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“Is that it, then? Or do you want me to sponsor another one of your friend’s careers too?”
There’s a dryness in his tone I haven’t heard before. But then, this might be the first conversation we’ve ever had where he isn’t speaking in monosyllables. “No, that’s all.”
“Then that’s it. Congratulations, Miss Myers. You’re about to get married. I’ll have my lawyers send you documents to read. Pre-nup and standard clauses.” He opens the dossier on his lap again, dismissing me. “Make the arrangements. You know my schedule.”
I let go of the chair. “I do. Should I coordinate with your lawyers for the marriage license as well?”
“Yes.”
“Irving or Hardmann?”
“Irving.” He closes the dossier with a smack and reaches for his coffee. “Send my eight a.m. in directly when he arrives.”
“Yes, sir. Will do.” Just like that, I’ve agreed to marry my boss. “Courthouse?”
He’s returned to his work, eyes on his screen. “Yes. Book a time midday, if you can. I want to avoid traffic.”
“All right.”
My cheeks are still flushed when Mason arrives. He stops in front of my desk, and his smile fades as he sees my pinched expression. “Hey, Cecilia. Everything okay? You didn’t get fired, did you?”
I give a half-laugh. “No. Not exactly.”
No, I have a wedding to plan.
My own.
4
Victor
My hand tightens around the phone. “Yes. I’m sure.”
Irving takes a deep breath on the other line. “Mr. St. Clair, large portions of this contract are unenforceable in court.”
“I realize that.”
“The deal you’re making here is… well, beyond the scope of the law.”
That’s a fine way to put it. Paying someone to marry you isn’t illegal, but it’s not covered by standard clauses.
“I’m aware,” I say. “But I want it written up. Make it look legal.”
“Sir, I—”
“I’m not deceiving Miss Myers. She is well aware of what she’s agreed to. The point of the contract is to ensure we both uphold our ends.”
“Right. Yes.”
“It’s between two individuals,” I say. “Phrase it like I’m giving her a gift of one hundred thousand dollars. Half at one date, the other half at the end of the year. Don’t mention the marriage.”
“I’ll do as you say,” Irving says. Another pause on the phone, and I look up at the ceiling. He’ll say something now, like he always does, that I’ll have to dismiss.
He’s a good family lawyer. One of the best in the city. He’d been my father’s once, as well as my grandfather’s. No doubt he was one of the lawyers consulted on the ironclad marriage requirement in the will.
But he couldn’t help sharing his opinions on things that had nothing to do with the law.
“I spoke to the lady in question,” he says, and there it is. The censure in his tone. “She’s a responsible, motivated young woman. I think you’ve chosen well, St. Clair.”
