Chapter 5

Connie's POV

I lifted my eyes and caught it—a flicker of something in his expression. It lasted only a second.

He looked… pleased?

Then it was gone. He settled back into his usual unhurried manner, one corner of his mouth curving into a loose, careless smile.

"Good."

I blinked at him. That flicker a moment ago—I wasn't even sure I'd seen it.

Probably relief, I decided. The trouble before the IPO was handled now.

The thought settled me a little.

Because to him, this marriage was a business arrangement. Nothing more.

I threw back the covers and swung my legs out of bed. The skirt had creased where I'd been lying on it, so I smoothed it down with one hand and bent to look for my shoes.

They'd been kicked off beside the bed last night—one near the nightstand, the other farther out across the floor.

I stretched and reached. My fingertips came up just short of the heel.

Just short.

So I gave up, slid my leg over the edge of the mattress, and got ready to put my bare foot down on the carpet.

Before my foot touched the floor, he reached down and picked up the shoe.

I looked up at him. "Thank you," I said, before I'd even thought about it.

He didn't hand it to me. Instead, he pulled the chair over from beside the bed and set it down in front of me.

"Sit."

I hesitated. "I can do it myself."

He acted as though he hadn't heard me. He went down on one knee and set the shoe beside my foot.

So I sat back down.

He took my ankle in his hand, his palm warm, his fingertips resting lightly along the top of my foot, and eased the shoe on.

My whole body went still.

He did it as though it were nothing, as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world. I had no idea what to do with my hands. In the end, I gripped the edge of the mattress, my eyes fixed on his shoulder.

His head was lowered, his hair falling forward over his brow and hiding his eyes. His sleeve was pushed up, revealing the clean line of his wrist.

I could even see the faded pink bite mark beside his throat.

I'd put it there.

My face went hot all over again.

"Adrian…"

"Mm?"

"I can do this."

He glanced up at me. "I know."

Then he adjusted the heel of the shoe and let go.

I didn't know what to say to that. Maybe this was nothing to him. But I'd made it this far in life without ever having a man bend down to take care of me like that.

I pulled my foot back a little, feeling strangely uncomfortable.

He didn't touch me again. He simply picked up the other shoe.

"The other one."

I hesitated, then held my foot out.

This time, my ankle jerked back before I could stop it.

His hand stopped in midair.

I realized how rude it must have looked and hurried to explain. "No—I just…"

"Ticklish?"

He looked up at me, a faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

I shook my head. "No."

Not used to it. I didn't say that part out loud.

Adrian didn't push. He took my ankle again, gentler than before, and slipped the second shoe on.

"There."

He stood and straightened his cuff.

I looked down at my feet. Both shoes were properly in place, the straps fastened and the heels adjusted.

"Thank you."

"It's nothing."

He stood over me for a moment, looking down, that careless smile returning.

"Come on, Mrs. Vance."

I raised my head.

Mrs. Vance.

The name landed in my ears, and my heart skipped a beat.

When he'd first brought up marriage, I'd taken it as the price of what he was doing for me.

But hearing him actually call me that made me realize this had moved beyond a proposal.

I was about to get married.

To a man I'd known for less than a day.

And that man was Adrian Vance.

"Are we going now?" I asked.

"Law firm first."

He picked up his phone and keys from the table.

"The agreement's already been drawn up. Read every page before you sign. If there's anything you're not comfortable with, tell me. We'll change it."

I nodded. "Okay."

It was close to noon by the time the car pulled up outside the law firm.

I followed Adrian into the building and rode the elevator up to the top floor. The receptionist had clearly been expecting us. She led us straight into a private conference room.

Two lawyers were already seated inside, one representing each of us.

Two documents lay on the table, along with a black pen.

Adrian sat down beside me and slid one of the documents over.

"This is the prenup."

I took it.

The heading on the first page was hard to miss.

I took a breath and turned the page.

Minimum term of marriage: three months.

I stopped. Read it again.

"Three months?"

"Yes."

He was sitting right beside me, his voice even.

"Once the company has gone public and things have settled, we'll file for divorce."

I looked down at that line.

Three months.

Far shorter than I'd imagined.

I'd assumed that if there was going to be a marriage at all, it would last a year, at least. Instead, he'd given me three months, as though this marriage existed only to get him through the current mess—something to be dismantled and put away the moment it had served its purpose.

I kept reading.

Article Two: Division of Assets.

Upon dissolution of the marriage, I would receive fifty percent of all assets held in Adrian's name, including real estate, investment portfolios, business interests, and any other personal holdings. The full list of assets and their corresponding valuations would be attached to the agreement and verified by counsel for both parties.

My finger stopped beside the percentage.

Fifty percent.

Of all his assets.

I stared at the words, almost certain I'd misunderstood them.

When he'd first made that promise, I'd assumed he was only saying it to reassure me. Maybe even joking. I hadn't imagined for a second that he'd actually put it in writing, let alone that he intended to give me half of everything he owned.

But there it was, in black and white.

Adrian Vance was serious.

I didn't dare think about what that meant.

Adrian's personal holdings were far beyond anything I could picture. Even half of the assets listed here would be enough to give me an entirely different life.

I couldn't help looking up at him.

He was reading the other document, his expression unchanged.

"Does the asset list here need further confirmation?" I asked.

"Of course. Your own lawyer can go through it with you, line by line."

"That's not what I meant."

I hesitated.

"It's just… in three months, could I really walk away with all of this?"

"As long as the terms are met, yes."

He said it as though there were no question about it.

I lowered my head and turned the pages.

Article Three: Public Appearances.

Both parties would cooperate with each other in public and attend necessary events together as husband and wife.

Article Four: Conduct During the Marriage.

Neither party would become involved with anyone else in a way that might attract media attention. Neither would create or participate in rumors that could damage the public image of the marriage.

Article Five: Confidentiality.

Neither party could disclose the details of the agreement to the press without the other's consent.

I read through them one by one. The agreement was far more detailed than I'd expected.

Everything was spelled out, from our obligations at public events and the agreed-upon responses to press inquiries to the prohibition against either of us doing anything that might invite negative coverage.

Then one clause stopped me.

"It says here that neither party can file for divorce unilaterally within the first three months."

"That's right."

"And if the marriage ends early?"