Page 18 of Arranged with Twins
She nods firmly. “No, I’m not. That’s not the only reason I’m angry though.” She turns to face me fully, and I see the frustration that’s been building for weeks finally reaching its breaking point. “She’s making decisions about my life without my input, just like always. Now you’re here with moredocuments for me to sign, and more changes to my life that I apparently have no say in.”
I glance at my briefcase, which does indeed contain the papers I came here to discuss. They’re standard business integration documents that require her signature, security protocols that need her agreement, and practical matters that can’t be delayed indefinitely. I mentioned why I was stopping by, and apparently, it’s become an issue entangled with her anger at her mother. I’m sympathetic but firm. “Some things can’t be negotiated, Sienna. The security arrangements especially.”
“Can’t be negotiated, or you’ve decided they can’t be?” She crosses her arms, and I recognize the defensive posture that precedes her most stubborn moments. “What exactly are you planning to change about my life this time?”
I retrieve the documents from my briefcase, spreading them across her kitchen island. “These formalize the business integration between our families. You’ll need to sign agreements that provide access to certain Cooper assets as part of the marriage contract.”
Her expression darkens as she scans the first page. “Access to what assets?”
“Trust fund distributions, property shares, and investment account oversight. Standard merger protocols.” I keep my voice level and professional. “Nothing that affects your personal finances, yet it creates legal pathways for the business relationship.” I don’t tell her that it also cuts off Vincent from managing her trust fund from her grandparents and other assets that won’t be released to her until she’s thirty—or wouldn’t if we weren’t getting married.
He’s getting desperate enough that I don’t trust him with that responsibility. In theory, I’ll bail him out when the wedding is over, and he won’t get into trouble again. In practice, there’s no sense giving him millions of dollars to tempt him when he’s already shown he regards Sienna as someone to aid him, not as a daughter to protect.
Her eyes narrow, and her voice gets tight. “Legal pathways for you to control Cooper family resources, you mean.”
I let out a ragged breath, clinging to my patience. “These actions protect both our interests. Your father’s financial situation is more precarious than he’s admitted, Sienna. These agreements ensure stability.”
She flips through several pages, her jaw growing harder with each clause she reads. “What does ‘enhanced protection services’ mean?”
I take a bracing breath, certain she’s not going to be happy about this. “You have to have a security detail. They’ll be discreet professionals, who will monitor your movements and ensure your safety.”
“Monitor my movements.” Her voice goes dangerously quiet. “You mean follow me around, reporting back to you? Is it so I don’tembarrassyou?”
The words are loaded with meaning. I’m clearly getting blowback anger that’s rightfully Katherine’s. I strive to sound calm and logical. “I mean protect you. The threats to me are real, and you’re a target as my wife or fiancée. You must have protection.”
“Without asking me.” She throws her hands in the air in clear frustration. “Without discussing it, you just decided to assignbodyguards to watch my every move. Is it really that dangerous to be associated with you?”
“Yes.” I don’t see any point in softening the truth. “It is, and you don’t get to argue because your safety isn’t negotiable.” I decide honesty is best. “They’ve been watching you since the engagement party.”
Sienna stares at me for a long moment, and multiple emotions war for supremacy. Anger, frustration, and something that might be hurt flash across her face before her expression goes blank. “Do you understand what you’re doing?” she asks quietly. “You’re treating me exactly like everyone else does. Like a problem to be managed, a liability to be controlled, or a possession to be protected rather than a person with her own judgment.”
“That’s not?—”
“It is exactly that.” Her voice rises. “You never asked what security I’d be comfortable with. You never discussed the business agreements before having them drawn up. You just made decisions and came here to inform me of them.”
The accusation stings because it’s accurate. I did make these decisions unilaterally, based on my assessment of what’s necessary to keep her safe and our arrangement stable. I have a better grasp of the facts than she does, and I chose to act efficiently. “In my world, hesitation gets people killed. I made the choices that ensure your protection.”
“In your world,” she repeats. “Not our world. These aren’t decisions we made together. They’re choices you made for me, just like Mother made the choice about what ring I should wear.”
The comparison to her mother makes me wince. “That’s completely different.”
“Is it? You both decided what’s best for me without consulting me. You both presented your decisions as non-negotiable facts. The only difference is that your control comes with better security.”
I set down the papers and look at her directly. “If this were a real relationship, I still wouldn’t consult you about security decisions. Protection isn’t a democracy, Sienna. It’s about survival.”
“If this were a real relationship,” she says, her voice getting sharper, “You might care about my feelings on the subject. You might treat me like a partner instead of an asset you’ve acquired.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“No, you’re trying to keep me controlled. There’s a difference.” She picks up Katherine’s note again, waving it between us. “This is what you both do. You make decisions that affect my life, then tell me I should be grateful for your protection or guidance or whatever you want to call it.”
My own temper starts to fray as her anger builds. “Your mother sent you a ring to manipulate appearances. I’m trying to prevent you from being kidnapped or killed. If you can’t see the difference?—”
“The difference is in the motivation, not the method. You’re both controlling my choices without my consent.” She almost shouts those words.
“Some choices are too dangerous to leave to someone who doesn’t understand the stakes.” I realize I’m perilously close to shouting back. I’m unaccustomed to losing control, but it’s proving difficult to rein in my anger.
“Someone who doesn’t understand?” Her voice goes deadly quiet. “You mean someone like me? Someone naïve and sheltered, who can’t be trusted to make adult decisions?”
