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When I arrived at my new residence for the first time, my clothes were already arranged inside the main wardrobe. I hadn’t noticed before that there actually were two interconnected rooms for his and hers closets. My side looks pathetically empty.
I’m not sure if it was the housekeeper’s initiative or Gio’s request, but it appeared I was expected to stay in the master bedroom. The idea filled me with dread. A cruel joke.
There is no way I’d sleep in the bed that used to hold thrilling memories, and now represented only the bitter void of the current state of our relationship. A bond forged on paper only.
I kept my clothes in the master bedroom, but I moved into the guest room. I’m a guest here, after all. Nothing more. Soon to be Cassinetti by name, but nothing else.
I get dressed before the stylist arrives. I’ve worked with her at several events, and I know she’ll deliver what I need.
An hour later, I check myself in the mirror by the front entrance. My face glows with natural makeup, and my hair appears carelessly arranged in waves, definitely a model-worthy mane.
Along with the red dress, this makeover boosts my confidence.
As I leave my house, I feel energized, confident and gorgeous, and for the first time in weeks I’m genuinely smiling.
Even in late February, New York glimmers with sunshine as the early unexpected spring sweeps through the streets.
New beginning.
Chapter25
Mila
My smile dies as soon as Gio’s lawyer greets me. I wish I didn’t have this appointment on my way to meet him, but Fatima couldn’t squeeze me in at another time.
“Nice to see you again, Ms. Ward.” She looks me up and down. “You look… different.”
Now I regret the timing of our meeting even more. The first time we met, I was… me. Now I’m dolled up and dressed to the nines, only validating my motivations behind this marriage. Damn it.
Her office is a corner suite, furnished with efficiency and a lack of personal touches. She offers me a seat on a chair that screams custom-made art, but lacks in the comfort and ergonomic departments. Not that I could feel comfortable given the topic of this meeting.
I adjust my skirt as she studies me. She looks like she is not sure if I’m her current appointment. Somewhat puzzled and slightly uncomfortable.Well, Fatima, that makes two of us.
Without a word, she pushes a folder in front of me. A bright yellow folder. By now, I’m willing to make an animal sacrifice to stop these from appearing. My life has been ruled by these fucking yellow folders.
It’s official. I’m stupid and naïve because part of me believed Gio would be here today. Just like the first time when he stayed and made me feel protected from the lawyer and the legalities of his damn scheme, I was expecting—hoping—he’d show up again.
I sigh and flip the front page. “Where do I sign?”
Fatima’s eyes widen. Just a split-second reaction that proves she expected me to be surprised. She knew Gio would suggest something like this—and he did—but she didn’t anticipate my full collaboration.
“Ms. Ward, as a lawyer I’m representing my client’s interests. But woman to woman, I can’t help but recommend your lawyer review this before you sign.”
“Why? Are there red flags?” I shouldn’t be this oblivious to a contract with my future husband, but I’ve been numbed to the world for too many days now to muster any interest.
“Not necessarily, but this contract is the most unusual prenup I’ve heard of. Have you discussed the terms with Gio?”
Yes, that’s the only conversation he’s had with me. Via email. I know what I’m signing, but I read anyway.
Upon marrying Gio Cassinetti, I’ll become a sole owner of the event company he bought, Annie will get a new house, and Gio will foot the bill for her medical care and the kids’ education for the duration of our marriage. This much I agreed to.
If I choose to divorce him within five years—what?—he will no longer have financial obligations to my family and the firm will automatically return to his holding. My marital duties include attendance at all of Gio’s social engagements, with a right to refuse once a month.
After five years, if we divorce, I get five million dollars. Every stipulation is like a scalpel through my heart. If in five years we remain married, I’m expected to provide an heir.
Tears prickle behind my eyes. “Where do I sign?”
I’ve been second-guessing my decision for many sleepless nights. The look on Gio’s face in that stupid car, the disapproval and disappointment. I don’t understand why he went through with it. His reaction makes no sense. He proposed the arrangement. But once I accepted, he seems hurt.
