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Four
Gabriel
After battlingit out with the lawyers for the past week, the terms have come together for my marriage with Clementine—ten million dollars given after the wedding date, and a fund for more money to be deposited over the course of a year.
Our marriage only has to last a year, a loophole my lawyers found. I’m sure grandfather would have liked for the two of us to remain married indefinitely as his cruel parting joke.
I never understood my grandfather’s eccentric ways, and I don’t care to study the man after his death. I just want to make sure nothing happens to my company. To my kingdom. I have big projects on the horizon and an expansion to occupy my time.
So, I’ll marry Clementine for a year, and not a day longer, and then I no longer have to worry about a thing.
Easy.
There’s a few stipulations as with any marriage, and once Clementine arrives, I can go over the details of the arrangement with her.
“Your one o’clock is here, sir,” Kurt, my assistant, informs me through the intercom in the study.
“Send her in,” I tell him.
A few seconds later, the hand-carved wooden doors open, allowing Clementine to enter the study with me.
Her eyes take everything in, from the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, to the stained-glass window in the center of the far wall, to me, standing in front of my oak desk.
“It’s a great room, isn’t it?” I watch her as she runs a finger over the bookshelf closest to the door.
“It is.” Her eyes light up. “Oh wow, you have Jane Austen. I didn’t think men like the Princes would read her.”
I cross the hardwoods to stand by her. “They’re first editions.”
She turns to stare at me. “I’m impressed.”
“Do books impress you, Clementine?”
“Well, I do like to read.”
“Then let me show you around. I can show you the library.”
She crosses her arms. “No, that’s ok. Let’s just get this over with.”
I lean against the bookshelf. “You don’t want to see where we’ll be living?”
“We’ll be staying here?”
“Yes, I don’t have a home here for your job and Tennyson’s school.” I give her a small smile. “Unless, you’d like to commute in a private jet.”
“Why don’t you live wherever and I’ll live in my own home?”
“Funny.” I push off the shelf and lead her out of the study. “Believe me, if we could do that, I would.”
She follows behind me without a sound.
“This is the library,” I say, opening another set of doors further down the tiled hallway, and ushering her into the room.
“Holy crap.” She makes a complete three-sixty degree turn in the room, gazing at all the books with wide eyes. “I think I’ll be spending most of my free time here.”
An unexpected sense of pride bursts through my chest that I’m able to give my future wife something she’ll enjoy. And the fact it’s warming up my entire body leaves me dumbfounded. I’ve never cared before about making anyone happy.
Except, my mother, before she died.
