by K. I. Lynn
“There are many women who would throw self-respect out the window for what I am offering.”
That wasn’t a volley I was expecting. A man of his stature should have laid down an ultimatum, and his reluctance to do so let me know he wanted me in particular.
And that knowledge was powerful.
I stood. “Fine. Find one of them, then.” Another gamble.
“Sit.”
I jutted my chin out. “Agree, or I’m gone.”
His jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might crack, and his eyes narrowed. “No sex,” he ground out.
I gave a curt nod and sat back down while I tried not to cheer my victory or take in the realization that he truly wanted me. “Before we continue, I need some clarification.”
“Go ahead.”
There were a lot of variables in what he wanted. Things that could go wrong. “What happens if one of us is infertile?”
The question lifted some of the ire radiating off him, and he relaxed back into his chair. “We will pretend this never happened, but to save us both time, we will be tested for the basics before the contract is signed. Along with other health screenings.”
STDs probably. Since I was from a lower class and all. The sneer in me was strong, and I had to hold back that thought.
“To add to that, what if I don’t get pregnant in that time frame?”
“The second you say ‘I do,’ my cum will be filling you by whatever means necessary every day until you are.”
Something about that sentence sent shivers through me and caused my nipples to harden as my thighs clenched. I had to clear my throat to get back on topic and away from the images threatening to take over my mind. Images of him pinning my hips down with his own hips, feeling the jerk of his tip deep inside me.
Fuck! Get it together, Ophelia.
“So when I have a baby and the term ends…then what?”
His brow scrunched. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, do I still get to see my child, or does my child get taken from me?”
His eyes widened, and he seemed affronted somehow. I thought it was a good, direct question. For all I knew, he planned to completely cut me off from everything as soon as the divorce papers were signed. That was a hard limit. Even though I hadn’t even thought of having children yet, I knew there would be no way I would allow them to be taken from me.
“Of course you would still see them. You would simply be under no obligation to remain married to me. I would not cut off access to our children.”
I nodded to the paper he was making notes on. “I want joint custody, and I want it in writing.”
“You don’t trust me?”
I shook my head. “No.”
He released a small chuckle, his lip twitching. “Anything else?”
The knots in my stomach tightened, and I swallowed hard. Doing this, saying yes, signing a contract, I was forfeiting my life to him. Any dreams or aspirations I held were to be put on hold.
I worried my bottom lip as I scoured my mind for any last objections or concerns. The main things were covered, and as my heart thumped so hard in my chest, I had difficulty agreeing.
“My debts n—”
“Will be taken care of.”
I quirked a brow at him. “You don’t even know what they are.”
“Three hundred thousand in school debt, two thousand on your credit card. I’ll also pay off your lease.”
“How…”
He quirked a brow at me. “Did you think I didn’t investigate you before asking you to marry me?”
It was a shock for a few seconds, but then it made complete sense. He was the motherfucking CEO of the de Loughrey Corporation. Of course he would do his homework before offering me such a sum. “Well, you technically never asked. In those words.”
“Anything else?”
I swallow hard, stalling. “What if I have skeletons in the closet?”
His hard gaze met my frightened one. I just hoped he couldn’t tell how freaked out I really was. My foot tapped against the ground, and I nearly had the strap to my bag unraveled.
“Is there something I should know?”
“My stepfather…” I trailed off, unsure what to say. Was an ass? I didn’t trust him? He’d hit me before? “Is a drunk bastard.”
“I’m aware. However, I don’t foresee him being an issue.”
“Why not?”
“When was the last contact you had with him?”
I went to answer, my lips parting, then just froze. “Christmas.”
“And before then?”
“August, when I dropped off my sister’s birthday present.”
“He may be a bastard, but I’m a bigger asshole. I have no fear of that tiny skeleton. He is inconsequential and holds no bearing in these negotiations.”
Ah, negotiations. Just what I always wanted to hear when talking about getting married.
How romantic.
“Your answer, Ophelia.”
I bit down on my bottom lip, my stomach turning. “You give me all that, and we have an agreement.” The words slipped out, and I watched his lips creep up into a smile.
What have I done?
She agreed.
She fucking agreed.
The moment she did, it felt like one of the large chains holding me down slid away. While tentative, she said yes, and the final draft of the contract was in motion.
We’d both spent the last few days having tests done and giving Rhys time to finalize the contract.
In front of me lay the last hurdle—our health reports. One of the most important was that we were both clean of any STDs, and we were. The second was the fertility report, which showed no obvious issues, with hormone and sperm count levels being in the normal range.
The health history and physicals didn’t show anything of concern, which was good.
While her father was dead, I knew it wasn’t health related. I’d done my homework before I set my plan in motion, and that included an in-depth background check. It would have been irresponsible to jump into such an arrangement without a thorough history, and I was not one to be so hasty.
Yes, I had done it a year ago, but that was due to suspicion after having her suddenly show up as my waitress after fucking her. I simply had it updated and a few questions answered.
I rubbed my eyes, the fatigue of the day wearing on me. I’d endured another visit from my father trying to set up dinner with Amelia Harris. The man was hardheaded, and I was going to have to beat Ophelia into his skull for him to understand that I would never agree to an arranged marriage.
The sun was long gone and my office was lit by only the under-cabinet lights on the credenza and the lamp atop my desk. I leaned back, my gaze glancing at the clock. It was past nine, and it was quite possible I was the only one in the office.
With a creak, my attention was pulled to the figure stepping into my office.
Well, I wasn’t the last person.
“Here’s your contract,” Rhys said as he tossed the leather contract binder onto the desk in front of me.
I opened it and flipped through the pages. I looked toward him, watching as he sat down in the chair in front of my desk. “Ironclad?” I asked.
Rhys narrowed his eyes at me. “Really, cousin?” He clasped his hands in front of him.
“And her clause?”
“More than a few loopholes.”
“Good.” He stared at me for a moment, and I let out a sigh and shut the portfolio. “Spit it out.”
He threw up his hands. “I’m surprised, is all. This contract is merciless, yet you’ve purposely left yourself room to bed her without breaking the contract.”
Of course I had. There was absolutely no way I was going to go five fucking years without sex, and I was going to make certain it was her beneath me. Our children would be made by the head of my cock pressed snugly against her cervix.
“She’s going to give me an heir, and I’m not letting some fucking lab do
what my cock is perfectly capable of doing.”
“I understand that. It’s just more of a move I’d expect from your father or Hamilton.”
I didn’t like the comparison to my father. My entire life, I made sure to distance myself from being like him in any way that I could. “Hamilton may be a shark, but he’s not a snake. You’re more apt to fit that description.”
“You wound me, cousin,” he said with a smirk.
“They call you the Lethal Lawyer for a reason. By the way, what is it I hear about you having an intern next summer?” It was only the beginning of June, but news had already circulated.
Rhys clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “Father gifted his alma mater a single internship. Being the only lawyer in the family besides him, it falls to me.”
“The poor soul that ends up with you.”
“Laugh now, but just remember you’re having to buy a wife.”
“I refuse to be bound to some arranged marriage like my parents. The last thing I want is some rich-bitch socialite who can’t even suck my dick without getting something monetarily out of it.”
He quirked a brow. “Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “The difference is I picked her.”
“I think you need to call up one of your little playthings before this contract gets signed to work off your tension. Who knows when the next time you’ll get to drain your balls in a woman again? Could be five years.”
It wasn’t a bad idea. Ophelia was coming by in the morning to sign the contract, giving me the evening to relieve the pressure. The problem was that it was something I’d been saying for months and had yet to do, and I fucking blamed her.
“I’ll have Ophelia pinned to my bed in less than six months.”
“Are we betting on it?”
“Just keep this whole business to yourself. I don’t want my father finding out.”
“He’s going to flip anyway. She has no social standing. A waitress, for fuck’s sake. Why on earth did you pick her?”
“Accessibility coupled with fuckability.”
“You’re really embracing your unscrupulous side. I’m proud of you.”
“I don’t have to behave in that manner to make this company thrive.”
“And yet you are, in order to avoid an arranged marriage, and instead, marrying a woman who gets paid to wait on you.”
I tapped the contract. “One I will control. She has nothing, and therefore she is more pliant when money is on the line.”
“Devil’s advocate—what if money isn’t enough? I only remember her from the hazy night nearly a year ago, but by some of the wording you chose, she sounds like a wild horse.”
“One I will break. Money is the carrot I dangle to keep her in line.”
“Very wicked, cousin.”
With that, he left, and I decided to do the same.
My stomach was oddly tense the next morning. I’d hardly slept, unable to take the anxiety that something would change and Ophelia would back out. Then what would I do?
Anxiety wasn’t something I dealt with often. Not in my position. The level of confidence I had in all things seemed to shatter in Ophelia’s presence.
Not that I could ever let her know how she affected me.
I kept the door to my office open, something that never happened, in anticipation of her arrival. My gaze flickered to the clock constantly, cursing it for only having moved seconds when it felt like minutes.
The emotions swirling inside me were absurd. Why was I so tangled up over this?
My head snapped up the second she stepped in, my eyes fixed on her, and my muscles relaxed.
She came.
“Good morning,” I said. I tilted my head to Holly, who was standing at the door. At my gesture, she closed it, leaving me alone with Ophelia.
“Good morning.”
Despite my relief, my nerves still vibrated. I couldn’t remember a time I’d been so desperate to have a contract signed.
As I looked her over, I took note of the dark circles around her beautiful brown eyes. It seemed perhaps I wasn’t the only one losing sleep over my proposal. She looked so youthful otherwise, and she was. Ten years my junior, and so beautiful I constantly had a hard time not staring at her like some love-struck fool.
“Are you ready to become the soon-to-be Mrs. Atticus de Loughrey?”
“Ophelia de Loughrey,” she whispered. It was a simple trying of the name on her tongue, but it sent a spike of heat through to my heart, making it speed up.
The name hit my core with an absolute feeling of perfection.
I cleared my throat in an attempt to get it over with so that these feelings might leave me.
I pulled the leather legal binders closer before picking one up and handing it to her. “Would you like to go over the changes?”
She nodded, then slipped back a loose lock of hair from her face. “Yes. But first, what are the consequences of breaking the contract?”
“I thought you read through it.”
“I did, but can you clarify them for me.”
I nodded. “If you break them you will need to repay me for any monetary loss I have incurred for things such as your debts and other expenses. If I break it, you’ll have five million dollars to add to your bank account.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, then nodded.
After half an hour, we’d concluded the contract revisions and I held out a pen. Her hand shook slightly as she grasped it. I watched with great interest as she set the tip down on the line over her printed name. She picked it back up again, pausing, and I swore my heart stopped, even if just for a fraction of a second.
Then with beautiful fluidity, the letters of her name appeared as the pen glided across the paper.
The process was repeated on a secondary copy, my copy, and relief washed over me.
The papers were signed, and an odd warmth filled me. Ophelia was finally mine.
Finally?
There was no time to delve into my psyche, and I honestly didn’t want to. It had been on the fritz all morning anyway. What I wanted to do was make it official.
A small box sat next to my phone, almost innocuous, but it held a very important token. A hum of electricity passed between us when I took her hand in mine, drawing it up.
“And with this, we are engaged,” I said as I slipped the ring onto her finger.
“Holy shit, that thing is huge.” Her eyes were wide as she stared down at the diamonds that adorned her dainty fingers.
“Do you like it?” I asked, finding I was genuinely hoping she did. How odd.
She smiled at me and nodded. “It’s beautiful.”
It pleased me that she liked it, that I had done well at picking the nine-carat stone with its delicate circlet of smaller diamonds.
“I’m just going to pretend like it’s fake, because I might shove it right back at you if I knew how much it cost.”
I chuckled at that. Considering the amount I spent on it, I didn’t doubt that might be the case, though she might have been the only woman I knew to make such a statement. “We have a lot to go over.”
“Starting with?”
“How much your life is going to change in the next few forty-eight hours.”
She stared at me blankly, much like a deer in headlights. Wasn’t she anticipating the severe alteration her life was about to undertake?
“My fiancée can’t be seen living in that shitbox in Brooklyn, so you will move in with me by tomorrow afternoon.”
She groaned, her head falling back. “Fuck,” she hissed. “Why didn’t I think about that?”
We’d talked about me paying off her debts, and I clearly remember mentioning I’d pay off the remainder of her lease.
“Don’t worry—you’ll have plenty of room to yourself. Next, I’ll have Jack set you up some appointments.”
“Appointments for what? And who is Jack?”
“Jack is my personal assistant. And you’l
l need to look the part, not just play it.”
“I thought Holly was your personal assistant.”
“You’re going to be learning a lot and have a lot thrown at you, so I hope you are prepared.” The deer-in-headlights look resided on her face, confirming that she was completely overwhelmed. She’d thought about my proposal, read it in the contract, talked about it, but it seemed she’d missed thinking about what happened after she signed on the line. “To make it easy: Holly is office, Jack is home.”
Her brow scrunched. “Please tell me you don’t have an assistant that assists your life outside of work.”
“We all do. For now, Jack will also act as your assistant. He can help you in any way you need.”
“Is it too late to back out?” she asked as she leaned over.
“Yes.” There was no way I was letting her back out now. “We both signed. You’ll get used to it all—it’s just a steep learning curve for you until then. Do you have a passport?”
“No.”
“We need to get you one right away.” I tapped on my phone, sending a message off to Jack.
“Why?”
“Because I often leave the country, and I will take you with me.”
“Oh,” was all she said in response. She chewed on her bottom lip, brow scrunched as she glanced down at her hand. “What now?”
“Now, go home. I have a moving crew arriving in the morning to help pack up your apartment and relocate your belongings to my condo.” I paused and picked up my phone, looking over the schedule before setting it back down. “They’ll be there at ten. Once that is done, you’ll come here and I’ll take you over.”
She stared at me, already off kilter and unsure what to do. “I guess I’ll get going, then. I have to get to work.”
“You won’t be working,” I said, cutting her off.
She blinked at me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve already contacted your manager and told him you won’t be returning.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t need the money anymore.”
She shook her head. “Even with you footing my food and housing and covering my debts, I still have bills.”
“And they are?”
She threw her hands up in the air. “Phone, for starters.” She seemed to be racking her brain trying to come up with something outside of all that I would provide, but nothing else slipped from her lips.
