The Bride Who Wouldn't Read Free Page A

care if that bitch is exposed?” Isaak demanded. “So what if her secret gets out. After all she did to you, it should be the least of your concerns.”
    “Whatever she did wrong,” Roman answered, “Ava was my wife. It is still my duty to protect her.”
    Duty.
    There was that word again.
    Isaak sat at his desk and took out the ring and tried to fathom why his uncle had entered into this scam with Kate.
    Perhaps he had loved her, Isaak conceded, and if money was the only way he could keep her…
    Why a year though?
    Isaak ran a tongue over suddenly dry lips.
    Perhaps Ivor had known that he was dying. He had always said that you could not take money with you.
    Maybe Kate had been his final indulgence.
    So why hadn’t Ivor told him about his bride to be?
    For a fleeting second, Isaak considered calling Ivor to ask him just what the hell had been going on, but then he rubbed his hand across his forehead, loathing the small window of madness that had descended a few times since his uncle’s death.
    He missed Ivor already.
    Apart from the grief, apart from the ache of sadness, he missed their regular conversations. It was starting to properly dawn that he would never be able to call him for sage advice, never again would they share a meal at the private club where Ivor was more than a member—he had been one of the chairmen and had donated millions to charities the club quietly supported.
    Had he properly thanked him, Isaak pondered? Had he ever actually sat his uncle down and told him just how grateful he and Roman were to Ivor for giving him their start?
    Yes, Isaak thought, he had.
    At least there was that solace.
    How much better it would be to be attending his wedding tomorrow rather than his funeral.
    And another Zaretsky wedding would have diverted the press’s attention from Roman.
    Isaak frowned and picked up the contract, reading through it again but with a different thought pattern now.
    The Zaretsky brothers, as well as their uncle, were known for their playboy ways and all three had grown tired of it.
    Isaak was perhaps starting to understand Ivor’s thinking, but for his own gain now.
    If he were to marry not only would a wedding move the spotlight from Roman, certainly some of Isaak’s investors would breathe a sigh of relief that his bad-boy ways had settled down. Isaak too was a little tired of being known more for his partying excesses and sexual prowess than his fiscal skills.
    And yes, Isaak thought, looking at Kate’s neat signature, certainly his uncle had recognised beauty.
    Isaak rang a detective he used and soon had a background check run. Kate had not lied. Her family ran an antiques dealership and were in dire straits financially. Kate held a history degree and had worked in the family business till two years ago and had since worked at the library. She had travelled to Russia recently and—Isaak quickly checked—yes, it had been with his uncle.
    No, she had not lied but the lovely Kate had chosen not to tell him that part.
    Perhaps he had found a solution?
    One that would benefit them all.
    *
    Kate was, as usual, one of the last to leave the library but she worked particularly late tonight knowing she might be taking tomorrow off to attend Ivor’s funeral. She still hadn’t decided whether or not to go. Her mind was still swirling from the meeting with Isaak and, having missed lunch by talking to him, she was starving and was considering picking up some noodles on her way home as she said goodnight to the guard.
    The heavy library door closed behind her and Kate stepped out into the dark London night.
    It was spring and soon the clocks would change but for now it felt as if they were locked in winter.
    “Kate.”
    She jumped at the sound of her name for even with one syllable she recognised his voice.
    “You need to make an appointment to see me,” Kate said and started to walk quickly. “I don’t discuss my business on the street.”
    “Then I buy you dinner.”
    “No thank