Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
To one of my white dress shirts draped on her slight frame. The sleeves so long they hung past her fingers. She’d left the top two buttons undone, offering tempting views of her cleavage I hadn’t spent nearly enough devotion on. I almost groaned when I reached the stubborn tilt of her jaw that contrasted with the wide innocence of her eyes. She stood there gripping the railing, looking like the imperious Aspen I saw at work, but her grip tight like she wasn’t sure whether to run back upstairs or take another step.
She stood there…looking to me.
A heady wave of pride and satisfaction flooded my veins, sinking down to my cock. But we had things we needed to discuss and if I gave into the desire, talking would be the last thing we did.
“There’s coffee in the kitchen. I set a cup out for you.”
“Thank you,” she said.
The sway of my shirt along the backs of her thighs mesmerized me to the point of almost saying fuck talking.
Focus.
I needed to focus.
I snapped my gaze back to the papers and saw nothing but blurry lines as she got her cup and came to sit in the corner of the couch across from the chair I occupied. The morning sun worked against my efforts as it shined on the dark strands of her hair. I’d almost believe it was the smoothest silk if not for the fly aways created from where she slept against the pillow—my pillow.
My cock twitched again, and I crossed my ankle over my knee to hide the reaction.
No matter how hard I stared at the packet, my attention remained on her. The swish of her legs against the couch as she tucked her feet up to the side. The physical pull to glance up to discover if the position bared any more of her legs. The soft rush of air as she blew to cool off her coffee. The gentle slurp as she took a cautious sip of the hot drink. The quiet thud as she set her cup down on the side table.
Profit margin high. Risk low. Eight out of ten recommendation per our scale.
Blah, blah, blah.
I closed my eyes, inhaled as deep as I could through my nose, and held it.
“So…” she dragged out. “I guess we should discuss the details of our marriage.”
I released the breath in a rush and opened my eyes as I finally gave in and looked up at her, getting an answer to my earlier thought.
Yes, the shirt did bare more of her legs than before and the sight of the tails of my shirt spreading across her lap almost short-circuited my brain. It didn’t help that I caught her watching me as closely as I did her.
“What would you like to discuss first?”
A high-pitched laugh slipped free before she quickly got herself under control and shook her head. “I don’t even know. I guess…maybe…the basics of how we got here. The deal with Quinn.”
I nodded. “Okay. As I initially said, we will have a prenup that will contain a section that clearly outlines the details of our agreement.”
“And what do those details look like to you?” she asked, looking more like the businesswoman I saw every day—minus some clothing.
“Since the contract with your father gave you five years to acquire the funds to purchase the majority shares, I think it’s best we stick with that and after five years of marriage I will ensure you have the amount to procure the last five percent, whatever that may be. As for the rest of our assets—they would remain our own. We wouldn’t merge any of our personal or business accounts or belongings.”
“So, we would only have to be married for five years.”
The directness of her statement caught me off guard. I hesitated, unprepared for her to push for that kind of stipulation, and uncomfortable with the realization that I’d missed a possibility when I considered and planned for every outcome.
Rarely had I ever gone into negotiations without knowing the other party’s interests, goals, and intentions so thoroughly that I wasn’t prepared for every contingency. Yet somehow, I did not predict Aspen putting a time limit on our marriage.
It struck a nerve of discomfort, turning my surprise into irritation because when I imagined our marriage, I never considered divorce. So why would she? But why wouldn’t she want a divorce after five years? She’d only be thirty, leaving her plenty of time to move on with her life to find someone else. Meanwhile, I’d be back to square one, minus a godfather and the opportunity to gain control of Quinn Music Group.
Nothing about that situation sat right with me—especially the idea of Aspen moving on with someone else.
“I didn’t have a certain timeline in mind,” I stated. However, my pride forced me to add an out for her if she wanted to leave, removing the chance of having to try to convince her to stay beyond five years. Not that I would. I refused to put myself in a position that required me to convince anyone to stay with me. If they wanted to go, then they could fuck off. “However, if you would require a divorce after your acquisition, then we’d discuss that as any normal married couple would.”