Incoming call: Mayle
“Hey, Mayle, thanks for getting back to me.” Mayle has been my lawyer since the day I made my first million—aka the day I realized having money is great until someone tries to take it and you don’t know how to stop them.
She’s saved my ass more times than I can count,and I probably owe her a quarter of my money because of that. I wish I could put her on my payroll now, but I know she wouldn’t want to work under a family-dynasty-type company. “Of course,” she says. “Did you read the prenup?”
“Yes. There’s only one tiny detail I want to fix.” She stayed quiet for a bit. “What tiny detail, Theodore?” She only says my full name when she’s mocking me. Or when she’s about to tell me I’m being an idiot. Both are possible here. “I need to add a clause.”
“What clause?” Sam is going to kill me for this. Kill me, resurrect me just to yell at me again, and then kill me a second time.
“That she needs to cash her trust fund before we get married,” I say. “And that none of that money is allowed anywhere near Hayes International or me.” There’s silence, then a laugh. “She’s going to kill you.”
“Well aware.”
“I’ll work on it,” She says, still amused. “Thanks, Mayle.”
“Always. I’ll send the revised draft soon.” She hangs up, and the office goes quiet, too quiet. My brain fills the silence with a thousand thoughts, none of them helpful. Sam is young. She still has time to grow, to change, and to chase things she hasn’t even dreamed up yet. Me? I’ve already lived ten lifetimes in a decade. I’ve built empires, crashed a few, learned every lessonthe hard way. She, on the other hand, is still in the part of life where she discovers who she wants to be. And I’m asking her to anchor herself to me.
She loves me—stupidly, recklessly, beautifully. I know that.
She’s in this with both feet. But the last thing I want is for loving me to cost her anything, or in this case, everything. I don’t want her to ever wake up one day and think I rushed her into a life she wasn’t finished choosing.
I blow out a breath, louder than necessary. I don’t want to fuck this up.
My phone pings and yanks me out of my spiral. And when I see the messages, I can’t help but laugh,reallylaugh.
Sam: Im hvkf so mhc funnnnn!
Sam: havkl so mjhd*
Sam: having so much fun*
She’s adorable. And so goddamn sexy even when she forgets how consonants work.
Me: You are clearly hvkf so mhc fun.
Three dots appear, they vanish, and then they return. Like she’s waging war with her thumbs.
Sam: Dont bully me 1A
Me: Never, Mrs. Jones.
I barely get the message sent before she fires back.
Sam: SOON TO BE YOURS!!!!!
My whole body reacts like she just whispered it into my ear while climbing onto my lap.
Fuck, I love this woman. And I’m going to make her my wife.
Me: Keep texting me like that, and I’ll go pick you up.
Me: And I’ll remind you exactly what happens when you call yourself mine.
There’s a long pause. Suspiciously long pause. Then…
Sam: is that a promise or a threeot
Sam: thrat*
