Читать книгу Baby for the Tycoon - Emily McKay - Страница 10

When Jonathon called her into the conference room the next morning, she was surprised to see Randy Zwack there. Randy had gone to college with Jonathon, Matt and Ford before going on to law school. He’d occasionally done work for FMJ, before they’d hired an intellectual property legal department, but that had been long before her time. She was more confused than surprised when she walked into the conference room and saw him there—looking more harried than usual.

Jonathon stood at the far end of the room, back to the door, staring out at the view of Palo Alto sprawling below. Randy sat dead in the center of the table, stacks of paper spread out before him. The lawyer looked up when she entered. He half stood and offered her a strained smile.

“Oh, good. You’re here,” he said as if he’d been waiting for her. “We can get started.”

“Hi, Randy.” She looked past him to Jonathon. When he turned around, she raised her eyebrows in question.

“What’s up?”

He frowned and with unusual hesitancy said, “I asked Randy here to draw up a prenuptial agreement for us.” He held out a hand to ward off some protest he imagined she might make. “Don’t worry. I trust his discretion.”

“I’m not worried.” In fact, delighted was more like it. “Calm down. I think a prenup is a fantastic idea.”

“You do?” Randy looked surprised.

“Why wouldn’t I?” She sat down in the chair opposite Randy. “I assume Jonathon told you why he’s helping me?”

Randy gave a little nod, still looking suspicious.

“This is a marriage custom-made for a prenup.”

“In the interest of full disclosure…” Randy ran a hand over his hair, which today looked disheveled, though it was normally meticulously styled to hide his growing bald spot. “This is not my area of expertise. I told Jonathon he should hire a good family lawyer, but—” Randy winced.

“But Jonathon can be very pig-headed.”

“I was going to say determined.”

No wonder the poor guy looked so disconcerted. Jonathon had obviously browbeat him into drawing up the prenup. And doing it on a very tight schedule, since Jonathon had proposed less than twenty-four hours ago.

“Don’t worry.” Wendy reached across the table and patted Randy’s hand. “I’m sure you did great. It’s all pretty cut-and-dry.”

Jonathon took a few steps closer to loom over them from the end of the table. He’d shoved his hands into his pockets in that way she found so distracting.

This was the man who was going to be her husband. In less than a week. Her stomach tightened at the thought.

“Okay, let’s see this puppy. It’s just your standard prenup, right?”

Reaching for the stack of papers in front of Randy, she clapped her hands in a way that was overly cheerful, as if this was a big fake check from Publishers Clearinghouse. But neither man noticed. Randy was too busy sending Jonathon a pointed glance and Jonathon was too busy glaring Randy into intimidated silence. She looked from one man to the other.

“This is a standard prenup? Right?”

Jonathon cleared his throat and loomed some more.

“You have nothing to worry about. Any assets you bring to the marriage or inherit while married revert to you upon the absolution of the union.” Randy flushed bright as he spoke. Just in case she’d seen through his obfuscation.

Ignoring Jonathon, she looked pointedly at Randy, waiting for him to cave. “That’s not what I asked, now, is it?”

He cleared his throat. “You… urn… have nothing to worry about.”

“Yes, you said that already. What about him?” She nodded in Jonathon’s direction.

“The prenup was written to my specification,” Jonathon said tightly. “I’m satisfied.”

Which was not the same thing at all.

Randy blushed all the way to his receding hairline, but refused to look at her. Jonathon, on the other hand, met her gaze without even flinching, which actually made her more nervous.

“Give me a minute.” Neither man budged. “Alone. With the prenup.” Still no movement from the united front. “Either you give me time to read it or you—” she pointed at Randy “—tell me what it is he doesn’t want me to see.”

Randy looked to Jonathon, who glowered at her for a second before granting a tight nod. Randy pulled her copy closer and flipped to a page midway through.

She scanned the paragraph, then read it aloud to give voice to her exasperation. “In the event of separation, annulment or divorce, the following premarital assets belonging to Jonathon Bagdon shall transfer to Gwendolyn Leland—the monetary value of twenty percent of all real property, tangible property, securities and cash owed by—”

She broke off in frustration, too stunned to continue. She glared at them both. “Whose idea was this ridiculous clause?”

Randy held up his hands. “Not mine.” He sounded as offended as she was.

“But you let him include this? Are you insane?” She clenched and unclenched her fingers around the pen Randy had handed her as he gave a what-could-I-do shrug. She smiled tightly at him and said through clenched teeth, “Will you please give me a minute alone with my future husband?”

Randy skittered away like a death-row inmate given a pardon. She didn’t blame him. Someone was going down. She wouldn’t want to get caught in the crossfire either.

The second they were alone she asked, “Twenty percent? Twenty? Are you crazy?”

Jonathon at least had the good sense to try to sound placating. “Now, Wendy…”

“You know I’m not taking twenty percent!”

“After two years being married to me, you may think you’ve earned it.”

She blew out a breath of exasperation. “I’m not taking. A penny. Of your money.”

“Don’t forget, California is a community property state. If you don’t sign the prenup, you’re entitled to half of anything I earn while we’re together. For all you know that could be more than this twenty percent.”

“What? Because you haven’t been meeting your full potential before now?” He just scowled at her. “You know that has nothing to do with why I’m marrying you.”

“I also know exactly how much money you make and that you’ll have trouble supporting yourself and a child on that income.”

“Lots of single-parent families get by on what I make,” she pointed out.

“Maybe they do,” he countered. “But you don’t have to.”

“So what? You’re just going to give me all of that money? Did you somehow miss the conversation yesterday where I mentioned that I’m a Morgan? Trust me when I tell you, Jonathon, I will be fine.”

His lips curved into the barest hint of a smile. “No. I didn’t miss that, but I also know how damn stubborn you are. And I know that you’re not going to ask your family for money. If you were the kind of person who would do that, you wouldn’t be in this position to begin with.”

Hmm. Good point. “But,” she countered, “you thought you’d talk me into taking twenty percent of your assets?”

“No. I rather hoped you’d sign the prenup without noticing that part.”

Well, that she could believe. He was just arrogant enough to think he could get away with a stunt like that.

“Even if I had signed the papers, I still wouldn’t have taken the money. That’s almost—” She struggled to do the math. Jonathon, no doubt, knew exactly how much that was, to the dime, at any given moment. “That’s… tens of millions of dollars.” Certainly more than the trust she’d never bothered to claim, which was a measly eight million. “I’m not taking that kind of money from you.”

He shrugged dismissively. “It’s a drop in the bucket.”

“It’s a fifth of the bucket. That’s a lot of drops.” She forced out a long. slow breath. Why was she angry? Why exactly?

She put voice to her thoughts as they came to her, not willing to give herself time to soften them. “Look, you’ve always been arrogant and controlling.”

He raised his eyebrows. Probably in surprise that she’d say it aloud to him. He certainly couldn’t be shocked by the idea.

“At work, it’s fine,” she continued. “You’re my boss. But if we’re going to get married, then the second we walk out that door each day—” she jabbed a finger toward the door “—you have to stop trying to control everything. Even if this isn’t a real marriage.”

“Wendy, I’m not—”

“But you are,” she said, cutting him off. “Don’t you get it? If I wanted to sit back and be taken care of for the rest of my life, I never would have left Texas. I like having to work for a living. I’ve been rich. I know that money alone won’t make me happy. And I also know that being with someone who’s always trying to control me will make me miserable. So either you back off, or we walk away from this now.”

He stared at her a long time, his gaze hard-edged and steely. She didn’t back down. She couldn’t. Her gut told her that if she lost her foothold now, she wouldn’t recover. Besides, she was far too used to intimidating glares from her father or uncle to do that. Eventually, she even smiled. “See. Your Jedi mind tricks don’t work on me.”

His lips twitched at her comment and finally, he gave a terse, reluctant nod, as if agreeing to keep his own money was an affront to his personal honor.

“There’s something else you should know.”

“Okay, hit me.”

“In the event of my death, you and Peyton get it all.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he raised a hand to cut her off. “I’m not budging on that one.”

“What about your family?” As familiar as she was with his schedule, she knew he didn’t see them often, but they did exist. “Surely you want them to have your fortune.”

His eyes were dark and shuttered. His face nearly expressionless. “There are certain charitable organizations that I’ve already provided for. If I die while we’re married, I want you to have the rest.”

She studied him for a moment. Since this was the most she’d ever heard him say about his family—precisely nothing—she had to assume he was serious. Boy, and she thought her relationship with her family was screwed up. “Okay,” she said softly. “Then we’ll just have to take very good care of you for the next two years. Make sure you take your vitamins.” She smiled at her own joke, but he didn’t return the smile. “Now that that’s settled, I’ll go tell Randy he can do his job and protect his client.”

She’d almost made it out the door when Jonathon’s words stopped her.

“I don’t want you to fall in love with me.”

Hand already on the doorknob, she turned to face him, eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”

His expression was so strained as to be nearly comical. “If we’re going to be together a year or maybe two, I don’t want you imagining that you’ve fallen in love with me.”

Fighting back a chuckle, she searched his face, but saw no signs that he was joking. In fact, he looked so serious, it made her heart catch in her chest. She had to force a teasing smile. “Why? Because you’re so charming and charismatic that I won’t be able to be constantly in your company without falling in love?” He didn’t smile at her, so she asked, “Is this a separate issue from the money or are the millions of dollars supposed to ease my heartache if I did fall in love with you?”

His lips twitched again, but she wasn’t sure if it was with suppressed humor or irritation. “Separate issue. But I’m serious.”

She could certainly see that. It made her uneasy, but she couldn’t say why. It wasn’t arrogance—his fear that she might fall in love with him. No, despite his natural confidence, she didn’t see that in his gaze now. Instead, she saw only concern. For her.

“Let me guess. You’re not the type of man who believes in love.” She could imagine that all too easily. Jonathon may feel physical passion—he’d proven that clearly enough when he’d kissed her yesterday—but love was something else entirely.

But to her surprise, he shook his head. “Oh, I believe in love. I know exactly how crippling it can be. That’s why I don’t want you to imagine you’ve fallen in love with me.”

“Okay,” she said, torn between wanting to reassure him, without telling him outright that she had absolutely no intention of risking her heart. Finally, she made the only counteroffer she could think of. “Then don’t fall in love with me either.”

He studied her for a moment, slowly smiling. Her chin bumped up a notch. “What? You think you’re above falling in love with me? I’ll have you know I’m very loveable.” Arching an eyebrow, she said, “I’m cute. And plucky. Greater men than you have fallen in love with me.” “I’m sure they have.”

“You think I’m joking?” she demanded, all fake belligerence.

“Not for a minute,” Jonathon conceded. And the really pathetic things was, he was being honest. In this moment, watching her trying to cajole him into laughing, it was all too easy to imagine falling in love with her. Smart, funny, never taking herself too seriously. Wendy was the whole package. Men who wanted things like a wife and family were probably waiting in line for a woman like her. Too bad he wasn’t one of them.

“Just don’t forget why I’m doing this. This isn’t a favor to you. This isn’t because I’m a nice guy. Don’t romanticize me. Don’t forget, not even for a minute, why I’m here. Why I’m doing this.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, her expression suddenly serious but a little bemused, as if she had no idea where he was going with this. “Remind me then. Why are you doing this?”

He was struck—not for the first time—that she wasn’t merely cute, but truly beautiful. With her swoopy little button nose and her pixie dimples, her face had more than its share of cuteness. But she was also lovely, with her dark—almost violet—blue eyes and her luminous skin. Her beauty had an ephemeral quality to it. Like a woman in a Maxfield Parrish painting.

He was so struck by her beauty that for a second, he forgot her question. Forgot that he was trying to direct this conversation. To remind her that he wasn’t some hero.

“I’m doing this for the same reason I’ve done everything else since I was eleven. I’m doing this because it serves my own goals. It serves FMJ.”

She gave him an odd look, as something almost like pity flickered across her expression. “If you didn’t want me to romanticize you, then maybe you shouldn’t have tried to give me a big nasty chunk of your fortune. So I’m going to reserve the right to think you’re not the heartless bastard you pretend to be.”

“You have to believe me when I tell you that everything I’ve done for you was for my own benefit. Keeping you in California was the best thing for FMJ. Marrying you is the best thing for FMJ. That’s the only reason I’m doing it.”

Finally she nodded. “Okay. If you want to keep insisting you’re so coldhearted, then I’ll try to remind myself as often as possible. We’ll start with the prenup, okay? We’ll ask Randy to rewrite it so I have to pay you twenty percent of my money. How does that sound?” She smiled as she asked, but it looked strained.

“Wendy—” he started.

“At the very least, we’ll put Randy out of his misery. We’ll go with the bare-bones prenup. Everyone walks away with what they had when they came into the marriage.”

He sighed. It wasn’t what he wanted. Not by a long shot. But he was starting to realize that when it came to Wendy, he wasn’t ever going to get what he wanted.

She paused at the door and looked over her shoulder, her forehead furrowed in thought. “The thing is, Jonathon, if you really were a heartless bastard, you wouldn’t have warned me off.”