Page 75 of A Convenient Secret
Ever since I made the decision on the terrace downstairs when she suggested her outrageously stupid proposal, there is nothing that can prevent me from moving forward.
I’m aware she’s doing it for money, and I resent her for that. Not enough to stop. I won’t stop anymore. Lily will be mine.
She reads the paperwork, her gaze fixing on some passages and skimming through others. Sometimes she scrunches her nose as if considering. Some paragraphs cause her lips to purse to the side.
She’s hauntingly perfect, like an antique statue, but also too fluid, too real, too breathtaking in her imperfection.
She turns the page and arches her eyebrows, and I itch to round the desk to see what part of the contract she is reading.
The gentle slope of her shoulders moves with every breath. The delicate column of her throat bobs with every swallow.
She could be a timeless masterpiece; only she is alive, shifting, breathing, untamed. I don’t move, afraid to break the spell, and grateful for this moment.
I didn’t expect her to plow through the prenup with such dedication. She does; she studies it with the concentration of a person who understands what they are reading. Fuck, I haven’t even read the fine print.
A new level of respect for her blooms inside me, as if I needed more reasons to admire her. It also makes me question what the hell I am doing. I don’t know who this woman is. Clearly she’s someone who knows she shouldn’t sign a contract without reading it.
Does it even matter? It’s a fake marriage, after all. I trust her with my children, and that will have to do for now.
I’m ashamed to admit I’m surprised she’s this diligent. But the fact that she is… The fact she took off her fake glasses to read it in detail, makes me hard. But then what’s new in her presence?
Finally, she gets to the last page. Her chest moves with a deep breath in and a long breath out before she picks up a pen and leans in. Her hand hovers above the signature line, and I hold my breath.
She hesitates. She is going to do the right thing. I’m fucked. I can’t have her recant now. I don’t have a plan B. I don’t fucking want a plan B. I clench my fists.
Will she take moremoney?
Can I sweeten the deal for her somehow?
What the hell is wrong with me?
The pen connects with the page, and she scribbles her signature. “It’s done.”
A boulder dislodges from my chest. I wait for regret to settle in, but it doesn’t arrive. An unexpected wave of elation sweeps through me, and I grip the armrests to prevent myself from pouncing.
She closes the folder and pushes it toward me. Her eyes dart around the office like she’s not sure what to do next. I’m not sure what to do next. Offer her whiskey? Shake hands?
Probably without thinking, she picks up a spreadsheet I was evaluating before.
She studies it like she knows what it is. I should be concerned with the confidentiality of the information, but I enjoy watching her way more.
As if she caught herself suddenly, she drops the paper. “Sorry… I-I-I don’t know why I picked it up.”
“It’s okay.”
“Is that your client’s?”
“It’s a company our client wants to acquire.”
“Will you report them?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
She leans forward, and now I have a close-up look at her cleavage. Jesus.
She points to a line in the spreadsheet. “Theyreported two separate accounts for operational costs, but the line items are practically identical. Same vendors, same amounts, just shuffled around under different categories.”
How did I miss that? How did she catch it?
