A Royal Entanglement: The Young Royals Book 2 (37 page)

David glanced at me and I nodded my head.
 
“Go on,” he said.

“As to the payment of the ten million dollars, we’d like to change the instalments.
 
The first payment will be two million, payable upon the signing of the marriage certificate and the remainder is to be paid into a trust on the anniversary of the contract each year.”

I shook my head.
 
“No,” I said simply.

“You can’t expect my client to come up with the full ten million dollars overnight and what guarantee does he have that the rest of the will’s stipulations will be met, namely that a child will be produced within the first year?”

“This is our counteroffer,” David said.
 
We had discussed that this might come up.
 
“Two million up front, three million with the birth of the first child and the remaining five million to be placed in a trust on the first anniversary.”

The attorney and Bradley conferred in whispers until finally he turned back to us and nodded, “Agreed.”
 
He flipped some pages and pretended to read something before speaking again.
 
“Next we would like to discuss the ‘conjugal’ visits.
 
Considering the will’s stipulations for a child to be conceived within the first year, it seems highly unlikely for that event to occur with only one visit per month.”

Again, David and I had discussed this and he answered confidently.
 
“My client is willing to concede three nights a month during her ovulation period until a viable foetus is produced.”

The other attorney nodded and made a note on his legal pad before looking back at the contract in his hand.
 
“My client would prefer that his wife not work outside the home.”

“That point is non-negotiable,” David said, “My client is adamant that she be allowed to pursue whatever endeavours she chooses to while under this contractual obligation—”

“Marriage,” Bradley said, “It’s a marriage, we’re getting married for God’s sake, it’s not a merger of companies.”

“A marriage implies love,” I said, “And, as I see it, this is more of a hostile takeover than a loving relationship.
 
You are forcing me into this
marriage
, but let’s be honest when we say that it is little more than a business agreement.”

“Fine,” Bradley said with a huff and a wave of his hand, “She can work.
 
Now can we please get on with it.”

“The only other matter we need to discuss is the pre-nuptial agreement.”

I raised my eyebrow at Bradley.
 
“A pre-nuptial agreement?”

“I’m giving you ten million dollars,” he spat, “Plus another five million to your family.
 
I think that is quite enough and I have no intention of letting you try to claim half of my estate when the five years is up.”

“And you think I’m the type of person who would do that?” I asked.

“I think the fact that you want ten million dollars before you’ve even married me is proof enough that you are just that type of person.”

“So you think I should just give up my life to marry you so you can get your inheritance, but I shouldn’t ask for anything in return?”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

“I think that is exactly what you are saying,” I said, “You think my life and my dreams are worth less than ten million dollars?
 
I think you’re getting off easy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, what are you giving up?
 
A job as a servant for a monarch in a backwoods country?
 
It’s only five years, don’t be so damn dramatic.”

“Five years of my life and a child that my body has to produce.
 
And I wasn’t a servant, I was a Personal Assistant to the Queen of Merveille who also happens to be a close personal friend.
 
It may just be five years to you, but it’s a hell of a lot more to me!”

“If you two are finished?”
 
Bradley’s attorney eyed both of us and I crossed my arms over my chest in defiance.
 
“There is a provision for alimony that will be determined by how many children are produced during the five years and a final lumps sum payment of two million dollars over and above the ten million dollars already being paid.”

“Fine,” I said, “Just show me where to sign.”

I was done with these negotiations.
 
I was marrying this man tomorrow and there were still things I needed to do, not that I was sentimental about the wedding itself, just that it needed to look good to the press.
 
The last thing we needed was for the details of this marriage to get out and being that it was kind of hush hush combined with the fiasco of the previous aborted wedding, everything needed to look legit.
 
We had to satisfy the requirements of the will to see any of the money so the wedding had to be as close to the real thing as possible.
 
Well, it would be real, I would be legally wed to this man, but it also needed to look real.

“Sign here.”

I said goodbye to David out the front of the attorney’s office and slid into a cab.
 
I was getting married tomorrow, but I didn’t yet have a dress.
 

If I was honest with myself, I didn’t want a dress.
 
This marriage was a farce, a business deal and the last thing I wanted to do was make a big deal about it.
 
What I wanted was for it to be a simple as signing some papers in an attorney’s office.
 
But that wouldn’t satisfy the terms of the will nor would it placate the media.
 

Our registry office wedding would go over like a lead balloon in the press, so we needed to make some concessions.
 
Official photographs and a press release were the absolute minimum we could get away with.
 
Bradley wasn’t famous, not the type of fame that made him instantly recognisable, but his family was one of the wealthiest families in Boston and if Bradley got married with no kind of media alert, it wouldn't look right.
 

So I needed a dress and probably a small posey of flowers, at least a nod to a traditional wedding.
 
But I had already done the big fancy designer dress and there was no way I wanted a repeat of that.
 
Something off-the-rack would suit my needs, but it still had to be expensive, I was marrying a billionaire after-all, well, a soon-to-be billionaire at least.
 

I walked into the first high street boutique I came across and flicked through the racks looking for something suitable.
 
I wished I had Savannah here with me to help me choose something.
 

I stopped what I was doing and closed my eyes against the pain.
 
I missed my friends, more than I ever thought I would.
 
We had been virtual strangers brought together as Alyssa’s entourage and we had bonded.
 
I had never had friends as close as those women had become and there was a physical ache knowing that I wouldn’t ever be included in their circle again.
 
Even if I eventually moved back to Merveille, the intimacy that had come from being within Alyssa’s close circle would be blocked from me.
 
I would never be part of that inner circle and our relationships would never be the same.
 

“Can I help you find something?” the sales assistants voice interrupted my moment of self-pity.
 

“I’m looking for something to wear to a wedding,” I said, shoving down the emotions that had threatened to overtake me.
 

“Did you have a colour or a style in mind?"
 

“White,” I said, “And something stylish, but not too…fussy."
 

“White isn’t really appropriate for a wedding—"
 

“It is when you’re the bride,” I said.
 

“O-kay,” she said slowly before taking a breath.
 
“Wouldn’t you be better off going to a bridal—"
 

“Look,” I said, turning to her, “I’m getting married tomorrow.
 
I want something white and classic that doesn’t necessarily look like a wedding dress.
 
Can you help me or not?”
 
I turned back to the rack and resumed my browsing.
 

“Of course,” she said, switching gears and letting a professional veneer drop over her face, “Have you thought of a pants suit?"
 

I stopped my flicking through the rack and turned to face her again, a small smile twitching at the corner of my mouth.
 

“A pants suit,” I said thoughtfully, “I like it.
 
Show me."
 

The sales assistant led me over to another part of the shop and pulled out pants and jackets, vest and sheer white blouses.
 

“Let’s get a change room started,” she said, taking her bounty and showing me into a plush dressing room. She hung up the various pieces she had selected and pulled the curtain closed, leaving me to try on the garments.
 

I slipped the cool fabric on and inspected myself in the mirror.
 
It wasn’t a wedding dress, but I liked the statement it was sending.
 
I may be forced into this marriage, but I would not go into it from a position of weakness.
 
I wasn’t that naive woman that had blindly agreed to marry Bradley twelve months ago.
 
I had grown, I had learned so much about myself in the last month that I was going into this with my eyes wide open.
 

It wasn’t the fairytale ending that I had always dreamed of, but who got those outside of movies and romance novels?
 
This was real life and it was hard and messy and sometimes ugly and you did what you had to do in order to survive it.
 
And I would survive this.
 

The sales assistant came back to check on me and added a few more pieces to the ones she had already given me.
 
I tried on different pants with blouses and vests and jackets until I settled on an outfit.
 
A pair of slim fitting tailored pants that fell to the floor and covered my toes with a subtle flare, a sheer blouse with a deep neckline and loose tie and a fitted jacket.
 
I would wear nude heals and my hair in a slick chignon with a small fascinator.
 
it was perfect.
 

I paid for the items and thanked the sales assistant for her help before leaving the store and heading to my next appointment.
 

I walked into the florist and looked over the fresh flowers they had on display.
 
The bouquet was just a prop, set dressing to make the paparazzi believe that this wedding was real, but I also knew that they would be photographed and printed in the society pages and probably glossy gossip magazines.
 
I couldn’t just pick any old thing, it needed to make a statement.
 
I spied the deepest, darkest crimson peonies I had ever seen, so dark they were almost black.
 
As soon as I saw them, I knew.
 
Without a second thought, I walked up to the counter and ordered a bouquet of them to be delivered to the house tomorrow morning.
 

I slipped down into the hot, fragrant water and sighed.  Leaning back against the porcelain tub, I closed my eyes and let the warmth of the bath leech the tension from my body.  The last minute wedding plans had all been finalised and there was nothing left to do but show up tomorrow and sign the next five years of my life away.
 

I couldn’t think about where I would be this time tomorrow, I didn’t want to think about my future at all, not right now.  Right now I wanted to indulge myself in thinking about what I was giving up.  I had been keeping thoughts of Freddie locked up tight, but right now, on the last night of my old life, I opened the door and let the memories come.
 

I had only known Freddie for seven months, but from the very first meeting, something inside me had come alive.  It was almost like something inside me recognised him, even though we had never met.  With each day that we spent together, that feeling only grew.  Sure, he frustrated and annoyed me and pushed me out of my comfort zone, but it was those things that endeared him to me.
 

We would be in meetings with Alyssa as we tried to work out the particulars of her ascension and I would feel his eyes on me like a caress.  The hairs on my arm would stand on end and my skin would prickle with goose bumps.  Having Freddie’s complete attention on me was like nothing I had ever experienced, or would ever experience again.
 

I had become so attuned to him that my body would know the moment he stepped into the same room, without me even having to turn around and see him.  I would hear his voice and a shiver would tremble through me.  He was addictive and had become my drug of choice.
 

We couldn’t be in the same room without me gravitating towards him.  I tried to resist, initially, but the pull was too strong.  And it seemed to be the same for him.  He would seek me out, crowd into my personal space and touch me, not in a creepy way, but in a I-can’t-help-myself way.  He would brush shoulders with me, or our fingers would touch.  He had even tucked a stray curl behind my ear once or twice and this was all before our ‘fake’ relationship.