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Standing, she pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slipped them on.
“Don’t believe the gossip, Jeff. There were rumors about you and me a couple years ago that weren’t true, or don’t you remember.”
Jeff shrugged. “Maybe they weren’t true, but I wish they were.”
Rylee tried to keep her expression neutral as she grabbed her bag and backed away.
“Good luck today, Jeff. Perhaps we’ll meet at the end.”
As she walked away from Jeff, her stomach felt as if it were tied in knots. She tried to blame it on the alcohol from the night before, but knew it was from nerves.
When it was time to take her place at the first table, she did her best to put Memphis, Andrew, and everything else out of her mind. All that mattered were the cards on the table in front of her. But it wasn’t that easy. After fumbling three hands in a row, she knew the day wasn’t going to go as planned.
After a break, she got her head in the game and focused. By lunch, the tournament was down to five tables from the original fifteen it started with.
Rylee pushed away from the table for her lunch break and was immediately flanked by two of the security team she knew had been lurking nearby.
“What would you like to do for lunch, Miss Colton?”
Rylee looked at her phone intent on checking the time. But the screen showed a missed call from Memphis.
“Excuse me,” she said to the men before stepping toward a back corner of the room as she lifted the phone to her ear.
“Rylee?” A foreign voice met her, and she wrinkled her brow.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“It’s Jeremy, Memphis’ lawyer. Sorry to confuse you. I’m calling to see if I can messenger over some paperwork to have you look over.”
Rylee fingered out some tangles in her ponytail. “I suppose that’s fine. I’m kind of in the middle of a tournament. Can it wait until I get home?”
“The messenger is ten minutes away. I know you’re at lunch.”
Rylee sighed. “Fine. I’ll look it over while I eat. What’s this about?”
Jeremy chuckled. “Just comes with the territory of dating a rich guy. Gotta make sure you’re not a gold digger.”
Rylee’s face heated with anger. But before she could say anything he continued. “Not that I think you are. That was a poor joke. The paperwork is just stuff to get you onto Memphis’ financials. It’s all very dry, but I’m here to answer questions if you have any.”
Rylee blew out a breath and tried to stifle her anger. “OK. I’ll look at it when I can, but I don’t have long for lunch.”
Less than ten minutes later, her security was accepting a thick envelope from a messenger while she got settled at a table in the convention center food court.
As she ate her salad, she flipped through the first few pages and tried not to let her eyes glaze over. If these were documents Memphis needed her to sign, she wanted to understand them. After all, the documents he had her sign previously turned out to be more than what she realized, and she’d become the owner of a house.
Most of it dealt with giving her access to Memphis’ bank accounts and issuing her credit cards attached to those accounts.
Not that she wanted his money, but she had a feeling Memphis would insist. The next form was an asset disclosure form. Memphis had already filled in one section of it, and the other was hers to fill out. That would be easy. She owned a car, and that was about it.
Figuring she could deal with that later, she flipped through the rest of the forms as she shoved the salad aside and reached for the package of cookies she’d bought.
Her hand hovered over the plastic wrapped treats as her eyes scanned the document. It was a preliminary draft of a potential prenuptial agreement.
“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, forgetting the cookies. He hadn’t even proposed yet, and he wanted her to sign a damn prenup? Or was this his way of asking her to marry him? If it was, they were going to have words. She might not be mushy and gushy, but she damn well deserved a better proposal than being served a prenup.
She pulled out her phone to call him but stopped when her stomach turned to knots again. Her face grew warm, and she felt shaky for a moment. Then her stomach lurched. Fuck, she was going to throw up. Her eyes darted around the food court, looking for a restroom sign. When she spotted it, she jumped up and made a dash for the door to the women’s room.
She barely made it to a stall before the contents of her stomach came up. Apparently, Memphis’ hangover cure hadn’t worked as well as she’d hoped. When she was sure her stomach was empty, she flushed the toilet and moved to the bathroom sink to wash her face. Her hands trembled as she waved them under the automatic soap dispenser, but she managed to finish the task.
