Chapter 11 #4
My shoulders drop before I can stop them.
Damn it. She's biting her lip, and those terrace lights are making her eyes shine.
I didn't sign up to marry this woman, but after what she just said about her dad and giving up on her dreams—I'm not that much of an asshole. I don’t know about professional failure, but knowing what it’s like to lose a parent?
Oh, yeah. Can relate to that all day long.
My leg bounces under the table while I think.
I could easily bring up tax policy—watch her go off about billionaires paying their fair share, and this whole arrangement would implode in five minutes flat.
Instead, I grab my water and take a long drink. Not tonight.
Granddad gives me that look—the one that says he's made up his mind about Celeste.
Time to negotiate terms. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimes midnight.
My eyes burn from staring at spreadsheets all day, and my inbox still has forty unread emails waiting for me.
Unlike him, I don't have the luxury of afternoon naps and gardening breaks, so I need to go to bed soon.
I check my watch. Let's get this over with.
I know when I've lost. At dinner, when she went on about her healing crystals, and I saw my opening—one well-placed comment would've ended this whole charade.
But the words stuck in my throat. And now here we sit.
"Okay," Celeste says when Granddad prompts her to start the negotiation.
The old man's eyes light up like he's spotted a weakness in a competitor's defense.
This is the same shark who made Goldman Sachs' CEO cry like a little girl over fine print.
He leans forward, fingers steepled, ready to go for the kill.
Meanwhile, I'm staring at Celeste's profile like an idiot instead of watching my own back.
Something's changed since yesterday. That knot in my chest is gone, but now there's this other thing happening whenever she does that thing with her hair.
If she looked like my last three assistants, this would be manageable.
Roommates, basically. "Morning." "Coffee's ready.
" Done. But Christ, every time she talks I can't stop looking at her mouth.
Fuck that. I need a game plan: separate wings, minimal interaction, bury myself at the office.
Keep it professional enough that she sticks out the year, then we end this bullshit contract and I can breathe again.
“Celeste,” Granddad says. “Go on.”
"The thing is, waiting a year for the money won't work for me.
I need it now." Celeste twists her watch band around her wrist. "My mom's medical bills are piling up, and my sister Lexi's talking about dropping out of UCLA to work full-time.
I can't let her sacrifice her education.
" She swallowed hard. "That's my only motivation here. The money isn't for me—it's for them."
Granddad nods. “Okay, we can work around that. What do you need?”
"Look, I don't need that much money. Just cover my family's rent for a year—$2500 a month. That's all I'm asking. Two hundred fifty thousand is... I mean, it's way more than necessary. I couldn't possibly—"
"Oh, now," Granddad says, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
He taps his cane once against the marble floor.
"A young woman like you should know what she's worth.
Don't sell yourself short! That quarter million?
Consider it hazard pay for dealing with my grandson.
" He chuckles, then his expression softens.
“But I hear you about your mother's condition, and your sister at UCLA.
I'll cover their housing for the next two years—separate from our original agreement, of course. The quarter million stands."
“No, that’s too much, that’s-”
"Don't overthink this, Celeste," I say, watching her hesitate.
"Two-fifty's nothing to Granddad. You deserve every penny.
" I can't help but shake my head at the old man's eagerness.
No negotiation, no pushback—just handing over more than she even requested.
Whatever his reasons for wanting this marriage, they must run deep.
If she were smarter about this, she'd ask for double.
Hell, the way he's acting, he'd probably toss in his vintage Rolex collection if she so much as glanced at it.
Celeste just nods. “Well. That was easy enough. I was really nervous asking about my mother and sister being taken care of. But thank you, Joseph. I mean, you really don’t have to pay me anything at all, I-”
I shoot her a look. Her eyes dart away, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.
Granddad's net worth hits $50 billion. This quarter-million? It’s a rounding error.
But across the table sits someone who calculates whether she can afford both gas and groceries in the same week.
And now an old man she barely knows is promising her a check that could buy a house.
Well, a small condo at any rate, in Nebraska somewhere. Maybe.
Granddad slides the contract across the table to her—he's already added that bit about covering her family's rent for the next two years.
When she picks up the pen, I notice her fingers trembling.
The scratch of ink on paper sounds like a death sentence.
Christ. This is real now. I'm actually going to marry this woman I barely know, this stranger who's about to become my wife.
My collar tightens around my throat, and the room shrinks around me.
The walls are closing in and there’s nothing I can do.