Chapter 11 #2
Without Reed next to me, I feel particularly vulnerable in front of the legal team. I got the sense before that they were all holding back, trying not to say what they were thinking in case they insulted him; they have no such qualms about offending me.
Almost immediately, the general counsel pulls a piece of paper from his folder and pushes it over to me. “We’ll also be needing you to sign this.”
I pick up the paper. The words swim before my eyes, a mess of incomprehensible legalese. “What is it?”
“Additional assurance for the company,” he says. “An agreement that, both during and after this six-month agreement, you will not participate in a discussion about Reed, or about Eastwood Hotels more generally, with anyone—press or otherwise—that hasn’t been approved by our PR team.”
“What?” I gape at him. “But… that’s going to be impossible. It’s six months of my life, and you just want me to never mention it again?”
“Preferably,” he agrees. “Unless PR tells you it’s acceptable.”
I glance down at the new contract again, reeling. “During and after?” A new thought occurs to me. “But… I’m supposed to have dinner with my parents tonight. I was going to tell them about the engagement.”
“Did PR tell you to do this?”
“No. It’s just… personal.”
The General Counsel shrugs. “None of this is personal, Ms. Quinn.”
I shake my head, pushing the paper away. “I can’t sign this. I… I don’t even have my own lawyer present.”
There’s a wave of titters from the assembled lawyers, who all shake their heads, giving me annoyed looks.
“What?” I demand.
“You have to understand,” says the lawyer at the end of the table, her voice clipped, “we’re doing our best to make sure that Mr. Eastwood doesn’t get legally tied to a gold digger.”
I sit back in the chair, appalled. “Excuse me?”
“Mr. Eastwood is a very wealthy man,” she continues, and the other members of the legal team nod along with her. “For the protection of his estate and of this company—”
“I’m not a gold digger, “ I snap, interrupting her. I have to react with anger; it’s my only choice. The last thing I want is to let them see how hurt I am. It’ll only make me appear more vulnerable.
“Of course,” says the General Counsel, sounding unconvinced. “Then you’ll have no problem signing this contract.”
“This isn’t about money at all,” I retort. “This is about shutting me up for good.”
“You’ll find that it’s all about money, Ms. Quinn.”
I can feel tears gathering at the corners of my eyes, stinging as they threaten to fall. I do my best to hold them back. “You’re treating me like I’m just some pawn. You can’t just jerk me around like this.”
“No?” The General Counsel scowls at me. “If you’re not willing to be amenable to Eastwood’s terms, then I’m sure we can find someone else who—”
The door opens, and he freezes mid-sentence as Reed enters the room. For a few seconds, everyone is still as Reed looks across the table, taking in the expression on my face. He’s observant enough to see the unshed tears, and a shadow falls over his face as he paces back to his chair and sits down.
“What did I miss?” he says, his voice quiet, dangerous.
In answer, I pass the new contract over to him. The room is silent as he scans the document. His grip on the side of the page tightens as he reads. When he’s finished, he glares at the head lawyer.
“What’s the meaning of this?”
The man clears his throat. “Mr. Eastwood, this is a standard—”
“Nothing about any of this is standard,” Reed interrupts, his voice rising in volume. “Don’t give me that bullshit.” He glances at me. “Tell me you didn’t sign this.”
“I didn’t,” I say quietly. “And I don’t want to, either.”
“Good. Because it’s complete garbage.”
“Mr. Eastwood,” one of the lawyers starts, but he cuts them off.
“The original contract is more than enough. You don’t need to make ridiculous demands of Olivia. It’s bad enough that we have to do this whole song and dance at all.”
“Mr. Eastwood,” the lawyer insists, “this is necessary to protect the company from—”
“From what?” Reed gestures to me. He’s irate; his anger is calm, but deadly, his normally playful expression contorted in rage. “From this girl, who happens to be a good friend of mine?”
“We would suggest the same contract no matter who you’d brought to this meeting,” the General Counsel says archly. “Your father requested that we do our due diligence. Our job is to protect this company.”
Reed shakes his head, his eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to stand for any disrespect towards Olivia. Is that clear?”
For good measure, he snatches the offending contract off the table and tears it in half down the center. He crumples both halves into a ball and throws the paper into the wastebasket by the door.
“Yes,” the General Counsel says stiffly. “That’s clear.”
Reed glances down at me, and his gaze softens. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m… I’m fine.”
He sits down beside me again, glaring back at the legal team. “Let’s take this from the top. And this time, you’re not going to accuse my fiancé of any improprieties.”
There are more than a few raised eyebrows at that, but none of the legal team comments. Instead, they all flip through their files, discarding their copies of the contract that Reed tore up.
“It’s okay,” I whisper to him in an undertone. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“You’re my wife,” he answers. “I’m not going to let anyone disrespect you.”
I frown at him, surprised at the way he’s talking. I’m not his wife yet, for one thing, but even when I am, it’s all going to be fake.
Nonetheless, his protectiveness means something to me. I feel stronger, knowing that he has my back.
Reed turns back to the legal team, his posture upright and intimidating. “So. If you would all please turn your attention back to our original contract…”
The meeting lasts for hours, and by the time we step outside, the sun is already low in the sky. The rest of the conference with legal was just as stressful as the start, but at least I had Reed beside me for it.
He fended off most of the audacious requests from the lawyers, and ignored at least three work calls to do it. As we wait in the lobby for the valet to return Reed’s car, I can feel his eyes on me.
“You seem tired,” he ventures as the car rolls up outside of the glass doors. “Are you alright?”
“Of course,” I say, getting to my feet. I’m exhausted enough that I’m a little wobbly on my heels, but I manage to keep my balance—I have years of practice to thank for that.
“Are you sure?” He raises an eyebrow, walking beside me. “That meeting was… a real pain in the ass.” He hesitates, then adds, “I know we’re supposed to head to your parents’ place for dinner, but if you aren’t feeling up to it, we can always reschedule.”
I shake my head adamantly. The PR team has scheduled the announcement for tomorrow night, which means it’s my last chance to make sure that my parents get the news from me.
“Olivia, it’s okay if—”
“I need to tell my parents,” I say. Reed holds the passenger door for me, and I slide into the car.
Once he’s in the driver’s seat, I turn to him and add, “I’ve always been close with them.
It’s bad enough that I’m lying to them about the real reason for this engagement.
I can’t keep them in the dark about this any more than I have to. ”
To my relief, Reed doesn’t argue. He just nods. “Okay. I get it. Do you need anything before we go, though? A cup of coffee, maybe? There’s a cappuccino machine in the lobby.”
“I’ll be okay,” I say. “The drive will keep me awake.”
“You sure about that?” Reed says, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile. “What if you find the drive relaxing?”
“In this city?” I snort. “In this car? I don’t think so. It’s not exactly a smooth ride.”
“It has a sport suspension,” Reed says indignantly, rubbing a hand over the sleek dashboard. “It’s supposed to be a little bumpy.”
“So you admit that it’s a little bumpy.”
Reed makes a big show of huffing, and I laugh, already feeling a little enlivened now that we’re away from the Eastwood lawyers.
“Well,” Reed says, once he’s done pantomiming his distress, “I know a good way to keep you awake.”
With that, he turns on the radio, and the car fills with the sound of static. He fiddles with the dials until he reaches a station that’s blaring classic rock.
“Loud music… windows down… that ought to keep you alert,” he says with a smile. “Any objections to the station?”
I shake my head. “Nope. This is fine by me.”
With that, Reed pulls away from the Eastwood building, joining the flow of post-rush hour traffic; the streets are full of vehicles, but moving at a steady pace instead of the gridlock it would’ve been a couple hours ago. Maybe late-running meetings are good for something, after all.
Reed takes us to Queens via the Williamsburg Bridge. Halfway over the bridge, as I’m staring at the sunset over the East River, the song changes on the radio to a tune I recognize. I can’t remember who the song is by, but I know the words, and I sing quietly under my breath as it plays.
Reed glances at me out of the corner of his eye, smiling, and I falter a little, self-conscious. I know I’m a terrible singer. But there’s no judgment in his amber-flecked eyes, only warmth.
To my surprise, he turns up the music and gestures for me to continue. The roar of the wind through the car eases my embarrassment, and I keep going.
As I reach for the song’s high notes, I let my voice grow louder, and Reed’s smile widens. I nod my head along with the tune during the instrumental part of the song, playing fake drums on the dashboard and dancing along with the song.
He laughs. His hands tap the steering wheel in time with the beat. I can tell that he’s enjoying himself; I like that he’s laughing along with me, not at me, as I make a fool of myself in his passenger seat.
For the refrain, Reed’s voice joins mine, and when the song ends, we’re both beaming as he tries to harmonize. My sides hurt from laughing. The careful bun my hair was in has come apart, and my dark locks are whipping around in the wind, but I don’t care. I’m having too much fun.
Laughing along with Reed, singing in the car… it feels like we’re real friends, comfortable with each other. Comfortable like two people whose relationship wasn’t just litigated to hell and back. Whose fates aren’t determined by contract.
It gives me a much-needed dose of energy and confidence.
For once, it feels like we really can pull this off.