Page 17 of Dirty Husband
"You're okay with them having this information?"
"It won't be so specific." I smooth my slacks. Let the back of my hand brush her thigh.
"How"—she sucks in a deep breath—"specific will it be?"
"A standard prenup. After one year of marriage, you get a million dollars. With an extra million every year. Until we hit ten and you get a quarter of everything I've gained in the decade."
"Is that supposed to be some sort of bribe?"
"Insurance." I rest my hand on her thigh.
Her legs part. Her eyes follow. She stares at my hand like she's begging it to move forward, but she says nothing. "What for?"
"Insurance isn't for any purpose."
Her eyes find mine. "I need another clause."
I nodgo on.
"You have to stay sober. Or I get the ten million."
"Okay."
"Okay? That's it?" Her voice says everything.Why wouldn't you do this for me?
"Do you need more?"
"No. Ten million will be enough."
"I have my own clause," I say.
She holds my gaze.
"No cheating."
"I'd never—"
"Even so," I say.
"For you too. And I want more for that." Anger seeps into her voice. She tries to stay calm. To use that awful, fake assistant tone. But she doesn't quite manage it. "Twenty million."
I almost smile. "Twenty million." I hold out my hand.
"That's it? I can marry you next week, send a sex worker your way, walk home with twenty million dollars?"
"If you think that will work, go ahead."
Her eyes stay glued to mine. "Are you going to tell me why?"
"No."
"What if I make that non-negotiable?"
"You won't." I stare back at her. This is it. We're almost there. I just have to push her a little further. I pull out my cell. Tap out an email. Place the phone in her palm.
Her eyes go wide as she reads the email. "You'll really—"
"I can do it right now, Jasmine. I can erase every problem in your life. All you need to do is say yes. Say you'll marry me."
