Forever in Love Read online

  Table of Contents

  About This Book

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  What’s Next

  Titles by Nadia Lee

  About Nadia Lee

  Copyright

  Catherine Fairchild fakes being perfect by keeping everyone at arm’s length. But her billionaire CEO husband’s bigamy shatters the illusory life she’s built, and vengeful in-laws want to send her to jail for embezzling from the failing family business. Desperate, she accepts an offer from a powerful friend: help him reconcile with his illegitimate son in return for protection. How hard can it be to dazzle a small town guy?

  Small town bar owner Blaine Davis has zero interest in claiming his fifty million dollar trust fund or joining the family of a father he barely knows. He can never forgive his womanizing father for seducing his mother or forget the cruelty his father’s high-society wife inflicted on them. Catherine comes from the same rich and entitled background, but he starts to fall for her anyway. Can their fragile bond survive when the true reason for her presence in his idyllic little town is revealed and Blaine’s old wounds are re-opened?

  Forever in Love

  Hearts on the Line, Book 5

  Nadia Lee

  For you.

  Chapter One

  Catherine Fairchild sat in an upscale bistro near her hotel in Atlanta, sipping coffee. The brew was good, although the bone-colored china cup in her hand looked ridiculously fragile, like it would snap if she held it too tightly.

  It pained her slightly to be in the place. The décor was pure kitsch and didn’t really go with the dark wooden walls and leather seats. But the slim white gold and diamond watch on her left wrist said it was almost ten. It shouldn’t be long before Salazar Pryce showed. For such a lazy man, he was surprisingly punctual.

  Barely a minute later, Salazar walked in. Despite being in his late sixties he’d aged remarkably well, his body still fit underneath a bespoke navy pinstriped suit that she knew must have cost at least six thousand dollars. His hair was fashionably cut and perfectly dark except for a hint of silver at his temples that gave him a distinguished air. He paused, looking around for her, and she got a glimpse of the famous Pryce profile. When he saw her he raised a professionally manicured hand in greeting and waked over. She noticed that his Italian leather shoes were actually shinier than the highly polished hardwood floor.

  “Been waiting long?” he asked.

  “No.” She rose and gave him a hug.

  “You look good.” He took the seat across from her.

  “Thank you.” She’d taken some time and care that morning. Her glossy hair tumbled over her back like a queen’s cape, and careful makeup hid the dark circles under her eyes and lent a healthy glow to her pale skin. The cream dress she wore was precisely fitted to show off her most strategic assets. Her world had been falling apart for the better part of a year now, but it was still paramount that she look like a million bucks. “So do you.”

  “Well, what can I say? I have a great life.” His pale gray eyes searched hers. “Everything all right with you? I was surprised to find you in Atlanta when I called. Didn’t know you had any friends or family here.”

  “I drove to Charleston to see my mother.” After months of inaction, she had finally decided to tell Olivia about the break-up of her marriage.

  The skin around Salazar’s eyes crinkled. “How did that go?”

  If Catherine hadn’t been subjected to that very same mother’s upbringing, she might have snorted. “The visit ended within an hour.”

  Salazar sighed. “Olivia’s too tough on you. Always has been.” He called a waitress over and ordered some chocolate, a couple of cream pastries and coffee. When they were alone again, Salazar leaned across the table. “Don’t let her get to you.”

  “I try not to.” Catherine gave a bitter laugh. “I have no idea why I thought it’d be such a great idea to go to Charleston. Would’ve been better just to stay in Houston.” She’d thought that her mother might have been able to soothe her hurt…except Olivia had never been the “kiss it and make it better” type.

  “Yeah, but then you might have run into Jacob. If he, ah, you know. Came back.”

  Salazar, along with everyone else on the planet, knew that her “husband” Jacob Lloyd had run off with a Las Vegas stripper—who turned out to have been his first, real wife—the year before. The betrayal of bigamy would’ve been enough to drive any woman insane with humiliation, but it hadn’t ended there. The family business was doing badly, and his relatives blamed her. Even now, her brother-in-law Ethan—or whatever he was to her now—was auditing the company, undoubtedly looking for some way to pin its financial problems on her, and her humiliation and pain were rapidly turning into despair. Jacob’s family was powerful, and would do anything to protect its own.

  “Well, anyway. There’s actually a reason I called.” Salazar leaned back in his seat. “Here’s what I’m thinking. You’re already in Atlanta, right? Why not drive on up to Tennessee?”

  “Tennessee?”

  “Yeah. There’s this real pretty place called Cooter’s Bluff. A quaint little slice of Small Town Americana. I own a house there. Modest, but comfortable. And fully furnished—housekeeping and everything. You should stay there. Relax. Play a little tennis. Get away from all the shit you’re faced with.”

  “Cooter’s Bluff?” She looked at him skeptically. “Really? And relaxing is all you want me to do there?” Salazar never gave things away for free. Usually when he was generous with women, it was because he wanted to sleep with them. And when men offered things to Catherine, experience had tended to prove that the desire to sleep with her was behind it.

  But that wasn’t their relationship.

  “You could eat at a place called The Line a few times, if you felt the urge.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Are you thinking about buying it?”

  “God, no. I don’t do restaurants. That’s Mark’s thing,” he said, referring to one of his sons. “No, I want you to check out the owner, Blaine Davis.”

  The waitress arrived with Salazar’s order. She refilled Catherine’s coffee and left.

  Salazar watched appreciatively as the young woman walked away, then took a bite of his pastry and pushed his phone across the table. Catherine picked it up and looked at a photo of a guy who seemed to be in his early thirties. A pair of aviator sunglasses hid his eyes. Longish dark brown hair brushed the base of his neck, and there was an intriguing crookedness in his nose that said it’d been broken at least once. His mouth was set in a flat line, but there was a firmness to his lips. She found herself thinking that they probably felt amazing against naked skin, and wondered if he kissed well. Handsome, all in all, though rough around the edges. Probably not anyone Salazar’s daughter was involved with. She was too busy to date, as well as having four
overprotective brothers.

  Catherine handed the phone back to Salazar. “Okay. Why so interested in this guy?”

  “He’s my son.”

  She choked. “What?”

  “He—well, it was an accident. With a woman named Georgia Love.”

  “Georgia Love? Sounds like some kind of liquor.”

  Salazar got a wistful look in his eye. “She was intoxicating. But she died a few years back.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Does your wife know about this?”

  He waved his hand and took another big bite of his pastry. “Ceinlys has no idea. I found out not too long ago myself.”

  “So…why do you want me to check him out? Has he produced a grandchild for you?” It was no secret Salazar wanted one badly.

  “No.” Salazar sighed. “He’s still single. I want to bring him into the family fold.”

  “Is Ceinlys going to be okay with that?”

  “Why would her opinion matter?”

  “She might divorce you over it.” Catherine would most likely have divorced a husband for that insult. And Ceinlys Pryce was a proud woman.

  “I don’t think so. She gets nothing if she divorces me, no matter whose fault it is.”

  She gave him a look. “Salazar. You might be getting a little over-optimistic.”

  “I promise you I’m not. There’s a prenup. Mom made her sign it before we married.” Catherine’s shock must’ve shown on her face because he added, “My mother never trusted any woman who wanted to marry me…well, not unless they already had at least a hundred million bucks to their name. So before the ceremony went through, she gave me some legal protection. Anyway, thanks to her foresight, Ceinlys won’t make a fuss.”

  Catherine took a sip of her coffee, processing this new information. “Okay. And now you want this Blaine to come into a family he never knew he had?”

  “It’s not right that a Pryce is without his legacy.”

  She knew what that meant. “You set up a trust fund.”

  “A standard one. About fifty mil.”

  “Quite a bit of money to a guy who owns a bar. So what’s the problem?”

  “He refuses to have anything to do with me. My lawyer can’t seem to talk to him in a way that he can understand.”

  “What’s there to understand about fifty million dollars?” If she’d had a long-lost father who wanted to give her fifty million, she’d have taken the money, no questions asked.

  “I don’t know. But I figured you might be able to help me out.”

  “How?”

  “Come on, you’re gorgeous. What man can say no to you?”

  Yeah, so gorgeous that my husband is a bigamist and I have nothing to show for four years of “marriage” to him. Catherine kept the thought to herself. Bad enough that Salazar knew the broad strokes of her train-wrecked life. She certainly didn’t want to discuss the details.

  “Go on out to Cooter’s Bluff, get to know Blaine a little,” Salazar continued. “Convince him to be part of the Pryce family.”

  “I don’t know if I can do what your money can’t.”

  “Then find out how I can approach him. That’s all I want.” Catherine was about to decline, but he continued, “If you do this for me, I’ll owe you a big one. And you know I always pay my debts. Think about that.”

  Catherine folded her arms. Ethan seemed determined to portray her as an embezzler and toss her in jail. If he came out with guns blazing like she expected, having an ally would be prudent. Salazar’s support could make all the difference. The Lloyds were enormously wealthy and influential, but so were the Pryces.

  “How much time would I have?”

  Salazar smiled. “As much as you need. I’m a patient man.” He slid keys and a piece of paper across the table, and leaned back again. “That’s the address. The house is yours for as long as you want it.”

  She sighed and reached for the keys. “I’ll do what I can. But I can’t guarantee a miracle.”

  He polished off the rest of his pastry. “I have faith in you.”

  * * *

  The drive north through Georgia and into eastern Tennessee was beautiful in a stark and austere way. The lonely four-lane road Catherine was on bisected a wide field—it was still too early in the season to show any green—and trees with bare branches lined each side of the asphalt. The late afternoon sun was a white disk in a perfect azure sky.

  When the weather got warmer, the trees would be verdant and the field full of wildflowers. A man like Salazar wouldn’t have bought a house in a place that was less than what he deemed the proper image of Small Town Americana. In addition to the picturesque scenery, there would be the scent of freshly baked apple pies, warm Southern hospitality and friendly people.

  The opening strains of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony came from her phone. Catherine ignored it, staring straight out the pristine windshield of her Aston Martin. Only one person had that ring tone: Olivia.

  The ominous music died. Catherine sighed, her shoulders relaxing. Her mother had called six times. Hopefully she’d get the hint and stop trying to get in touch. What more could she have to say? She’d already said everything she wanted, hadn’t she?

  Some of your teachers thought you had learning problems, bless their hearts, but I refused to let them label you. Oh no. Not surprising they had such an impression, of course, but how could I do that to my own child? You weren’t the smartest, but there was never any need to be impolite.

  Thank you, Mother!

  The situation with Jacob is disappointing, I must confess. Starting over at your age will be difficult. But Catherine, when God didn’t give you intellect, it was for a reason. He wished to be fair and gave you something even more potent—beauty. You still have it. So use it. Despite her smooth moneyed diction, Olivia’s words always had edges that never failed to cut. You’re not like some common beer that any man can swill. You, my dear, are a 1787 Château Lafite. Get a man who appreciates you and can give you the kind of life you deserve.

  Beethoven’s Fifth started again. What could her mother want?

  Taking a deep breath, Catherine answered it. “Hello, Mother.”

  “My goodness, it is difficult to get ahold of you. Where are you?”

  “Driving.”

  “What happened? You left so suddenly.”

  “I wasn’t planning on staying long.” A lie. Catherine had hoped to stay in Charleston for at least a few weeks to regroup and figure out what to do.

  “Well.” There was a short pause. “It would’ve been nice of you to say goodbye.”

  “Terribly sorry, Mother. It was thoughtless of me.” After half an hour of Olivia’s sweetly cutting remarks, Catherine hadn’t been able to sit in the house any longer. It was full of things that carried the burden of maintaining the veneer of old money when in reality there was no money at all. The family hadn’t had any money even before her father Sebastian’s death over a decade earlier.

  “Well, there’s nothing for it. I should’ve taught you better.”

  Catherine’s grip around the phone tightened. Olivia’s tone made it clear who was truly to blame for the lapse in manners. Just once, Catherine would have liked to hear something warm and comforting from her mother. “Is that all?”

  “No. Did I tell you about the new restaurant Mark Pryce is planning to open in Houston? It’ll be a fabulous opportunity for you.”

  “How so?”

  Olivia sighed impatiently. “It’s in Houston. You’re in a perfect position to help him.” By “help” she meant lure him into marriage.

  “Mother, he’s Gavin’s best friend.” Gavin was not only brother to her faux-husband Jacob, he was also Catherine’s ex-boyfriend. Given the way they’d parted the last time, Catherine doubted Gavin had told Mark anything good about her. Mark probably thought her to be the Antichrist, the Whore of Babylon and the Beast of Revelation all rolled into one.

  “Past history. You know that Salazar and Ceinlys like you,” Olivia said.

>   “So?”

  “Every advantage helps. Especially for a woman who’s already twenty-eight.”

  “That’s hardly ancient.”

  “Compared to eighteen year-olds? You’re a fossil.”

  Catherine suddenly couldn’t draw in any air. She lowered her window, but even then the car seemed too stuffy. “I have to go. There’s a tunnel ahead,” she lied.

  “All right then. We can talk about this some more. I’ll call you—”

  No. No more. Catherine pressed the red button on her phone and hurled it out of the car. She watched in the mirror as it smashed against the dark pavement, bouncing and splintering into pieces.

  I’m simply trying to help you face reality, her mother would say. Why don’t you want to acknowledge what’s real?

  Maybe it had something to do with how cruel reality was being to her. Catherine didn’t want to think about her “learning issues”, how old she was or how poor she had suddenly become last year. She had no one she could call and ask for help, knowing that just the friendship between them would be enough to rely on. If she hadn’t been such an insecure idiot all her life, she might have been able to reach out to her cousin Amandine, but that too was impossible now. Amandine was married to Gavin and would side with her in-laws. Catherine hadn’t been the nicest to her cousin when they’d been growing up, although now she couldn’t fathom her own behavior. Why had she been so jealous of Amandine?

  All of a sudden, everything just seemed too much. Catherine pulled over with shaking hands. Covering her ears, she hopped out of the car and screamed. Maybe the sound would drown out her mother’s words and her own regrets.

  When her throat hurt too much to scream anymore, she leaned back against her car, breathing hard. The wind had a bite to it, and she pulled the lapels of her black lambskin coat closer. She was surprised to find they were wet.

  Sniffing, she pulled out a handkerchief and patted her face dry. Why was she crying? It wasn’t like tears would do her any good. She’d shed plenty when she’d discovered Jacob’s bigamy, but things had only gotten worse.

  Her mother might be right. Mark Pryce was perfect husband material. He was from a good family, his parents liked her and most importantly he was rich and successful. A man’s status was everything; his accomplishments trumped anything else about him. Accordingly, her station in life rose and fell depending on the man she was with. The fact that Mark was good-looking was a bonus. There was a lack of spark, at least on her part, but she could manage. It wasn’t like she’d dated the captain of the football team in high school because of the amazing chemistry. She could always lie back and think of something to get herself excited for a guy. He didn’t have to know it wasn’t him doing it for her.