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Prologue
Dalton
Iburst through the double doors of my grandfather's home office, a sheaf of papers clenched in my fist. My heart pounds, fury coursing through my veins.
The old man lifts his gray head from the computer screen situated front and center on his massive desk, weariness flickering in his hazel eyes. He may look exhausted, but I knowbetter than to buy the act. Nearly seventy or not, Denver Grady is a shark through and through.
The fucking papers in my hands prove it.
"What the fuck is this, old man?" I growl, slamming them down on his desk. The slap of my palm against the polished wood echoes in the massive room.
His flinty gaze flickers over the crumpled contract before meeting mine. "Little hard to read with it all crumpled up, but I believe that's the contract for the company handoff, kid."
Kid.I haven't been a fucking kid in years. Not since my parents' plane went down, killing them, my aunt and uncle, and everyone else on board when I was thirteen. I'm thirty-four goddamn years old, one of the most successful men in Nashville.
The old man doesn't give a shit. He's still trying to pull my strings, just like always. He's hell-bent on making me and Lena, my baby cousin, dance to his tune.
Well, fuck that noise. Not this time.
"You know what I'm talking about, old man," I growl, jabbing a finger at the papers. "Clause Seven."
My grandfather arches a dark brow, his expression level. "What about it?"
Is he fucking serious right now? I'm so pissed I can barely see straight, and he acts like the clause is just standard operating procedure. Bullshit.
"Majority interest in Grady Records shall not pass to Dalton James Grady prior to his marriage to Tempest Evernight," I recite through clenched teeth, the words seared into my brain. "Further, should this marriage not come to fruition, the majority interest in Evernight Music Group shall not pass to Tempest Evernight. A dissolution of the marriage before one year will result in the immediate nullification of this contract."
My blood boils in my veins as I finish. But the old man just looks at me, amusement glinting in his eyes. Like this is all some big fucking joke.
"I know what's in the clause, boy," he says, leaning back in his chair, cool and composed. The leather creaks beneath him. "I drafted the damn thing myself."
Of course he did. He probably laughed his ass off while he was at it, too.
I slam my hand down on his desk, rattling his pretentious gold pen holder and knocking over the framed photo of my parents he's kept there for as long as I can remember.
"You think you're funny?" I roar, my voice shaking with fury. "I've been in charge of this goddamn company for the last five years while you've holed up here at home or out on the fucking golf course. Now, months before the official handoff, you want to pull this shit?"
He doesn't even flinch. He just hits me with that steely gaze of his. "I'm not pulling anything, Dalton. If you're going to be fully responsible for the company, this is how you begin."
"By marrying someone I don't fucking know?" I growl, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
My entire life, I've been grateful to this man. Even when he was a stubborn pain in my fucking ass, I felt gratitude. After my parents died, he took me in. Took in Lena, too. He raised us right here in this house, gave us everything we could ever want. He may have buried himself in work instead of dealing with the loss of my mother and Lena's father, but he tried like hell to ensure we had everything we needed. I didn't fucking deserve it, but he did it anyway.
Because of him, I didn't spend my teen years in foster care completely alone. More importantly, neither did Lena. My cousin is the only person I've ever been close with, the only one I've ever let into my heart. She's like a sister to me—the onlygoddamn thing that's kept me sane most days. And she wasn't built for foster care. She needed family and love. Without it, she would have suffered immensely.
But for the first time since the accident, I don't feel gratitude for the man sitting across from me for taking us in and making this place a home. I want to reach across his expensive antique desk and choke the life out of him.
"No. By merging the Grady and Evernight dynasties, boy," he snaps, fire in his eyes. "We'll be the biggest force in the music industry."
"They're a pop label. Our specialty is country music," I scoff, like he doesn't fucking know. He helped make Grady Records what it is. Long before I was born, he and his father turned it into the most well-known label in this city. I've spent years building on that foundation, turning the company into a powerhouse beyond reckoning.
"And Evernight has some of the biggest stars outside of the country music industry." He snaps his fingers at me. "Think bigger, Dalton!"
I shove a hand through my hair, pulling at the strands, trying to rein in my temper. As a businessman, of course I see the merits of a merger like this. It'd cement both companies at the top of every fucking list there is.
But marriage? Fuck that. That's never been in my future. I don't want it. I'm not looking for it. And I won't be forced into it.
"There doesn't have to be a marriage to merge the companies," I snap, pacing the expensive rug in front of his desk. "You know I can make it happen."
