Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Call it corporate espionage if that helps at all. I ask for one year, and in return, you’ll still be allowed to inherit.” His eyebrows raise. “After the divorce, naturally. There will be some extremely aggressive prenuptial agreements put in place.”
I look away, down at my hands, weighing the deal. One year is still a long time.
It’ll also mean betraying Stefano in the end, and I don’t know if he deserves that.
I think of the man from the warehouse last night. The scarred, brutal, vicious bastard. The asshole who expects obedience.
Maybe it’ll be fun to disobey him the whole time.
Or maybe I’m just desperate enough to agree to anything right now, so long as it leaves me with a glimmer of hope.
I know this is wrong. No part of me wants to marry Stefano only to use him, even if he was kind of a dick the other night.
I’m not that kind of person.
Grandfather taught me to be aggressive and brutally efficient, but I’ve always managed to avoid hurting people in the process.
Except I see no other way out. I could call my father’s bluff, but I really don’t think that’ll end well.
This is the best of all the terrible options.
One year as Stefano’s wife. I’ll mine him for what he knows and give it all to my greedy grandfather.
And in the end, what will I be left with? Freedom?
What’s the point of that if I leave my soul behind?
I despise this. I can still taste Stefano’s tongue against mine. I can feel him between my legs. It almost makes me smile, if it didn’t make me feel sick to my stomach.
But I just can’t see any other way out.
I have to play the game. Even if the game’s being forced on me.
“I’ll do it,” I say in a small voice before raising my chin again to glare at my grandfather. “And when I inherit, I’m going to destroy my father.”
“That’s my girl.” Grandfather seems genuinely delighted. “Good luck, dear. I have all the faith in the world in you.”
I really doubt that.
But I just made a deal with the devil, and there’s no going back.
Chapter 9
Stefano
Anarrow little man with a skinny mustache presents me with a folder packed with papers. “You’ll find everything in order,” he says, placing them down on the table in front of me, along with a golden pen. “I’ve already marked where you must initial, date, and sign. You’ll see that Ms. Westbrook’s already taken the liberty of filling out her sections.”
I scowl at him and slowly place my glass of whiskey down on the middle of the packet. Water seeps around the edges, getting the paper damp. “What is this?”
The lawyer squirms. He’s probably not used to men like me. This man’s war room is the law office, while mine is a blood-soaked ring.
“The prenup. Surely you discussed it with your, ah—” He looks around as if he might find help. But Enzo and Luca aren’t exactly jumping to his aid. Both stare back, seeming amused. “Your associates.”
“Hear that, Stefano? He thinks we’re your associates,” Enzo cracks, sounding amused. “I wonder what he thinks we associate for?”
“Leave the poor lawyer alone,” Luca says, grinning. “You’re going to make him piss himself.”
I lean forward and stare into the small man’s face. He visibly swallows like in some old cartoon. It’d be funny, except nobody told me about a prenup, and right now I’m not in the laughing mood.
“I’m supposed to say my vows in two hours.” I speak very slowly so he understands that I am not fucking around right now. “Sum this whole thing up to me as simply as possible.”
“And use small words,” Enzo adds. “He’s not very patient.”
I flip him off, but I keep glaring at the lawyer.
“Well, ah, it’s a standard prenup. Ms. Westbrook will retain her own money, and you will keep your own. If the pair of you, uh, divorce, Ms. Westbrook’s current assets will remain her own. There are provisions for child support—”
“You think I need a contract to take care of my own fucking children?” I lean into his face, gritting my teeth. “You think I’m that much of an animal?”
The man pales. I’m just fucking with him now, and it’s probably not nice, but I am genuinely annoyed. “No, no, nothing like that. This is all standard, I promise you, Mr. Bianchi, all very standard. If you like, you can speak with your own representation—”
“He means we can summon our own mob lawyer,” Enzo supplies.
“Just sign the papers and get on with it,” Luca says tiredly. “We’re not getting any lawyers involved.”
I lift my glass and take a long drink before snatching the folder up into my hand. The bastard Westbrooks waited until the last second to drop this prenup bomb on purpose. They want to back me into a corner. Make me sign without reading. They probably have lots of very good provisions in here.