Logan Bentley, the second oldest in the Bentley family and until recently a Fortune 500 favorite for investments, who’d been nicknamed the Prince of Wall Street, never expected to be wearing Federal Prison orange.
Once king of his universe, he now shared a jail cell with his brother, Oliver. Whoever had ruined his life might think they’d won, but soon, he'd be free to discover who’d set them up. Revenge was a great motivator.
The small, windowless room with a table and two chairs between them offered he and his lawyer the semblance of privacy, but beyond the door was bars and a guard watching in case anyone got violent.
Franklin White said, “I had an offer to help get you out of here with bail.” He handed Logan a contract.
“Fresh air and a good shower are things I dream about now.” I He tried to read the details but it was hard to focus on the words.
He and his brothers, all prominent business men in their own professions, were in this mess together. But nothing about being in prison made sense.
Whoever had set them up clearly didn't know that the Bentley family stuck together. He’d find who was behind this if it was the last thing he ever did.
A month ago, when the FBI had arrested him and his brothers and brought them to a prison near Washington DC, they were told about a host of financial frauds their family supposedly had committed.
None of which was true. The joke was that they had the money to cover the cost of the supposed crimes and more. His family privately owned oil fields that flowed with cash.
Their father was being held in a different jail, but worst of all was that their mother, sick with cancer, had been arrested and was serving time in a female prison. His hands gripped the table and squeezed the edge.
The only one not jailed that day was their sister Elle, who had never worked a day in her life, which turned out to be a blessing.
The words of the contract slowly came into focus and he read.
Finally, he finished, swallowed hard, and his gaze shot up. "Wait. So I get out of prison if I marry this woman?"
White fixed his glasses and nodded. "Yes. You must agree to marry her and live with her for at least thirty days when you get out."
Thirty days with one woman, even if she was a horrible shrew or a total nightmare, was fine as long as he could help his family. Outside these walls he'd have a better chance at supporting his family and finding his enemy.
As a boy he'd grown up hearing stories of people who wanted to hurt his family because of their name, and how his ancestors had defended their honor. He'd do the same. "But I'm otherwise free until the trial and can do whatever I want?"
White said, "You won't have access to any of your money as that's tied up in the court system.”
Partly true. As a foreign royal, he had access to funds that weren't in the US jurisdiction, but he didn’t share that with the lawyer. As an investor he put his money in banks all over the world, but since no one had offered a deal on anything, he never offered any information. Logan tapped his fingers on the metal table. "What about my house in Miami?"
"That's under the government control at the moment," the lawyer reminded him.
And so was his apartment in Manhattan. If Logan had his way, he'd go home to Miami and find friends there to help him if only to borrow a laptop. Even if he married a horribly disfigured woman reminiscent of the Phantom of the Opera, it would be worth it because he'd be free. He crossed his arms. "I can move back to Miami if I find a place to live with my wife?"
White wrote the amendment down in his notebook. "That can added to the contract, if you're worried she won’t go."
Perfect. He wouldn’t have to spend much more time in winter. Cold wasn't in his blood. He'd been born as a royal son in the Middle East and grew up in Miami. Winter affected him, and he needed the sunshine. Plus, going home meant he could see who his real friends were now. He nodded. "Do it. I'm more useful out there than in here." He then leaned closer, dropped his arms and asked, "Who am I marrying?"
The lawyer read from the paperwork. "Hannah Hughes."
The name flashed in his mind, but he couldn't place quite where. His mind drifted to high school and a brown-haired girl with glasses in a math class, but he wasn’t sure it was the same person and he didn’t ask. He rubbed his forehead. "That sounds vaguely familiar."
The lawyer closed his notebook and handed Logan a pen. "Her parents died last year in a horrible plane wreck."
Perhaps his mother had talked about the tragedy? He wasn't sure, but it didn’t really matter. He'd work tirelessly until his mother, father and brothers were all free. He signed the draft contract, marking his changes with initials. "Maybe that was it. Okay, all done."
White took the contract, stood, and said, "She'll be in this afternoon."
That was quick. The guards opened the door to let his lawyer out. Another guard came in and locked his hands in cuffs again, none too gently. Logan called out, "Let’s get this done."
The lawyer waved and left. Soon, perhaps today, he'd be out of this prison. It seemed too good to be true.
The guard walked Logan outside to join the inmates in their exercise regime. The guard released the cuffs and without a word, Logan trotted over to the basketball court where his five brothers all shot hoops.
Oliver, oldest of the siblings who thought he was in charge of their family, greeted him. "What happened with the lawyer?"
Logan gestured for them to let him join the game. Dylan motioned he was on the team with Ollie and Roy. Ollie stayed near him but on guard for the ball. Logan said, "It seems if I get married, I can get out of here, today." He sighed. "With Mom sick and in jail, I want to do more for her."
"Me, too," Oliver said.
His brother was a doctor, so he had more knowledge about their mother's illness than he did. Logan quietly asked, "What do you mean?"
Oliver shrugged. "Looks like we all signed the same deal.”
“Marriage?”
“Yeah. I'm calling Elle first thing so that she can help us figure out where to live as a group."
Logan kept his eye on Dylan, who had the ball. If Oliver was taking care of living arrangements, then all of Logan’s efforts could be focused on his parents and getting them out of jail too. At least his brothers would be close, but his spine tingled at accepting Elle’s assistance.
Sure, their sister was engaged to a man with money, but first off, Logan had never met Navid and second, he didn't need anyone's pity. But he wouldn’t be stupid and access funds that the federal agents might confiscate, and possibly use against them with more phony charges, so he grumbled, "I hate handouts." Roy stole the ball from Dylan and looked for an opening to take a shot.
Oliver put his hands together in front of his face like he always did when he made a point, though usually he was leaning on his desk to give women news about childbirth. "She's our sister and she offered to have her new husband pay for bail. The deal we all took makes that offer void. This way we're just borrowing real estate while we fix the mess."
Logan’s pride wasn't going to help anyone and his family was more important. "Look, I'm a stock broker, Ollie. You're the oldest and a doctor. I can ensure you have funding to treat Mom and get money for Roy to work on our case."
Oliver nodded like he had this planned out already. "We'll need cash for that and Dylan, Jake and Beau are going to work together to find out who framed us."
Perfect—this was a plan of action where he put his expertise to use. Creating new money was easy for him. For years the newspapers said Logan Bentley could turn a nickel into millions so now it was time to test that theory out. The stock market was almost like hearing musical notes and he knew how to play the instruments. He stared at his other brothers. "I'll divide my efforts into three monetary sections though I'd love to murder whoever framed us with my bare hands."
"Pfft." Oliver turned to catch the ball from Roy. "We all want to be there when we figure it out."
For the first time in weeks, Logan took a deep breath. The testosterone of men in prison exercising in a courtyard would be a memory he'd love to forget. It would be nice to sleep without keeping one eye open. Marrying a woman, even a horrible one, couldn't be as bad as this nightmare. He'd never met a woman who he couldn't charm. He envisioned some middle-aged woman with an eye patch and a beer in her hand, like she'd be some pirate of old, but ignored his imagination. Then the girl with glasses and a ponytail who had passed him in the hallway flashed in his mind. He wasn’t sure if he’d just made that up, so he let it go and watched the orange and black basketball. "So we have a plan."
A guard called out, "Logan Morgan, you have a visitor."
He turned away from his brothers in surprise. He’d signed last but he might be first out.
Oliver slapped his shoulder. "Your new wife seems to be the first to arrive. Tomorrow we'll meet at the coffee shop where we met after that inauguration party, at two PM. Hopefully we're all out by then."
Seeing his brothers without the orange jumpsuits would be the best feeling he’d had in a while. Personally, he'd need a hot shower and clean clothes to feel human again. He patted his brother's shoulder and walked toward the guard. "Ollie, I'll be there."
This time when they put the cuffs on him, Logan didn't care. He kept his head up and walked toward the visitor’s area.
This was a room he hadn’t seen before. Red roses clashed with the dreary beige wall. His lawyer stood with someone who must be the justice of the peace. The guard took off his cuffs and offered him his suit—the one he'd been arrested in.
The tailored suit had been new, but prison closets didn't leave his clothes smelling fresh. He would add clean clothes to his list of things to get for him and his brothers.
The lawyer pointed toward the bathroom and Logan took the clothes and changed. There was just a toilet and sink—no shower. He splashed his face.
At least he wasn't to be married in his orange jumpsuit though his skin still itched, and he missed feeling completely clean and shaven.
Focus on the positive. His Italian leather shoes retained the shine and the suit was worth a few thousand dollars. Within five minutes, he’d buckled the leather belt around his pants and started to feel like himself.
Soon he'd get access to money again and earn enough to get his parents out.
A razor for his face would be nice, but for now he finger-combed his hair and stepped back into the room.
A young woman with brown hair swept up at her nape waited by the justice of the peace. Her white dress went to her knees. Again the image of a girl with red glasses and a ponytail as she answered a question in AP Calculus hit him hard.
He joined her and felt a jolt in his bones as she turned and he saw her clear face and deep, chocolate brown eyes. "You're Hannah Hughes?"
“Yes.” Her eyes widened as she stared at him too. Desire coursed through him instantly, but he refused to even acknowledge it. She took a deep breath. “Do you remember me from high school?”
“It was you then. I’m confused.”
“That makes two of us. Are you ready to get married today, Logan?"
Her sweet voice reverberated in his mind and body. No woman had ever affected him like this before. True, she was the first female he'd seen in a month without a prison guard uniform on, but she was far from the evil pirate lady he’d imagined. His fingers itched to touch her. Would her skin be as soft as it looked? The lavender that filled his nose right now was all her. "I figured you must be horribly scarred or homely to agree to this sham."
She gave a sarcastic laugh. "Well, put me down in your books as a complete fool. Let's do this and get out of here."
The justice of the peace and the lawyer checked the paperwork. It was all very official.
Logan leaned closer and smelled her honeysuckle and lavender soap. Once he'd been great at telling from a woman's perfume how to get her into bed, but Hannah didn't give off the easy or available vibe. Despite that, he still flirted. "Honey, I'm all yours for tonight."
She stepped away like she wanted to jump a mile in the opposite direction. "Yeah, well you're coming home with me tonight but sleeping in the extra room."
He probably smelled bad and needed that shower. Or it might be she didn't like men who had been in prison. He couldn't blame her there. He’d try again with her, once he was confident in his game. "Tomorrow, we move to Miami."
Her eyes widened again. "Huh?"
His gaze flew to White, his lawyer. Had he amended the contract? This was a no-go deal if he wasn’t free to move out of DC. The willowy woman that made his body tense with desire still pursed her lips and seemed like she’d run far away from him. Okay, possibly he'd still marry this Hannah if he could help his family, but it would be easier to do from home. He pointed toward his lawyer. "It’s important that I live in Miami for the next month, if that is all right with you?"
The lawyer and the justice of the peace brought over the papers for them to sign. Hannah read the part about living in Miami. She clutched a small gold cross she'd hidden under her dress, but then signed the final contract. "That's fine. We’re both from Miami and, honestly, I hate winter. So it's a good place to move."
"Glad we agree." Logan’s tension eased as he signed everything, his initials next to hers.
Were things starting to go his way?
The lawyer and the justice of the peace filed every piece of paper, and once done, his lawyer went immediately and spoke to a guard. Logan assumed they were discussing his bail and release from prison.
Hannah waited quietly, very composed considering the situation. He flashed her a smile that usually worked on charming women.
Hannah shrugged off his smile like she hadn't seen it, but she then kept her gaze on the justice of the peace, a man in his fifties that White had found somewhere to do this work as he pocketed his notes about what to say in a marriage ceremony. Logan said, "Agreeing will make our time more bearable. I think the justice of the peace is ready. So, we're about to say I do."
He reached out and took her hand for the ceremony. A jolt of awareness rushed through him and he stared at her again in pleasant surprise. "Hannah Hughes, the face of my angel."
“I’m no angel.”
He ignored the sparks of desire and focused on the ceremony and how soon he’d be free. His family needed him to do this.
He wouldn’t let anyone down.
Her breaths came shorter and her face turned slightly red as she whispered, "I wasn't expecting to find you attractive either, Logan. Your pictures don't do you justice and I didn’t remember much about you in school."
“In high school, my older brother, Oliver, was the memorable one.” He was glad he hadn't lost his looks during this horrible month, though the prince he used to be would shine after a shower and shaving off the beard. He clutched her hand a little harder. "Fair warning, though, that since then, I've always been able to charm any woman I’ve ever met."
She shook her head but laughed a little easier. "We'll see."
"Yes, we most definitely will, Hannah." He let the fireworks he felt for her physically explode in his chest—it was like winning the lottery. Perhaps his attraction to her was because she was the first soft, flesh and blood and attractive looking woman he'd seen in a month, but there was more to her. He was going home with this woman as his wife.
The justice of the peace said something, and Logan pretended to listen. Soon he'd free his parents. Life was good today because after a month of hell he had a mission to accomplish and a beautiful new wife to seduce.