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She saw the clerk reach for the phone as she started toward the elevator. He was probably phoning Cole to tell him she was on her way. On her way, she thought, like a ritual sacrifice to the altar.
The elevator was old and slow. That was fine. She was in no rush to see Cole or to deal with what lay ahead. If it lay ahead. She'd had time to think, on the drive back from Atlanta. Elmore Bookman had confirmed what she'd already suspected. Cole couldn't get Peter from her. He could only tie the both of them up in an endless legal knot. Increasingly, she doubted if he really intended to go ahead with what he'd threatened.
A man wouldn't deliberately marry a woman he despised. If he did, though, her insurance lay inside the shoulder bag swinging against her hip with every stride.
A small brass plaque pointed the way to the Lakeside Suite. Faith started down the corridor, past a wall of mirrored glass panels that reflected her image in seemingly infinite number. Nervously, she smoothed down the skirt of her white cotton dress.
I should have worn jeans, she thought, just to show Cole how little I think of this meeting... and then the door at the end of the corridor swung open and she saw him waiting, and her heart almost stopped because he was-there was no other word for it-he was magnificent.
No finely tailored suit. Not today. Cole wore chinos, a navy cotton shirt with the collar open and the sleeves rolled up. He was incredibly handsome and dangerously masculine, and in that one instant Faith knew that she had never stopped wanting him, that in some dark, terrifying way she couldn't begin to comprehend, a woman might want a man and despise him at the same time.
She came to a halt, her pulse hammering so loudly that she half expected he could hear it, too.
"Faith." His voice was low-pitched, rough around the edges. There was a dangerous glitter in his eyes, a tension around his mouth as he stepped forward. She wanted to turn and run, but she couldn't. He thought he had her right where he wanted her and the last thing she could afford to do was show him any weakness. It was bad enough she'd melted under his kisses last night, but it would not happen again. Her body had betrayed her with this man nine years ago and that betrayal had changed her life, forever.
"Cole," she said, pleased with how calm she sounded. She smiled politely and continued toward him. He stepped aside and she took what felt like a final breath before she moved past him into the suite and the door swung shut after her.
He gestured toward a blue silk sofa flanked by a pair of matching chairs. Faith ignored the sofa and took one of the chairs. Cole leaned against the balcony door, his feet crossed at the ankles, his hands tucked into his pockets. He stood so close to her that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. It was vaguely discomforting and she suspected he knew it.
"How is Peter?"
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. "He's fine."
"You haven't told him our plans, have you?"
Her spirits lifted. That sounded hopeful, as if he was going to admit he'd only been bluffing. "No," she said, "no, I haven't."
"Good. I prefer breaking the news to him myself." "Then-then, you're really going to-to-"
"To force you into this marriage?" He smiled coolly.
"That's how you see it, don't you, Faith?"
"You gave me an ultimatum. You told me what you'd do if I didn't agree. How would you see it?"
Cole sat down on the sofa, took a handful of papers from the coffee table and held them toward her. "I'd call it an opportunity," he said. "Perhaps you'll agree, once you've read this."
Her hand shook as she took the papers from him. Stop, she thought furiously. She could feel Cole's eyes on her as she tried to read the words on the top of the first page but she was too upset to see them as anything but an incomprehensible jumble of symbols.
"It's a prenuptial agreement," he said.
She looked up, caught by the purr of anticipation in his voice. He was smiling, though his eyes still held a dangerous gleam.
"Of course," she answered, as if men handed her such things every day of her life. She looked down again and began to read.
Cole had thought of everything. Her life had been planned in meticulous detail, legal paragraph after legal paragraph. She'd expected a prenup that would detail what she wasn't entitled to, but this one began with the things he would provide her.
Clothes. Jewelry. All her personal needs to be charged to his various accounts. Additional accounts, if she required them, to be opened in his name. So many dollars per month to be paid into a checking account, the sums to be reconciled by his accountants every three months. He must have seen her pause at that because he said, pleasantly, that surely she could understand the requirement.
