Page 31 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

“I don’t believe in sleeping when life-altering decisions are on the table,” I reply, trying to ignore how good he looks in that bespoke suit.

Focus on the contract, not the contours, Ava.

It doesn’t help that his cologne keeps conjuring unnecessary memories.

Concentrate, Ava.

Mr. Hoffman, a silver-haired man with gold-rimmed glasses, clears his throat. “Miss Redwood, while we appreciate your... enthusiasm, we have already prepared a standard agreement that covers all necessary aspects of this arrangement.”

“I’m sure you have,” I say bluntly, sliding my papers toward him. “And I’m also sure Mr. King appreciates thoroughness in business dealings. I didn’t come here two hours early to sign a ‘standard agreement.’ Your client specifically told me he would consider my conditions.”

Gideon’s mouth twitches. “She’s right, Howard. I did tell her. Let’s hear what she has to say.”

The lawyer adjusts his glasses with a thinly veiled sigh. I feel heat rising to my cheeks but press on anyway.

“So. I want these in writing. First, separate bedrooms. Non-negotiable.”

Gideon nods once. “Agreed.”

“Second, I maintain complete artistic freedom. My work, my decisions, my career path.”

“Of course.”

“Third,” I flip to my second page, “public appearances are limited to essential business functions. No excessive PDA.”

“Define excessive,” Gideon interjects.

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“Public displays of affection,” he clarifies, leaningforward slightly. “We need to appear genuinely married. That requires some level of physical contact. I need parameters.”

My face burns hotter.

Great. Now we’re negotiating how much he gets to touch me. This is totally normal Tuesday morning activity.

“Hand-holding is fine. Brief kisses if absolutely necessary for appearances. Arm around the waist in social settings.” I’m surprised by how clinical my voice sounds discussing something so intimate.

“Acceptable,” Gideon says. “Continue.”

“Fourth, I want financial autonomy. The settlement goes into an account in my name only.”

Mr. Hoffman interjects, “That contradicts the purpose of the Spousal Asset Protection Trust. Perhaps you don’t fully understand the legal structure—”

“I understand enough,” I cut in, heart hammering. “The trust needs to exist for his company’s protection. That’s separate from my compensation.”

Gideon studies me, his gray eyes intense. “She’s right again, Howard. The settlement is hers, unconditional upon the success of our arrangement.”

The lawyer makes a note, clearly unhappy being overruled twice in five minutes.

“I also want the first installment of the settlement paid upfront, immediately after signing,” I add, gripping my pen tighter.Because trust issues are my superpower, and also, art supplies aren’t getting any cheaper.

Gideon tilts his head slightly. “May I ask what the rush is?”

“No.” I keep my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my stomach.

He considers this for a moment, then nods. “Reasonable. Howard, add a clause for an immediatefirst installment of—” he glances at me “—ten percent of the total settlement?”

My eyebrows shoot up. That’s more than I expected to negotiate for. I’m speechless, and can’t formulate an answer immediately.

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