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“You said ‘what we deem appropriate’. By we you mean Amelia. It’s her wedding, after all. Not yours.”
“I’m her mother. I know what she needs.”
I sincerely doubted that.
“Right, and how much do you think Amelia’s needs are going to cost?”
“At least forty million.” She didn’t even blink, asking for that outrageous sum. “My daughter is worth the best, and that is what she shall have. That, of course, does not cover the reimbursement for the last event. That we can settle by a transfer of bonds or even stocks from your portfolio to mine. Say around thirty million.”
“That’s funny. You don’t treat your daughter like she is worth much at all,” I countered. “You sold her to me for a secret. Yet you paid thirty million for a party.”
“Sold her? You have a funny way of defining blackmail.”
She had a point.
“Okay, this is what I’m willing to do. I’ll give my future wife the wedding of her dreams. No expense spared.” I watched the greed seep into her beady little eyes. “But she has to come to me with the bills for everything and tell me what they are. I’ll cover absolutely everything her heart desires. Not yours.”
Her lips pursed as she stood and looked down at me.
“I am her mother—” Her voice dripped with unearned indignation.
“You said that part already,” I interrupted.
“She doesn’t know what she wants. I do. There is also the matter of a proper engagement ring.”
“She has her ring.”
“That simple thing looks like a pauper’s ring.” She spat as she spoke.
I made a mental note to have the cleaner disinfect the rug… or maybe burn it.
“It’s the ring she liked, and it’s a five-carat Tiffany’s ring, with one of the most exquisite diamonds available outside of the royal jewels. I assure you it is not a pauper’s ring.”
I could practically see the dollar signs, like a cartoon character’s, light up her eyes, telling me she’d seen the ring but hadn’t understood its worth.
“I expect Amelia to be wearing my ring and no others every single day.”
“Yes, well. My daughter and I still need to plan the wedding, and the end of next quarter is September. That is far too soon to plan a wedding.”
“Then that is what she can tell me. The second she tells me what kind of wedding she wants, I will hand over my black card. Or better yet…”
I stood, so I was looking down at the harpy. “Why don’t I come with you both and make sure my future wife gets everything she wants? I’m sure it will be a splendid opportunity for us to spend some quality time together.”
Before she could say anything else, my front door opened, and my assistant entered carrying his briefcase while looking over some documents.
“Henry. Good. Can you please make Mrs. Astrid and me some coffee? We were just going over wedding plans.”
“Right away, sir.” Henry didn’t even blink, but I knew he read the tension in the room and understood how much I valued my privacy in the morning. Had she gone through the proper channels for this meeting, he would have never let her through.
“I thought you were out?” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“Henry would know where more is,” I said. “He is that good at his job, and I would appreciate it if you reach out to him next time you want to talk to me.”
“Oh, surely that won’t be necessary. After all, we’ll be family soon.” She brushed her hand over her shoulder, a move meant to display her many gaudy rings, no doubt.
“Still, I prefer that guests be announced.”
“How is that going to work?” She tilted her head.
