The Professional Bride: Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book Three Read Free

though the coughing stopped, the shaking remained. Karen hurried over and the doctor flew into the room. Rym watched in horror as he filled a syringe and inserted the needle into the IV tubing.
    “What are you giving him?” Rym asked. His blood turned cold.
    “Something to make him comfortable,” replied the doctor.
    “Wait, comfortable as in …?” Rym grabbed Grandpa’s hand and held on tighter than a brand-new ski boot.
    The light and stubbornness that was Grandpa slowly ebbed away, unhindered by pain thanks to the shot. There was a flux of that peaceful feeling, and then the veil closed, leaving behind a vast sense of loss. Shocked, Rym pulled his feet under him like a first-timer on skis, unsure if he’d be able to stay up.
    Karen put her arm around Rym’s shoulders. “You made it here for him. He was hanging on just for you.”
    Rym leaned on her, grateful for her words. His grandpa had loved him, even if it was from afar. And the feelings of respect and caring that Rym had sometimes felt guilty for having for Grandpa, because of his dad, filled the empty places in the room.
    He stood up straight. No more. He’d wasted years with his grandpa out of loyalty to his mom and dad, and now he refused to let their bitterness hinder his ability to love. Rym bent over the bed and kissed his grandpa’s forehead.
    “If you’d like to step out, we can take care of him,” said the doctor.
    “Thank you,” muttered Rym. Not sure where to go, he wandered out of the room and into the bridge-like hallway. 
    “Sir, wait.”
    Rym stopped automatically; his body was on cruise control. Sir. I’m not “sir.” Grandpa was “sir .” Yet this was the third time that day Rym had been called sir . The word fit like a loose binding.
    “Hi, I’m Robert McGraw. We talked on the phone earlier today.”
    Right, the guilt-maker. Mr. McGraw stood eye-to-eye with Rym, who was six-foot-one. He had graying hair at the temples; the rest of his hair was black and shiny with a wave in the front. He had a few wrinkles around his eyes and down his cheeks. With his spry movements, and the raccoon tan line that could only come from wearing a ski mask on a sunny day on the slopes, Rym found he liked the guy despite his first impression.
    “I know you’re probably reeling, but there are some things we need to go over.”
    “Like what?” Rym couldn’t think of a single thing—at all. He still couldn’t believe Grandpa was gone. Rym’s interactions with his grandpa flashed before him and, unhindered now by the weight of his parents’ anger, Rym saw how Grandpa Mike had molded him through example. He’d influenced Rym’s life in ways Rym hadn’t thought of until he had to face a world without Grandpa in it. For one, he’d given Rym a reason to be proud of his last name, a reason to hold his head high even when hauling his dad out of the bars. That meant something to Rym as he grew from a boy into a man.
    “As Mr. Hoagland’s only grandchild, there are several small points we should cover when it comes to inheriting Iron Mountain, your grandfather’s estate, and his investments. But you need to know, there is one stipulation that will affect you in a—shall we say, personal way.”
    Wow—when Grandpa said “It’s all yours,” he meant it. What would his mother say about that? Grandpa’s comment about some sort of training rose up through the fog in Rym’s head. “Shoot.”
    Mr. McGraw buttoned his suit, then unbuttoned it, then pulled at his tie. He cleared his throat and gave Rym a sympathetic smile. “You’ll have to get married.”
    Rym’s eyebrows shot up. “Married?” That was a sentence worse than ...
    Rym looked over his shoulder to where Grandpa’s body now lay, covered by a white sheet. How could he get married? He didn’t date—he couldn’t afford it. Sure, plenty of his clients had asked him out, but he knew they were looking for a vacation fling and he wasn’t interested in one-night stands. He had