THE BILLIONAIRE'S UNCONVENTIONAL BRIDES

I parked my sleek black sedan in the expansive garage of my family estate, the quiet hum of the engine dissipating as I stepped out. The late afternoon sun bathed the Sleighman property in warm, golden light, casting a nice, earthy scene that did little to lighten my mood. I'd spent hours at the office struggling with plenty challenges at Soliel Vineyards, and my frustration boiled inside me while I looked composed on the outside.

Click-clack. The sharp rhythm of my red Louboutins echoed off the tiled floor as I entered through the massive oak front door, a load of paperwork tucked underneath my arm. An aroma of fresh lilies from a nearby vase wafted through the air, an R&B melody humming in the air, pulling my attention toward the parlour.

Dad was a stout man, with streaks of silver in his dark hair, hunched over a pile of documents on the vintage mahogany coffee table. His brow was deeply furrowed, and he barely looked up when I entered.

By the mini bar, my two-year-younger sister, Caila, sat on a stool. She hummed along to the song playing softly from her phone while her fingers moved deftly, manipulating pieces of wire and polymer clay. A 3D artist, Caila was always creating-something that today I had no idea what it was, but was sure would come out spectacular.

"Hey, babe," I said, leaning down to kiss Caila on the cheek. The faint scent of lavender shampoo wafted from Caila's hair.

"Hey, sis," she replied without breaking her rhythm. "You look like you've had a day."

"You have no idea," I muttered, straightening. I strode to the sofa where Dad sat and unceremoniously dropped the files on the table in front of him.

More bad news?" he asked gruffly without lifting his eyes from his own pile of papers.

"Take a wild guess," I sighed, folding my arms. "The distributors are threatening to pull out. They're losing confidence, Dad. We can't keep delaying payments and expect them to stay loyal.

Dad rubbed his temples, the weight of the situation evident in his tired gaze. "I'm well aware of the family situation, Aria. What do you want me to do? Pull money out of thin air?"

"I'm saying we need to stop putting out fires and start fixing the damn structure. The vineyard needs-“

“I know what the vineyard needs!" he snapped at me. "If only you'd consider marrying Victor Hayes. His family has the resources, and they're willing to help us."

My jaw tightened and I rolled my eyes. "We've been through this. The answer is no."

"Well, this is the problem with you, isn't it-“

"I said no, Dad." My voice was snappy, my eyes ablaze with defiance. "I'm not a pawn for you to trade in some business deal."

At this, his phone buzzed on the table. Grumbling a swear under his breath, he snatched it up and answered.

“What is it?" he snapped into the phone, clearly irritable. Almost immediately, he looked different, his eyes wide with interest. "Yes, I'm listening. Are you serious? Can it be arranged?" His voice was light in a way I'd hardly ever heard.

I exchanged a confused glance with Caila, who had finally looked up from her work.

"Yes, arrange the meeting," Dad continued, now in a brusque and almost eager tone. "The sooner, the better."

He hung up and stood abruptly, reaching for his suit jacket and the files from the table. "You two, get ready. Look presentable and pretty. We have an important guest coming tonight."

"Who is it?" I asked, but he was already heading for the door.

"You'll find out soon enough," he called over his shoulder before disappearing out the door.

I stared after him, bewildered. "What was that about?" I asked Caila.

"No idea," Caila said quietly, her hands now moving once more. "But if it gets him out of his funk, I'm all for it."

I sighed and ran a hand through my brown hair. "I'm going to take a nap before whatever shit this is. Cause I'm literally tired. Get some rest, will you?"

"Noted," Caila replied, already turning back to her sculpture.

By evening, the estate gleamed under the soft glow of chandeliers. I stood before my full-length mirror in an elegant navy-blue gown that accentuated my slim figure. My dark hair was styled in soft waves, and a simple diamond necklace adorned my neck.

"Ready?" Caila came into my room in a floor-length emerald dress, her dark blonde hair pulled into a sleek bun. She twirled, her hazel eyes sparkling while she smiled shyly. "We look like we're heading to the Oscars."

"Dad said to look presentable," I replied dryly. "He didn't say to outshine the guest."

"Oh, stop " Caila blushed. "Let's go."

We went down the staircase, side by side, with the soft rustling of our dresses with every step. Dad was already waiting in the foyer, standing tall and polished in his tailored suit.

The car pulling into the driveway distracted us. A few moments later, the butler opened the front door and a man stepped inside.

I caught my breath.

Hell no.

Jace Sharpe.

The name was practically the same as wealth and power. As the CEO of Sharpe Techs, Jace had built an empire that spanned continents. He was a global personality, gracing magazine covers and commanding attention wherever he went. Tonight, he was dressed in a sharp black suit, his chiseled features and piercing icy blue eyes exuding an air of authority.

He looked at us, his eyes sweeping over us with silent scrutiny. I tensed up under his piercing gaze, unsure whether to be flattered or insulted. Beside me, Caila shifted slightly, looking equally as unsure.

"Mr. Sharpe," Dad said with a wide, almost uncharacteristic smile. "Welcome to our home. Please, come in."

Jace's lips curled into a humourless smile as he stepped further inside. "Thank you for having me, Mr. Sleighman."

"These are my daughters, Aria and Caila," Dad introduced, gesturing toward us.

Jace inclined his head. "A pleasure."

Caila gave a practiced smile and angled her head. I finally found my voice. "Likewise, Mr. Sharpe." I kept my tone neutral, though my mind raced. Why was Jace Sharpe doing here?

Dad chuckled and clapped Jace on the shoulder, with familiarity and I noticed Jace stiffen immediately. "Shall we move to the dining room? Dinner is ready."

Jace nodded and shrugged Dad's hands off him, making Dad grit his teeth with embarrassment.  The two men made their way toward the large dining room. Caila and I trailed behind, exchanging uncertain glances.

"What do you think this is about?" Caila whispered.

“No idea," I replied low. "But I don't like the way Dad's smiling. It's never good when he smiles like that."

Caila bit her lip, and we trailed after Dad and Jace into the room, preparing for whatever the night might have in store.