Page 90 of The Billionaire's Demand

She rolled her eyes. ‘You know what I mean.’ Forcing herself to act normal, or try to seem normal, she lifted a piece of toast to her lips, took a small bite, chewed, struggled to swallow. ‘You’re usually long gone by now.’

His eyes flickered over her face. ‘We have to sign the paperwork,’ he said, reaching for the tie that was hanging loose either side of his chest and beginning to draw it together. His fingers were nimble and deft, working the silk until it formed a perfect knot at his throat. She was transfixed by the simple, mechanical gesture. He obviously performed the task often, and yet there was something about his confident motions that made her skin lift in goosebumps.

‘Oh.’ Libby’s heart thudded against her chest. ‘Now?’

‘As soon as possible. Have your lawyers looked it over?’

She shook her head, took another bite of toast to buy time, aiming for casual nonchalance. ‘I wanted to read it through first.’

He looked at her expectantly.

‘I’ll do it today,’ she promised, looking longingly towards the outside world, thinking of the walk she’d been planning on.

‘Okay. Let’s discuss it tonight. Dinner?’

Libby’s eyes strayed back to Raul’s face, surprise in her features. ‘Oh.’ She dusted crumbs from the side of her lips. ‘I mean... Sure,’ she heard herself agree, even when inwardly she wanted to run from the idea of dinner with Raul, discussing the contract for their marriage.

But wasn’t she the one who’d insisted on all of this?

On a proper prenuptial agreement, on them trying to form a relationship that had some kind of semblance to civility and friendship? They couldn’t do that by never being in the same room.

‘Okay,’ she said with more confidence. ‘I’ll cook.’

He looked as though she’d suggested an afternoon skydive. ‘Please don’t bother. I’ll organise something.’

‘It’s no trouble,’ Libby promised. ‘I like to cook, really.’

‘It wasn’t my intention to put you out.’

Libby expelled a breath and then laughed unsteadily. ‘Raul, if we’re going to do this, we have to start acting more normally. We’re going to be raising a child together. I’m going to cook meals—I like to cook. It isn’t a big deal.’

He nodded slowly, still looking far from convinced. ‘If you’re sure.’

‘I am.’ She felt strange. This was the closest they’d come to normal domesticity—him here, in the mornings, putting on a tie, talking about something they needed to do together, planning for dinner.

‘Any food allergies?’ she asked as he reached for his jacket and pulled it on.

Raul’s laugh was a single bark, but it spread through her body like wildfire and then she was grinning too. This man probably had the constitution of a lion. ‘I like food,’ he said, walking to the door. ‘All food, and lots of it.’

‘Got it,’ she murmured, taking another bite of toast. ‘Make loads.’

He shot her a smile as he opened the door and her heart jettisoned from her chest and into her throat. Something like panic slicked her palms. ‘See you tonight, Libby.’

By the time Libby had made her way to the amazing grocery store on the west side of the park and perused the aisles and deli counter, decided what she was going to make then bought the ingredients, she was too laden to make it home on foot, so she had her first experience of a New York City cab—which she loved, and she and the driver made conversation the whole way around the park and up Fifth Avenue. She paid with cash and her dwindling supply put her in mind of how pressing her financial situation was. She knew it was a conversation she had to have with Raul.

After all, she had no employment prospects in New York as she wasn’t legally able to work, and there was still rent to cover on her apartment back home. She’d made the decision to continue her tenancy, because it seemed too permanent to get rid of the flat just yet. She wasn’t ready.

But the walls were closing in on her. She felt the financial insecurity pinching her, just as it always had as a child. Since leaving school, she’d been determined to stand on her own two feet. To work just as hard as she could to make sure she’d never have to worry about money ever again. Yet here she was, in a gilded cage, without her own financial security, and it scared her, even when she knew somehow that Raul would never see her go hungry. That wasn’t quite the same thing as being in control of your own financial destiny, but there was nothing she could do about that for now. Once the baby was born she’d make it a priority to find a way to stand—at least a little—on her own.

Back in the apartment, she set dinner cooking then made a tea and sat down with the contracts, opening them to the last page she’d read on the flight over, and flushed to the roots of her hair.

To see the intimate details of their marriage written in such stark detail did something funny to her pulse, just as it had on the plane. She knew she should be glad that it was all there in black and white, but she couldn’t help the hot flush that ran over her skin as she contemplated the sort of marriage they were negotiating, that two teams of lawyers would be aware of.

It all just felt so...depressing.

She sighed, turning the page, focusing on the next section. Schooling. She read with interest the provisions laid out by Raul—all very reasonable. They were to have equal say in the choice of school, and where they could not find agreement he’d selected a family counselling service to offer mediation. Libby turned the page, continued to read.

The next heading was: In the Event of Both Parents’ Deaths. She blanched a little, the thought one that hadn’t occurred to her. Her grip on the pen tightened, because the all-consuming love she already felt for their unborn child made her reticent to even contemplate such an event—the idea of their baby being flotsam in the world, with no one to love him or her, filled her with despair.

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