Chapter 11
LANEY
S terling Westbrook had asked me to marry him. Not in the down-on-one-knee, traditional, romantic way, but in the here’s-a-contract, I-hope-you’ll-sign-it sort of way.
There was absolutely nothing romantic about it, but he also wasn’t joking.
For the merest moment when I opened the folder, I really thought he was kidding, but when I looked over the papers and realized everything was all written out, just waiting for my signature, it dawned on me that he was very, very serious.
My heart started pounding in my chest, the delicious meal I’d just had turning to concrete in my stomach. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
I laughed at him. Right in his face. I also closed the folder with a loud thwack and pushed it back toward him, already shoving my chair back to get up.
Only, he wasn’t laughing. He didn’t look surprised by my question either, nor did he seem surprised about my outburst or offended by my reaction.
“Very few people know this about my family,” he said, picking up his wine and leaning back in the chair like he didn’t know—or perhaps didn’t care—that I was about to storm away.
“It’s a well-kept secret, but my parents had an arranged marriage.
As did my grandparents before them, and so on and so forth. ”
Shocked, I forgot I’d been about to stomp to my guest suite, grab my shit, and call an Uber to get me away from this nutjob. I slumped back in my chair. “Is that true?”
He inclined his chin and took a healthy gulp of his wine. It was that more than anything else that made me settle back down in my seat.
Sterling didn’t seem the type to be nervous, but draining at least half his glass in one sip meant the man was actually feeling it. Which made me curious to hear about where this insanity had come from. I doubted he really wanted to marry me.
God, it’d been what? Two weeks since we’d first met—and that was counting the incident when he’d nearly mopped me up off the street.
All of which meant this had to be coming from somewhere else. Someplace overwhelming for him. I sat my ass down and listened, mostly out of curiosity and maybe a tiny touch of pity.
Those icy blue eyes locked on mine, almost silver in the twilight.
The color made them—and his story—so much more riveting.
“I realize how strange this must sound to you, Laney. It’s something I grew up with and I still can’t quite get my head wrapped around it some days, but my family has always done it this way. ”
“Why?” I breathed, unable to find my voice but too curious not to say anything at all. “Surely, you’ve all got plenty of loving admirers. I mean, you’re the Westwoods, and also, look at you.”
A slight smirk touched the very corners of his lips and he sighed but nodded.
“Yes, look at us. It’s hard to know who’s after the money and who’s after the fame.
The press won’t leave us alone even though the most interesting thing any of us do on a daily basis is run a business, like so many others, and the money? Don’t even get me started on that.”
I felt my eyebrows knitting, my heart still thundering against my ribs. “So, what is this, then? A way to protect yourselves from the vultures?”
“It protects the wealth,” he said easily. Too easily. Like it was a rehearsed answer. “Frankly, it also takes the hassle out of it. This kind of arrangement is fruitful in more ways than one. It’s beneficial to both parties and no one is left exposed.”
“But your parents…” I trailed off, darting to the edges of my mind to collect my thoughts. “I’ve read about them. They’re happily married. Going on forty years or something.”
“Thirty-five,” he corrected me lightly. “I’m thirty-four, if that gives you any idea of how serious I am.”
I didn’t respond to that. I didn’t know what to say, but the math was mathing and it was doing it hard. Sterling seemed to understand though, continuing without waiting for me to deliver any input.
“If you agree to this, you’d be entitled to five million dollars upfront,” he said as if he was telling someone where the restroom was in a tiny apartment, like it was absolutely obvious, a complete no-brainer. “After that, when you have my baby, my heir, you’d be entitled to another five million.”
My mouth went dry, but he wasn’t even done yet.
“Further to that, if you stay in the marriage for at least a year and you’ve had my child, on top of that ten million, you’ll also be given twenty-five million dollars and you can walk away from the marriage at that point.”
I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. He was just so serious, hotter than hell Sterling Westbrook sitting across from me at the dinner table in his Malibu mansion, speaking about mind-boggling amounts of money if I married him and had his baby.
It was so ridiculous that I was starting to wonder if my wine had been spiked. This couldn’t be real. There was just no way, but the more I laughed, the more frustrated he seemed to be getting. His jaw was legitimately starting to tick.
“What?” he asked after taking another swig of his wine. “What’s so funny?”
“You. Talking about thirty-five million dollars in total as if it’s nothing. I mean, it’s just absurd. I’m sorry, but no. I’m not marrying you. Not for that amount or any other.”
“I thought you’d say that.” He produced another folder from the same mysterious place from which he’d pulled the first. “This is a future outlook for your beloved business. Go ahead. Look it over.”
My laughter abruptly cut off, ice forming in my veins. I didn’t reach for the folder. “What are you talking about?”
“I employ a whole panel of experts for this kind of thing,” he explained, not coldly, but he wasn’t exactly warm about it either.
He was just stating facts. “Some of the best analysts and corporate risk assessors in the world work for me. In their opinion, you’ve got five good years left of profit before my people predict a massive downturn. ”
The remnants of my smile fell, but he kept talking like he wasn’t yanking the rug right out from underneath me.
“You can’t compete with online markets or big chain stores.
As your majority shareholder, I’m not going to appease you based on only maybe five more years of profitability, the amount of which will be so nominal that it honestly isn’t even enough to get me out of bed in the morning.
The business is going to fail. I will take it apart and you won’t be able to fight me. It’ll be over by this time next week.”
“But?” I practically whispered, knowing he had to be going somewhere with this.
He shrugged a shoulder, the fading sunlight throwing his regal features into shadow just enough to make him look every bit as sharp-edged and ruthless as it turned out he really was.
“But if you agree to marry me, I’ll agree to keep your business going.
If you make it a year and give me an heir, I’ll give you my share.
For free. Without you having to buy me out.
You’ll still have four good years left to figure out what to do next and you’ll be able to do it without any outside interference from me or anyone else. ”
Stunned and furious, I realized he’d backed me into that corner my dad had predicted. I lowered my head, my body feeling like it was going completely numb, inch by inch.
And still, Sterling fucking Westwood wasn’t finished.
“Also, not for nothing, but if you do marry me, you’ll get not only my money, but my influence.
As a Westwood, you’ll get a certain amount of support from people who wouldn’t have supported you otherwise.
You’ll be able to keep your store and you can ride out the next year at least, at which point, you’ll have money to put into reinventing it again like you said or you could just retire and live out your life as?—”
“What about the baby aspect?” I asked, cutting him off without feeling even a little bit bad about it. I’d seen how he worked now. He really did only care about money, but what he was asking me, in addition to marrying him, was to have his child.
A child who, potentially, would be a living, breathing human born within the next twelve months. No way was I even going to think about agreeing to this insanity, no matter how much he was paying me, without knowing what would happen to the baby once it was born—or how it would be made.
Thinking I was caving, he seemed to relax some and he hazarded a surprisingly accurate guess at one of my main concerns. “We could do IVF or IUI. I’d cover the expenses if you choose to do it that way, or we could do it the old-fashioned way. I’ve heard practice makes perfect.”
I wrinkled my nose in distaste and he smirked but didn’t call me out on my obvious attraction to him.
After today, I knew he’d noticed. There was no way he hadn’t.
This guy didn’t miss anything and especially not if this was what he’d been planning all along, but mercifully, his mind still seemed to be focused on the task at hand.
“You’d be set during the pregnancy,” he said. “You wouldn’t have to spend a dime and the money you’d get for marrying me will remain untouched.”
The more he explained, the more I realized just how easy this would be. I’d get my store, security, and a baby. All the things I’d ever wanted, except for love. I would never get that from him.
“During our marriage, you’d have access to my accounts, and obviously, I’d fund your daily needs, so you really wouldn’t have to touch a single dollar of your money.”
“During our marriage,” I repeated numbly after him. “What exactly would you expect from this marriage?”
“We’d have to live together as a couple for exactly a year,” he said, so matter-of-fact I was really starting to wonder if he was a robot.
“One year as man and wife, and if you get to the end of that year and you want out, we’ll divorce.
Amicably. Quickly. You’d also be entitled to annual alimony while our child would receive an amount of at least three hundred thousand dollars a month in child support. ”
“Child support.” My jaw dropped open. “You’d let the child stay with me?”
“Of course.” He frowned. “You’d be his or her mother. It’d be part of our agreement from the outset that the baby would stay with you no matter what, but I’ll pay for private school, activities, and heath care on top of the child support. Anything you need.”
He paused for a beat, then added, “With the understanding that the child would be yours to raise. There would be family events from my side, obviously. A few other obligations, but those would be communicated to you in advance with plenty of notice.”
I couldn’t believe it. Honestly, I just couldn’t. “I’ve never been someone who strives for wealth or glamour, Sterling. I don’t know that I’m the best choice for this.”
“You’d be my wife ,” he said, again as if it were no big deal.
“Money would never be a problem for you. Ever. I would take care of you and of our child with everything I have. Neither of you would ever want for anything, but the fact that you don’t think you’re the best choice is exactly why you are. ”
He looked me right in the eyes, quite obviously meaning every single word.
I stared back at him, as confused as I’d ever been.
When he’d first brought this up, I’d been ready to walk away without hearing a word of this, but now that I had, I found it impossible to form the word no as easily as I should’ve been able to.
“Can I think about it?” I asked quietly after a beat.
He nodded.
“Why would you even ask me ? Why do you say that’s exactly what makes me the right choice?” That was what I really didn’t understand. “Don’t you know rich women? Other women who would expect and agree to your terms at the drop of a hat? Women who want your money?”
“I know far too many of all those kinds of women.” He leveled me with his gaze, not a hint of deceit, laughter, or a lie anywhere in it. “Yet I’ve rarely ever been in the presence of a woman like you.”
I tried to take it as a compliment, but he seemed like a pretty judgmental guy and I just wasn’t sure what to make of it. At least, he didn’t seem to think I was stupid.
After barely touching his food, which I suspected would be ice cold by now, he drained the last of his wine and stood up.
“I’d like an answer within a week. If you’d like, I’ll also hire an attorney for you who’s outside of my usual arsenal of lawyers.
They can look over the contract with you and we can meet to discuss any concerns that may arise. ”
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone at the table feeling like I was dreaming. Possibly having a nightmare, but the contract was right in front of me on the table and it was very real.
Am I desperate enough to do this?
I’d lose the business if I didn’t and he’d give me a baby. Literally everything I’d ever wanted on a silver platter—or in a leather folder, as the case might be, but still.
Sterling Westwood was offering me everything except his heart, and while I didn’t really want that from him, I wasn’t quite sure I could take any of the rest of it if that was absolutely never even going to be on the table.