Page 9

“He’ll still report to me.”
“Wrong. He reports to my mother.”
I look at the brawny fucker.
“I assure you he’s properly trained, former ops, did two tours, and is paid handsomely to deal with my mother on my behalf.”
“How old is he?”
“I-“ She turns to face him and I watch as her hair falls over her shoulder and around her chest. I flick my gaze back to Parker. “How old are you? Thirty-four?”
“Thirty-five.” He replies in a gruff voice, with a slight southern drawl.Oh great, she gave a redneck a gun.
“He’s thirty-five,” she repeats almost fascinated and that tells me that no, they aren’t fucking. He’s just staff and she sees him as staff and nothing else. Typical.
“Fine,” I agree. “Parker can stay.”
“Thank you, next order of business,” she says, flipping to the next highlighted section. “You want to marry too quickly. I’m a socialite and given your…status,” cat eyes flick to mine then back down to the document as I take a sip of my espresso. Fuck it’s good. “I believe it would benefit us if we’re seen together a few times. While you and I know the reasons this marriage is happening, as a socialite, I should be seen with you more than just on the day of our wedding.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll be courting me, Mr. Giordano.”
Christ, did I wake up in the Regency era?
“No, you did not.”
Shit, I must’ve said that out loud. “How would we even say we met?”
“Look over your right shoulder and to your left, Mr. Giordano.”
I do, tilting my head to the side and taking a peek over my shoulder and see a man with a baseball cap that has his phone set up against the silver napkin dispenser on his table. It’s flipped sideways like he’s watching a video on his phone, but the camera is in fact, placed in our direction.
“That… is a paparazzo. He’s snapped at least four pictures of us since you sat down. They get sneakier and sneakier every year, it seems.This”she motions between us with a glove-laced finger“is how we met.”
“How do you know that’s paparazzi?” He has one white earbud in place, and he looks interested in whatever is going on on his phone screen, not us. I turn back to face my future bride.
“How do you not?” She asks, her eyes fully on me now, an impeccably groomed brown brow arched. “The story will be that we met while I worked a case, you had some answers I needed on behalf of a client, and it was love at first sight. We’ll be seen at a charity gala together one month from now, and then two weeks later we will be seen at dinner. Your choice of restaurant, although you should know I’m not fond of loud nor cramped places. You will propose to me New Year’s Eve,” she slides over a picture of a ring. Rose gold, three little white stones on either side, and in the center, one large, pink oval diamond.
“Apinkdiamond?”
“Seeing as it will be my only marriage and it so happens it’s arranged, then I’marrangingthis for it to also be for my benefit. Seeing as it’s something I’ll not only have to wear every day but have to look at it as well,thatis the ring I want. I’ve taken away the guessing games. What do your people say?Capiche?”
I nod once.
“Perfect. Let’s continue.” Sabrina flips a few more pages and finds another highlighted page. “It says here you’ll receive your payment in increments of one million quarterly with ten percent in interest once the first year of marriage is completed. Is this still fine with you?”
Better than waiting two fucking years for her to come into her trust fund and letting her worm of a father live. “Yes, that’s fine,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Oh, and Mr. Giordano-“
“Call me Maks, Sabrina.”
She nods mindlessly, “Mr. Giordano,” she goes to the next highlighted section which states we’ll be living in my penthouse. “I would like to let you know now, I will be keeping my home in Brooklyn Heights and when it comes to your penthouse, I require my own bedroom, and I won’t be giving you heirs.” She taps the fuzzy ball on her pen to the table looking at me expectantly, as ifthisis the part I’m supposed to refuse her and the contract.
I almost choke on my sip of espresso. “That’s fine. With the hours I keep, we’ll hardly see each other.”
“Wonderful. Now, if you’ll just sign here,” she says with a smile, but she almost looks… relieved or disappointed. I look over at Parker who’s watching me intently. Flipping to the last page, Sabrina is then handing me her sparkly pen.