Chapter 1

   

            Lawrence Stevens owed millions in markers to Caesars and MGM Grand in Las Vegas. He had nowhere else to turn. He had alienated his ex-wife, family, and friends ages ago. His last hope was the son of his dead fraternity brother.

            “Sure, I’ll help you out – for a price,” Blake said as he stood from the arm chair.

            They were in Blake’s living room at his penthouse. He stood tall, five foot eight. His dark hair was slicked back with a part on the side.

            “What do you want as collateral? My Benz? My house in the Bahamas?”

            “The last I remembered you had a daughter, correct?” Blake asked as he walked to the bar.

             “Yes. Lacey, my only child. Why?”

              “I’ll take her.” Blake said simply.

              “I beg your pardon?”

              “I need a wife - and an heir. Your daughter will do.”

              “What! You want to marry my child just so you can have children?” Lawrence was incredulous.

              “What else is marriage and women for?” Blake said with a shrug.

              Lawrence’s back stiffened. “No. anything but her.” he said stoically.

             “Her or nothing,” Blake said simply.

              Lawrence looked away. His gaze landed on the carpet. Could he really do it? Could he make his innocent little girl marry this ruthless and womanizing man? He ran his hands through his burnt umber and white hair.

              Ice hitting glass temporarily broke Lawrence’s concentration. Blake was fixing himself a drink.

              “You’re so much older than my Lacey. She’s twenty-one. Just graduated college. There’s a ten year age gap,” Lawrence said with concern.

               “So? Lots of men with my wealth and social position marry women who are younger than them. Sometimes twenty years younger than them.”

               “Blake, my daughter isn’t your kind of woman. She’s good and decent . . . innocent. She doesn’t know much about the world. Not really – other than what she sees on the news.”

               “Hmm. Sounds like she’s in my ball park. I don’t want a worldly woman. Those type of women are more trouble than what they are worth. As long as she isn’t ugly, it’s fine. And as I remember she was a cute ten-year-old.

            His Lacey was gorgeous. And more than Blake Dandridge deserved.

                                                                              ****

            After the loser, Lawrence, left, Blake sat down with brandy in hand. The old man had sputtered and rung his hands like an old main who had gotten a taste of her own medicine. The old fool had no one but himself to blame. Lawrence’s gambling problem had become legendary gossip around New York. It was rumored that at one time he had to hide from a bookie and his goons when he couldn’t pay up on a sports’ bet he had lost. Oh well, bad luck for him – and his daughter.

            Blake got on the phone with his secretary to tell her he was getting married in two weeks at to make whatever arrangements that needed to be made for the nuptials. He would tell his butler to get his tuxedo cleaned and pressed.

            He took a sip of his drink and exhaled. For some time, he had been thinking about getting married. But he had no time or patience to cajole a debutante to marry him. Blake needed a child to carry on the Dandridge for the business his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had bleed and sweat over. He couldn’t trust leaving the business to his brothers or a second or third cousin to run. Blake wanted and needed an heir who he could tutor himself. That’s the only way he could trust handing the business down to a Dandridge after he passed – and he wasn’t getting any younger.

            When Lawrence had come to him needing help a light bulb had gone off in his head. Lacey Stevens would have no choice but to marry him otherwise her father would be ruined.

                                                                                ****

            “What did you say?” Lacey asked over the phone. Surely, she heard him wrong.

            “I said I need you to return to New York to marry Blake Dandridge.”

            “I can’t marry a man I never met,” she nearly shrieked.

            “You never met him officially, but he did see you years ago. You were ten – home for the summer from school. You were playing outside while Blake’s father, Blake, and me were talking in the driveway of what is now only your mother’s home.”

            “I don’t remember that. Either way, I’m not marrying him.”

            Her father exhaled heavily. “Marry him or your trust fund will be forfeit.”

            Lacey was taken aback. Her father had never threatened her before. “Why are you doing this, Daddy? Why are you making me marry someone I don’t know much less love?” she asked in a shaky voice.

            “Because it’s the only way . . . I can stay . . . financially afloat.”

            Lacey scrunched up her nose. “I don’t understand.”

            “Lacey, I am in serious financial trouble. What I meant by your trust fund being taken away if you don’t marry Blake means that I’ll have to break your trust to . . . pay off my debts,” he explained  with slight shame.

            “What kind of debts? Have you been gambling again, daddy?”

            Dead silence.

            “Oh, Daddy,” she crowed with disappointment.

            “Honey, I’m sorry but if I don’t pay the casinos in full in . . . well, now, twenty-five days I’ll lose everything; My cars, the condo, my house in the Bahamas, and even the business. And yes, that includes your trust fund, too.”

            “How much is in my trust fund?”

            “I don’t know, honey. I haven’t looked at the paperwork in almost two years.”

            Lacey knew that was a lie. Every time she asked a serious question concerning the family or finances, he would either say he didn’t know or that she shouldn’t worry about such things.

            “Lacey, I know what I’m asking is a lot – more than a lot. But you’re not dating anyone so it’s not like you’ll be leaving the love of your life to marry Blake Dandridge. And a young lady like yourself should be married to a wealthy man.”

            “I have a question. And I expect an actual answer and if I don’t get it then I’m definitely not doing it,” she said with strength. “Did this man promise to pay your debts to the casinos if I married him?”

            “Yes,” her father answered simply.

            A shiver went down her spine. She was totally creeped out. “Did you propose this proposition to him, Daddy?”

            “Heavens, no,” he nearly shouted, offended. “He propositioned me with it.”

            “He only seen me as a ten-year-old.  Why does he want to marry me?” None of this made sense.

            “He needs . . . heirs,” he answered hesitantly.

            “What! I don’t know this man! He doesn’t know me! And he expects me to . . . to . . .”

            “Yes. If there was any other way, Lacey, I would not do this, but . . .” he trailed off.

            “I can’t, Daddy,” she whined.

            “If you don’t, I’ll lose everything and you’ll lose your inheritance. The wedding is scheduled in two weeks at the New York County Country Club.”

            This was not how this was supposed to happen. She was supposed to meet a terrific guy who had a successful career. They were supposed to fall in love and then get married and have children. What her father – and Blake Dandridge was proposing was totally wrong and a bit sick.

            “Please, honey,” he pleaded. “Don’t let me down.”

            Lacey loved her father. She knew enough about gambling addiction to know it is a real disease and a lot of addicts can’t help themselves.

            Lacey blew out and said what her father wanted and needed to hear. Once she had hung up, she felt so dirty. This was something that was done during the stone age – arranged marriages. But, here she was.

            She looked around her Paris apartment. It was two-bedrooms. The living space was large enough to entertain her friends comfortably.

            A slight depression slipped over her. Most of her friends were in Paris. She had a few in London and Spain, but most of them in Paris. Other than her family, she wasn’t close to anyone in New York.

            Then her subconscious said to look on the bright side. How bad could it be? Her soon-to-be husband was rich and from a good family. It’s not like her father had wheeled and dealed for her to marry a sleaze. Her father wouldn’t do that to her despite his predicament. Would he?