By His Vow: A Billionaire Arranged Marriage Romance

Tatum is stoic as we stand beside the grave, waiting for her father to be lowered into the ground.

Since the moment we arrived at her parents’ house, she’s barely said a word.

It’s the first time I’ve appreciated the change in her.

In her apartment, she was more than happy to give me shit—although the coffee delivery certainly softened the worst of that.

Any other day, I’d have stuck with the juice and a bottle of water, but she deserved the pick-me-up this morning.

And looking at her now, I’m so glad I did.

The second Lewis turned into her family’s estate, her mood completely changed.

She shut down.

Most would probably assume it’s because of what the day represents, but something tells me that it runs much deeper than that. I’d hazard a guess to say it has a lot to do with the reason she’s a marketing manager for Warner Group and nowhere near the CMO, which is where she should be—and not just because of her name.

Before storming into her office yesterday and disrupting her meeting, I spent most of the afternoon digging into everything Tatum has ever done for Warner Group.

Now, I may not be a marketing expert, but I know good campaigns when I see them. The increase in sales that quickly followed are more proof I don’t need that Tatum has been seriously undervalued in Warner Group.

Because of her father and his old-fashioned ways? Quite possibly.

That realization doesn’t sit right with me.

How does Miles get to graduate college and walk straight onto the senior management team but she doesn’t?

She is equally as talented and as good at her job as Miles. Hell, possibly more so.

He’s never had to prove himself. She does every single fucking day.

Helena continues to cry as we stand listening to the minister as he says his final words. Miles and my father stand on either side of her, helping to hold her up, while Tatum stands beside me with Lorelei on her other side.

She hasn’t shed one tear. Hasn’t even looked close.

Her expression is hard. Completely closed off.

To an outsider, she might look like she doesn’t care that they’re burying her father. But they’d be wrong. She cares. Possibly too much. And a hell of a lot more than she’s letting on. It’s just in a very different way from everyone else here.

Only Tatum can understand the relationship she had with Jonathan. Sure, she could attempt to explain it, but we’d never understand. We couldn’t. And she doesn’t need us to. She just needs us to be here.

She draws in a deep breath as the coffin is slowly lowered into the ground.

Helena wails, turning everyone’s attention to her. Just in case anyone missed her grieving widow status.

She’s hurting, I get it. But she has two children.

They may be adults, but they have lost their father. Doesn’t she want to think about that, and support them, instead of expecting them to hold her up?

Not that Tatum is making much of an effort.

I can’t help but wonder if her opinion of her mother right now is similar to mine.

I reach out, my fingers brushing against her warm, soft skin.

I expect her to pull away, to refuse the contact. But to my surprise, she doesn’t. Instead, she lets my fingers entwine with hers, even squeezing a little as if to silently thank me.

A weird warmth spreads through my chest at the thought of being important enough to support her right now.

It’s taken every ounce of my self-restraint not to spend the day obsessing about last night.

It was…everything.

Once she dropped her guard and stopped fighting me, our evening was…easy.

I’ve never felt so relaxed while spending time with a woman before.

She was interesting, funny, and smart. So fucking smart. Honestly, she blew me away.

Everything about our night, her, was perfect.

I shake my head, trying to banish the confusion the last few days with this woman has instilled in me.

I signed a business deal. A way to grow Callahan Enterprises.

I didn’t agree to anything else but loaning her my second name for twelve months and ensuring we both get what we want out of her father’s death.

So why is it that as Helena throws a single rose on her late husband’s grave, all I can think about is backing her daughter up against a tree and starting this marriage the right way?

My vision has long blurred as I focus on my imagination instead of reality, so when Tatum turns and presses her face into my chest, putting her back to the scene before us, I couldn’t be more surprised.

I move on autopilot, my arms lifting to wrap around her.

She doesn’t make a sound or do anything. She’s like an immoveable rock against me.

As much as I might like that she’s using me for support, I also hate how high she’s built her walls.

They feel impenetrable right now.

Movement to my left catches my eye, and when I look over, I find Lorelei studying us closely.

‘What?’ I mouth.

She’s made it more than clear that she doesn’t like me. I couldn’t care less about that. But it will certainly make my life easier over the next few months if I can get her on my side. Her and the fucking cat.

Every time they both look at me, I just know they’ve got their claws out, ready for a fight.

I’m still healing from my last rendezvous with the damn cat.

Lorelei shakes her head before shuffling closer, gripping Tatum’s shoulder, needing to be there for her as well.

We all stand there while the committal is brought to a close. People begin to shuffle away, but Tatum doesn’t move.

Neither does her mother, but I’m hardly surprised. I bet she’d sleep out here with him if she had a chance. At this point, I’m not sure if that’s romantic or just pathetic.

“Baby, we should go,” I say softly.

Lorelei’s eyes widen, but I don’t give her a second of my attention. She can think what she likes.

A second later, Miles turns around and his eyes immediately find mine before dropping to his sister in my arms, and then back up again.

Any hit of the grief he was just feeling is instantly banished, replaced by unfiltered anger.

The bruises might have started to fade since he showed me with his fists last week how thrilled he was with this plan, but it’s clear he’s far from over it.

“We should go,” I say softly, my eyes holding Miles’s but my voice soft for Tatum.

She shakes her head. It’s so slight that I don’t think I’d know if she weren’t pressed against me.

“You go. We’ll meet you back at the house,” I say, looking between Miles and Lorelei.

Miles wants to argue, but thankfully, he decides that now is not the time, and after giving me a long hard glare—a warning—he takes off with a concerned-looking Lorelei by his side.

Dad and Helena are the last to leave. Helena clings to him like she’ll die without him.

I guess it’s a good thing that Dad’s latest wife decided funerals were too depressing and turned down the invitation to join him. Her words, apparently, not his.

“Tatum?” I whisper when it’s just the two of us left. “What do you need, baby?”

She doesn’t react for long seconds, but eventually, she pulls away from me, and with her head bowed, she walks toward the freshly dug hole in the ground where her father has been laid to rest.

I let her go, giving her space to do whatever she needs.

My heart thunders in my chest as I watch her. Her pain is palpable, but once again, I can’t help wondering if it’s more than just loss.

She stands there unmoving, staring into the Earth.

The sun continues to shine down on us, and the birds overhead continue to sing.Property © 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.

As funerals go, it’s pretty perfect with the beautiful spring weather and the promise of new life popping up around us.

Cathartic, in a way.

As one door closes, more open up all around us.

I guess all that matters is which ones we choose to walk through.

I give her as long as I can, but eventually, my need to support her gets too much and I step up behind her.

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pin her back against me and tuck my face into her neck.

“I should be sadder than I am,” she confesses after long, agonizing seconds.

“There is no right or wrong way to feel, Tatum.”

“Everyone expects me to be devastated. I should be devastated.”

“No one expects anything. They didn’t know what it was like to live with your father. Only you know the relationship you’ve had.”

“He’s given me everything,” she whispers.

“Has he?” I don’t mean the simple question to come out as bitterly as it does.

Her breath catches as she hears it, but I doubt she understands what I really mean. As far as she’s concerned, I’m just as bad as they are.

“You’re shivering. We should get back.”

I’ve no idea how she can possibly be cold with the warm sun beating down on us, but she’s trembling.

“I’m not cold. I’m…I don’t know.” She sighs.

I hold her tighter. “Let me take care of you.”

It takes her a long while to reply and when she does, it knocks me sideways.

“I don’t know how to let you do that,” she confesses quietly—so quietly, I have to wonder if she was hoping the words might get swept away by the light breeze before they hit my ears.

“We can bail on the wake, if you like,” I offer. “We could go and do something else instead.”

“I can’t,” she says sadly, lowering her head. “Everyone expects⁠—”

“Fuck everyone, Tatum. This isn’t about them. It’s about you.”

“No,” she says, a bite of anger entering her tone. “It isn’t about me. It’s about him. It’s always about him.”

My lips part to respond, but for once, I don’t have any words.

She’s right.

So painfully right it cuts down to my soul.

“Okay, we’ll go. But the second you’re done, tell me and we’re out of there.”

She nods once before twisting out of my hold and marching toward the parking lot.

I watch her go for a beat, in total awe of her strength.

Tatum Warner is a force to be reckoned with, and something tells me I’ve already fallen under her spell.