Page 42 of Sinful Abandon

“Maybe you should make it a part of the prenup,” I mumble.

“That’s not a bad idea,” he says.

I snap out of my stupor.

“I’ll call my attorney and have it added. Here, take a look.”

I take the document from Jarrod’s hand and skim the text. If I am caught cheating or stealing from him, I will be cut loose without a penny. If I publicly embarrass him in a way that leads to social or legal retribution, then I’ll walk away with half a million dollars, but I’ll lose that if I void the attached nondisclosure agreement. If I can’t bear children, I’ll get a million as a peace offering. And should Jarrod decide the marriage has come to an end, I will accept the divorce without contest, and I will receive two million dollars for my time.

Jarrod said he didn’t plan to divorce, but if he did, the money I’d walk away with is staggering. Yes, while this might seem like a reward for marrying someone I don’t love, it’s actually a punishment. It’s as if Jarrod has already planned on me screwing up his life in some way. And, if I don’t, he has a plan should he just be done with me.

It’s degrading. Yes, I only wanted to marry him for his money, but I was still planning on being a good wife, on working hard and supporting him, as any wife would.

“You’re no better than he is,” I say, my head spinning with comparisons between Jarrod and my father.

“Than who?” He leans back in his chair, curiosity written all over his face.

“My father.” I back away, taking a step toward the door.

“You have a father?” He seems genuinely surprised.

I’ve never spoken of my parents to him. He probably assumed they were dead.

I take another step back, closer to the door.

Jarrod sees my steps. His brows dramatically curve in. “Where are you going, love?”

“If I marry, it will be to someone who is crazy about me and who I am absolutely, without a doubt, crazy over.” I open the door and step into the doorway.

Jarrod is on his feet. “What the hell are you talking about? Heather, is there someone else?”

I look down for a moment and grin to myself. “There is. And he is way too young and probably comes with college loans.” I lift my head and smile so bright at Jarrod that he probably thinks I’ve lost my mind.

“College?” His eyes are bulging out of his head. “Have you gone mad?”

“Yes, I think I have.”

Closing the door behind me, I run down the hallway and toward the newsroom. I look for Ryan. His intern desk is neat, looking untouched for the day. I spin around the room but don’t see him.

He’s not in the conference room or the break room. Hell, he’s not even in the copy room.

“Meg”—I surprise her with my rushed appearance—“have you seen Ryan?”

She peers up from her red rims. “You mean, the intern?”

I enthusiastically nod my head.

“He quit,” she says.

My stomach drops.

“Gave his notice in an email this morning. You didn’t see the memo?”

No, I didn’t. But it doesn’t matter.

“Cancel all my appointments,” I say, rushing down the hallway toward the elevator.

Meg peeks her head out of the doorframe, shouting toward me, “Where are you going?”