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She turned, and he saw the tell-tale way her eyes widened on him before she shuttered her expression.
‘Yes. I’m back.’ She struck a pose with her hand on her hip. ‘The new improved me—like it?’
Lazaro wasn’t sure he did at all, and that revelation was very disconcerting. He felt like mussing her up...putting his hands in her hair to bring back its unruliness. He lamented the fact that make-up was hiding the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.
But as she stood before him now there was no denying what had been hiding in plain sight under her tomboyish uniform.
He said, with a rough tone in his voice that he couldn’t hide, ‘You’re beautiful.’
* * *
Instead of feeling pleased with the compliment, Skye wished she hadn’t opened her mouth. She felt deflated that he liked her like this. Because she didn’t feel like herself. And yet Lazaro approved of this version of her, if his obvious approval was anything to go by.
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sp; He said, ‘I’ve got a copy of the pre-nuptial agreement in my office, if you want to come and look it over?’
‘Oh.’
Lazaro’s mouth quirked and Skye fought not to scowl at him. She followed him into his office.
‘Please, sit,’ he said. ‘Do you want something to drink?’
Skye sat down, seriously intimidated by the thick document she saw. ‘Um...just some water, please.’
She pulled the papers towards her and started skimming over the words.
Agreement between the parties... Skye Blossom O’Hara... Lazaro Sanchez...to agree to be married for a minimum of five years...or until such time as they mutually agree to part...
There was a section on matters pertaining to the baby, how custody would be agreed in the event of a divorce. And there was another section on money. Skye’s jaw dropped.
Lazaro, who was pacing near the window, stopped. ‘What is it?’
Skye pointed at the page where there was an amount listed—an annuity for her when they divorced, and if she remained faithful during the marriage.
Lazaro came closer and looked down. He stepped back, a strange look coming over his face. ‘What? It’s not enough?’
Skye sputtered, ‘It’s ridiculous!’
Lazaro’s expression turned hard. ‘It didn’t take long for your true colours to emerge.’
Skye stood up, outraged. ‘Not because it’s too little! It’s too much! It’s about as much as the national debt for a small country. It’s obscene. Do you have any idea what most mortals survive on in a week, a year?’
Lazaro fought back the cynicism which told him she was lying. She had to be. He gritted out, ‘Of course I know what most people survive on. I survived on a lot less myself for years.’
She immediately looked contrite. ‘I forgot...sorry.’
‘It’s because I know how hard and undignified it is to live on nothing that I’ve vowed never to be in that position again—and as the mother of my child, you certainly won’t be.’
‘Okay,’ she said, sitting down again. ‘I get that. But this is too much. I can survive on a fraction of that. And it’s not my money. I’d feel weird living off you.’
‘It’s not just you, though—it’s you and my child.’
Suddenly Skye felt sad to think of a time when it would just be her and the child now inside her, getting on with their lives while Lazaro dipped in and out. But he was so busy, so in demand, how could it be any other way?
‘Still, once a child is clothed and fed and educated, it really doesn’t need much else. It’s too much.’
After a long moment he conceded. ‘Okay, we can renegotiate that bit. Is there anything else? You should really have a solicitor look it over. I can recommend someone impartial.’
