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She frowned at the papers he offered. "It's a contract of sale on my flat." Emotions whirled up inside her, regret warring with relief. "You work fast," she murmured.
"It's a very decent offer." He tucked her hair behind her ear.
"Are you sure it's what you want?"
"It's the way it is. Reality doesn't always chew well, but I'm trying to acquire a taste." She closed her eyes and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Just let me feel sorry for myself a minute."
"You're entitled."
"Self-pity's a bad habit of mine. It's hard to shake. Damn it, Josh, I loved that place. Sometimes I'd just stand on the terrace and think: Look where you are, Margo. Look who you are."
"Well, now you're someplace else." It wasn't sympathy she needed, he decided, but a good boot in the butt. "And you look the same to me."
"It's not the same. It's never going to be the same again."
"Toughen up, Margo. You're starting to wallow in it."
She jerked up. "Easy for you to say. Joshua Conway Templeton, the bright star of the Templeton empire. You never lost anything. You never groped your way sweating to get a grip on something everyone told you you couldn't have. No one ever told you you couldn't have anything and everything you wanted."
"That's the breaks, isn't it?" he said easily. "You played, duchess, and you lost. Whining about it isn't going to change a thing, and it's very unattractive."
"Thanks so much for your support." Fuming, she snatched the contract out of his hand. "When do I get the money?"
"There's time, and there's Italian time. If you're lucky, you may have it settled in sixty days. The bottom line's on the next page."
He watched her flip it over. Her eyes were hot as they skimmed down, the heat clouded with distress. "That's it?"
"You didn't have a lot of equity built up. The bank gets theirs first, then the government takes its share."
"It's better than a stick in the eye," she muttered. "Barely."
"I drew on your account to square your American Express bill. I don't suppose it occurred to you to fly back here coach." When she only stared coolly, he shook his head. "I don't know why I said that. You're back under the max on your Visa card, but I'd go easy on it. After you distribute the net from the sale of the flat, you'll only be about a hundred and fifty thousand in the hole, excluding interest and penalties."
"Pin money," she said dryly.
"You shouldn't plan on buying any pins for a while. Now, as your representative, I'm willing to clear your debts, and assist you in dealing with any you incur while initiating your business. You got a name for this place yet?"
"Pretenses," she said between her teeth as he flipped out more papers.
"Perfect. I've drawn up the necessary agreements."
"Have you?" she said slowly. "In triplicate?"
Warned by the tone, he looked up, met her icy stare equally. "Naturally."
"And just what would I be agreeing to, Counselor Templeton?"
"To pay back this personal loan in regular installments beginning six months after the date of signing. That gives you some breathing space. You also agree to live within your means during the term of the loan."
"I see. And what are my means, in your legal opinion?"
"I've worked up a budget for personal expenses. Food, lodging, medical."
"A budget?"
He'd expected an explosion. Even, perversely, hoped for one. Margo's tantrums were always so… stimulating. It didn't appear that he was going to be disappointed.
"A budget?" she repeated, storming to him. "Of all the unbelievable, bloody nerve. You arrogant son of a bitch. Do you think I'm going to stand here and let you treat me like some sort of brainless bimbo who needs to be told how much she can spend on face powder?"
