“I’ll negotiate the best deal I can for you.”
With a small smile to Warren, I pull out my phone and text my biggest supporter.
Bethany:
Tell me I’m doing the right thing here.
A moment passes before a text comes through.
Oliver:
Do you want the truth, or do you want me to validate you?
A smirk rises across my face at his attempt to mildly distract me.
Bethany:
The truth. You know I can’t get enough of you riding my ass.
My eyes widen after the text is sent, and I realize how that would sound. I press my hand to my cheek, feeling the skin heat up from embarrassment.
Bethany:
Get your mind out of the gutter. I didn't mean it like that.
Oliver:
Are you sure? I’m up for riding your ass. I’m eager to try out a few new positions.
My cheeks clench, and my emotional high from talking to him soars.
Oliver:
You’re doing what you can. I don’t want you to do it. I want you to live your life the way you choose, not having to obey the commands of assholes like Nolan. I want you to be true to yourself, but we all know there is no other way to get Nigel out of there. If it’s worth it to you, that’s all that matters.
Oliver:
I trust whatever choice you make. If you choose to do this, I’ve got your back, and eventually, so will Nigel.
My chest swells with gratitude and love from how well he knows me and how Oliver knows what I need to hear to make it through this meeting.
The door behind me slides open, and my neck swivels to watch as Nolan and who I can only assume is his lawyer–a man only a few years older than me in a suit way too big for his lanky frame–strolls into the room like they own the world and we are merely an inconvenience.
I barely hold in the vomit rising up my throat from seeing them, or maybe that’s just morning sickness. Fuck if I know. They feel the same to me.
“Good morning, Miss Mercer, Mr. Conway,” the attorney mutters as they sit across from us, and the lawyer holds a single file folder in his hands, plopping it down on the desk.
“Mr. Gray, Mr. Strong,” Warren responds before sitting up in his chair, back straightening to convey power. “I see you’ve gone through my client’s demands of the agreement. My notes were thorough, and I want you to know we will not budge on a single one. Your client is asking a lot of her, and she deserves way more than the initial contract stated–”
“I know your whole spiel, Warren, but your client came to my client of her own free will. She can walk away at any time. She asked my client for a favor. Your additions to this agreement are absolute–” Nolan cuts off his attorney.
“Shut your pie hole, Mr. Strong,” he mutters with amusement. “I’m fine with Miss Mercer’s demands with the exception of one, which I would like an answer as to why before I agree to it.”
The room falls silent as Nolan looks directly at me. His sapphire eyes study me like it’s a sport to him.
“What condition is that?” I ask, my voice meeker than I intended.
With a grin in place, he questions, “Why do you want me to hand over my entire fortune, my entire life’s work, and my father’s work to the heathens that run about unchecked in this town if I don’t keep up my end of the deal? What is the point?”