Always Loved You Read online

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Also by Ella Goode

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  Orchard was traded for a shipyard. Her dad wanted money, and Heath wanted to expand his export business. Orchard was thrown in to sweeten the deal. At eighteen, she knew how to bargain for her life but not her freedom. Five years later, she wants out of the marriage. It’s no longer convenient for her heart, and if she stays one more day, she might not be able to find the courage to leave.

  While Heath is willing to give Orchard everything—space, money, his body—he’ll never release her from their vows. To keep her, though, he’ll have to figure out how to turn the marriage of convenience into a marriage of love.

  1

  Heath

  A marriage of convenience should be just that—convenient. It should not involve worry, anxiety, or frustration. I drum my fingers against the table and stare at the empty seat at the end of the stretch of mahogany. It seats twelve and most of the time when my dear wife is seated with me I’m staring at the top of her head because she refuses to look up. Still, I get to look at the top of her head and that’s enough. It has been for the last five years since I bought the girl from her deadbeat father in exchange for a shipping business he’d been running into the ground.

  The deal was that I would get someone on my arm to shield me from the gold-diggers, social climbers, and generally any female that wanted something from me that I didn’t want to give time, affection, or attention to. In return, Orchard would get every little luxury money would buy. It was a business transaction when she was eighteen and I was twenty-eight. She was barely an adult and so I left her alone. For five years.

  Five interminable years.

  I am a reasonable man. I ask very little from her. She has to keep me updated of all of her activities outside of the home. She is not, under any circumstances, to circumvent her bodyguard. And, at the end of every day, at the moment when the clock turns seven, she is to have her evening meal with me. It is the only time I require her presence. It is now five past the hour. I stare at the laptop screen that displays the city map. There should be a pink dot on that map denoting Orchard’s location. That dot is missing and has been missing for the last fifteen minutes.

  “Have you found her yet?“

  David, the head of my security, doesn’t answer immediately, which tells me they have not.

  “Fire him.” If one man can’t do his job, there’s no reason for him to be on my payroll.

  “Yes, sir,” David replies.

  “I want her in her chair within the next five minutes or you’re fired as well.”

  “Yessir.”

  A beep followed by a soft chime filters into the dining room. I slam the laptop shut and David leaps forward to swipe it off the table. Just in time, too, because my wife blows through the doorway a few seconds later, missing her long trench coat and wearing an unfamiliar sports hat instead.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she says, walking toward her seat at the end of the table. A staff person appears and sets out her salad.

  “Are you? I wasn’t watching.” I pick up my fork and pretend to eat the greens the staff laid out precisely at seven as I ordered.

  “The bottom of my shoe fell off,” she says. “I got my foot stuck on a grate and the heel just came loose.” She lifts up her foot and shows off her ruined sneaker. “I should probably stop buying shoes at the drug store.”

  A muscle in my jaw twitches as I try earnestly to control my temper. She has access to millions of dollars and refuses to touch it, preferring to work as a low-level manager for a grocery store chain. It’s a starter job, she explained when she accepted the offer after graduation last year. “That might be a good plan,” I manage to get out. I wave my hand for David to leave and go fire her bodyguard.

  “Hey, by the way, the guy you had tailing me did a good job, but he lost me because when I went to the bathroom at the station, a girl had bled through her white pants so I gave her my jacket. She forced her Yankees cap on me.”

  David coughs into his fist. This is the first time that Orchard has brought up her tail. I wasn’t sure she knew she had one.

  “If he couldn’t find you with the hat, he shouldn’t be charged with the important task of protecting you.” I set my fork down and wave for the plate to be taken away.

  “His girlfriend just had a baby so he needs the job. You can’t be that heartless.” We stare at each other over the long expanse until she sighs. “Right. You are that heartless. Whatever. Fire him then. I’ll just write a big severance check from my bank account that you’re always harping on me to use.”

  I’m surprised my molars are still intact given how often I’m grinding my back teeth together. “You’re free to use the money however you wish. It is your money, after all. That said, when you have children, the support for them will come out of that fund.”

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” She slaps her hand on the table, startling the staff that arrived to serve the steak. “You aren’t going to support your own children?”

  The maid sets the heated charger on the place setting and scurries away so she doesn’t get hit by the crossfire.

  “I gave you that money and thus, I am supporting them.”

  “That’s—“ She shakes her head in frustration at how wrong my statement is but I don’t back down because Orchard and I never talk. We only argue. I suppose that’s why I provoke her. It’s the only time she speaks to me.

  “Reasonable,” I finish for her. I stuff a morsel of steak in my mouth and watch her face turn red with anger.

  “Bullshit,” she says. “It’s bullshit and besides, what does it matter? I’m not having kids anyway. Having kids would require us to have sex and that’s never going to happen so I’ll just use my account in whatever way I want. David!” she yells.

  My man pops through the doorway. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I want that guy’s bank account number. I know you have it.”

  David’s eyes slide to me.

  “Don’t look at him. This is my money. I get to spend it on jewelry or shoes or clothes or dads to be that are unreasonably fired and no one gets to tell me otherwise.”

  David still looks to me. I shrug. “It is her money.”

  “Damn right it is.”

  “I’ll get you the information straight away, ma’am.” He nods, backing away.

  “Don’t call me ma’am!” Orchard yells after him. “I’m twenty-three, not eighty-three.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replies, completely reflexively.

  I raise the napkin to my mouth so Orchard can’t see my smile, but her next words totally wipe away all traces of humor.

  “If I could leave you, I would,” she spits.

  This is a marriage of convenience, but it’s not convenient. It’s a pain in my heart.

  2

  Orchard

  “I can’t win,” I groan as I drop my phone down onto the break table at work. Cindy pushes half of a donut towards me. I pick it up, taking a giant bite. I moan when the sugary sweetness hits my tongue. A tiny bit of my frustration with my husband melts away. I
use the word husband very loosely.

  “What did he do now?” She steals one of my fries from my plate.

  “He fired someone for no good reason so I gave them severance money. The guy had a baby on the way and he just up and fired him.”

  “Did he stop the payment or something?”

  “No, he replaced the money I spent.” I shove the rest of the donut in my mouth. The man is so frustrating. He often says one thing and does another. It drives me mad. I think he does it to get under my skin. He could have easily paid the money himself. Or not fired the poor guy to begin with. Instead he had played this game.

  I swear that he’s toying with me sometimes but what would be the point of that? Does he like when he gets a reaction out of me? Does he think that I’ll bow down to him like everyone else in his life does? That I’ll play the good wife and do exactly what he wants.

  “Wait, let me get this straight, you’re mad because he gave you money? Do I have that right? I’m not seeing the problem here.” Cindy leans back in her chair looking out into the hallway. I follow her line of sight to see Jeff standing out there looking our way. I snap my head back.

  “Stop looking at him or he’ll come this way,” I whisper to her. Jeff is a total jerk. I don’t have to deal with him often because we work different shifts. There’s something about him that creeps me out so I stay as far away from him as possible.

  He is the night manager at Good Foods while I am the assistant day manager. He likes to remind me of his title any chance he gets. I always laugh inside because if he’s trying to intimidate me, it's not working. I could care less about his position here. My own billionaire husband can’t even control me. So I’m sorry to break it to Jeff, but he has no chance.

  “He’s got a thing for you.”

  “He’s got a weird way of showing it,” I mutter, finishing the rest of the donut. “I’m married,” I remind her. It is one good thing about being in this marriage. I have an easy out whenever I am asked out. Not that I am asked often but it happens every now and then.

  “I know and he’s pissed you’re married so instead he’s a jerk to you. Kind of like your husband.”

  “He’s not a jerk.” I clamp my mouth shut. My husband is a jerk. Still, I have this weird need to defend him. Only I’m allowed to call my husband names.

  Cindy just snorts. “Let's focus here. So we have money to spend. That’s what this boils down to.”

  “I’m not spending the money.” What is there to buy anyway? I want for nothing. That’s a lie. I want for nothing that costs money. There are so many other things I want in life but they don’t have a price tag on them. That’s a rabbit hole I don’t want to go down right now while I’m at work. I have to focus on being pissed at my husband.

  Cindy looks at me for a few moments as though she’s considering something. “There’s always something to buy. Let me think about this for a second.”

  I roll my eyes at her, knowing she’s going to come up with something completely ridiculous. I pop one of my fries into my mouth while I wait for her suggestion. I could use a good laugh. I am still mad from last night. I didn't get to enjoy the meal Marth made.

  “Hello, ladies.” Jeff's voice sends chills down my spine. “Breaktime is almost over.” He taps his watch. He’s not even working right now so I’m not sure what he’s doing here.

  “We have fifteen minutes,” Cindy reminds him in a dismissive tone.

  He glares at her. “You should eat with management.” Jeff turns his attention back on me.

  “Is that a rule?” I don’t remember that being in the handbook. I read that thing from front to back when I got the job. I know it doesn’t state it but I like giving Jeff a hard time.

  “No, but you shouldn’t mingle with the regular employees.” He shakes his head at me like I’m a naughty child before turning and stomping off. Making it clear who the real child is.

  “You should buy this place and make his life hell.”

  I bark out a laugh. “That would be fun.” I let out a long sigh. I don't love my job but it fills the time. It’s better than sitting at home being ignored by the person that is supposed to love you the most in the world.

  “I’m not joking. Think about all the food we could eat because you’d own it all.”

  I have to admit that she makes a good point. The fact that it will probably piss off my husband only makes it sweeter. I don’t know why I enjoy sparring with him, but I do. It’s the only time I can get a reaction out of him. Even if whatever he says pisses me off.

  “How do we even buy a grocery store? I don’t know what they cost.”

  Cindy sits up a little straighter. “You're really thinking about this. Please tell me you’re thinking about this. Man, this would be some serious job security for me. Can I have Jeff’s job? Wait. No, I don’t want that responsibility. Give it to me for five minutes and I’ll fire him and then you demote me back to a cashier. I can’t deal with management power. Things will escalate quickly.”

  “I think they already have.”

  3

  Heath

  “I’ll hold,” I say to Kale Blank. Blank is the owner of the biggest Manhattan hedge fund. Forbes has him listed as one of the wealthiest men in America at $4 billion in net worth. You wouldn’t know it by the way he’s dressed in sweats, a hoodie and sneakers that he might have bought at the same drugstore where Orchard bought hers.

  “I’ll take two. These are shit cards. Who said Blank should be dealer?” complains Forest Wright, current reigning Super Bowl champion quarterback. He’s the one who should be wearing the sweats but for some reason chose to come wearing custom tailored wool pants, a collared shirt, sweater and bow tie.

  “It’s his turn to host and the host deals. What’s with the tie?” asks Garner Redmond. He’s the brains of our group—a scientist with more patents than Wright has football cleats. He says he doesn’t count the cards, but no one believes him. He only wins one out of every five hands. No one can be that precisely unlucky.

  “I had a date.” He picks up his cards and then tosses the whole hand in disgust. “I fold.”

  “It’s nine. Shouldn’t you be in the heart of the date by now?” I toss in two more dollars to raise the other three.

  “She asked to see my trophy case before the appetizer came,” he scowls. “And, no, it wasn’t a euphemism. She told me she wore black because she thought it would show well with all the gold on the trophies. I don’t know why I keep putting myself out there. All these women want is to have a photo op for their gram. Where’d you find Orchard?”

  “A shipyard.”

  “That’s right.” Wright snaps his fingers. “I forgot. You went to buy the shipyard and came home with a wife. Maybe I should start buying businesses.”

  “You have the car dealerships. I’m sure there are women that buy cars.”

  “Hmm.” He seems to take this into consideration.

  “I‘ll see your two dollars and call,” says Blank, laying out his flush.

  I fold my cards into a neat pile and place them in front of the discards. I had only a measly pair of fives, but felt like bluffing. A man knows when to give in. Blank gathers up the kitty and starts to stack his bills. “Speaking of buying businesses, I didn’t know you were in the market for a grocery chain. Are you moving into the food industry now?”

  “Food?” The only connection I have with food is Orchard’s job.

  “Yeah.” He sticks the cards into the shuffler and picks up a snifter of brandy. “One of my clients heard that you were making moves on Good Foods and wanted to know if he should buy in.”

  “You should tell him no as I’m not going to buy any grocery chain. The margins are too low.”

  “That’s what I thought but my client isn’t one to move on baseless rumors.”

  “Well, now you’re a hero because you can tell him that it’s not true and that he should spend his money on something else.”

  Redmond bangs his fist on the table. “We agre
ed that there would be no business talk during the game.”

  “He’s right. You two violated the rules. Pay up.” Wright wriggles his fingers. As I’m reaching for my wallet, my phone buzzes.

  “Uh uh. Phones are not allowed either,” Wright warns.

  “It’s Orchard.” I throw my wallet on the table. “Take whatever you want.”

  I open the phone and read the text.

  Her: How much do grocery stores cost?

  My jaw drops.

  “Bad news?”

  I gather up my things. “I guess I’m buying a grocery store chain,” I tell them.

  Blank’s shocked face follows me as I leave.

  You just buying one? I text as I climb the stairs out of Blank’s basement to the front door of his townhome. My bodyman, Jimmy, taps his earpiece to call for the car and hurries to open the door.

  Her: Just the one.

  Ordinarily, I need a whole proposal and due diligence form but I don’t care if I lose millions on this. I think this is the first time she’s asked me for anything.

  Me: Depends on location and size but mostly location.

  I’m assuming it’s the one she works at. The town car pulls up. I mouth the word “home” to Jimmy. He slams the door shut behind me and we take off.

  Her: It’s the one I work at.

  I shouldn’t be surprised she knows this. She did get a business degree. But seeing her rattle off numbers fills me with pride. She’s so fucking smart.