Page 14 of Finding Forever

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’ve overheard Granger speak about you to Richard several times before your arrival yesterday. I think he always felt aggrieved and outsmarted by you. That was why he played these petty games with you. Because he could neverquiteget his way with you. I can’t say he likes you very much.” She allowed a small, malicious smile to tug at the corners of her lips as she recalled her stepfather’s constant frustration when it came to his dealings with these men. “It was because of his dislike of you that I took a leap and decided to trust you. It was risky, but I had no other viable alternative.”

Her straightforward response startled a gruff laugh out of the older man, and he slanted an inscrutable look toward Cade, who was sitting on the same bench seat as her, but what felt like miles away, against the door.

Fern risked a glance at Cade, before diverting her gaze back to her hands, which were twisted nervously in her lap.

“So where are we going?” she asked.

“To the chapel,” Cade intoned in a somber tone of voice. “Where we’re gonna get… married.”

His father choked back another laugh and the deadpan delivery of the line immediately brought Fern’s eyes back up to Cade’s face. His expression was as inscrutable as always, but she caught a glimmer of something resembling humor in that penetrative stare. His eyes were deep, dark gray with these mesmerizing striations of blue threaded throughout the gray that made them disturbingly beautiful. He was so handsome it was almost painful to look at him for too long.

Tall and so seriously big, that even while he sat practically huddled in the opposite corner of the huge limo, she still felt crowded by his bulk. He was too big, too muscled to be an attorney. Someone with his build should be in construction, or working on an oil rig or something. His hands were meant for wielding power tools and sledgehammers. She’d recently read somewhere that all of the Hawthorne children—even McKenna—had spent their adolescence working on construction sites to get a feel of the business at grassroots level. It certainly showed in the Cade’s bulk.

The gold Montblanc fountain pen he was gripping between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand looked out of place in that huge, rough paw.

His silky black hair fell over his broad sweeping forehead in wings from a slight widow’s peak. One that she could see he’d inherited from his father. That wasn’t the only thing he’d inherited from the older man. There were also the dimples, deep grooves in their cheeks that were present even when they were not smiling. And seriously, Fern couldn’t recall seeing Cade smile more than twice. And both of those times had been on the night they’d first met.

There was no sign of any smile on his face currently, despite his dry little pun of just a moment ago. He held her gaze a moment longer, before picking up his briefcase and opening it to rifle through the contents. He produced a thick sheaf of papers and handed them to her.

“My team drafted these while we were en-route.”

She flipped blindly through the documents, before lifting her eyes to meet his again.

“Prenup,” he said, separating one paper-clipped document from the batch. “Basically, protects us both. What’s mine is mine, what’s yours stays yours. With the exception of Lambecrete (Pty) Ltd.”

“Right.” She nodded. “Where do I sign?”

She looked up in time to see that familiar little frown marring his forehead again.

“You should read it first,” he said, his voice flat with censure. She imagined it offended his lawyerly sensibilities that she didn’t bother to read the document.

“What’s mine is mine, what’s yours stays yours?” she repeated and he nodded, the frown deepening. “That’s good enough for me.”

“Fern, come on…”

“How long is this drive?”

“Another ten minutes, max.”

“I couldn’t read this in an hour, much less ten minutes.” She leaned toward him to nab the heavy pen from his grip and flipped to the last page, where she found a blue sticky tab next to her name. She signed with a flourish and initialed all the required spots, pausing to read those at least—pretty standard stuff really—before handing the contract back to him.

He sighed, sounding aggrieved, while his father looked on with what appeared to be amusement.

“Dad? Witness?”

His father nodded and took the contract from him, using his own expensive platinum pen to sign.

“What are those?” she asked, lifting his pen to point to the other papers in Cade’s massive hand.

“The transfer of Lambecrete to Hawthorne Construction &Engineering. Pending completion of our exchange of marital vows.”

“Gimme,” she said, holding her hand palm up and opening and closing her hand in a grabby motion. “C’mon.”

“You’re sure?”

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