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His breath feathered across my lips. “My attorneys want me to have a prenuptial drawn up.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” I said without hesitation.
He met my gaze. “I don’t.”
“I’m not with you for your money or what you can do for me. I’m marrying you because I love you. I have my own money,” I reasoned.
“I think you should let me invest it for you.”
My stepfather had invested my trust fund years ago, building a comfortable nest egg for me. I didn’t need to work if I chose not to, but I would rather save my money for something important or retirement, which ever came first.
"Anders does a fine job," I said, trying to keep my tone light.
"I've seen your portfolio. I think I can do better," Oliver countered.
"When did you see my portfolio?" I asked, surprise evident in my voice.
"A couple of months back. You left your statement on the counter. And you're right, Anders has done a fine job, but I can do better."
"Does it matter? That money is chump change compared to what my fiancé has," I pointed out.
"Yes, it is, but I'd feel better having it under my control," he insisted.
"No. Anders is my stepfather. How would it look if I took it out of his control?" I asked, frustration creeping into my voice.
"Like you're making an adult decision," he replied smoothly.
I untangled myself from his arms and slipped off his lap, staring out the window. "Thank you for the offer, but I'll leave it where it is.”
Oliver's frown deepened, his eyes growing dark with confusion.
"Ryleigh, what did I say wrong?" he asked, his tone softening.
"I don't want everything under your control. Is that so horrible?" I snapped, my annoyance flaring.
"No, but I want you to be secure," he explained, his voice gentle.
"Are you planning on going bankrupt?" I challenged.
"Well, no. It would take a lot for that to happen," he admitted.
"Then stop worrying about my money unless you plan to divorce me," I said sharply.
"That's not even a consideration," he replied, sounding hurt.
"Then let this go."
"I'm sorry," he murmured.
"Drop it," I snapped again. Oliver said nothing else, and I could hear him tapping on his phone. I was irritated, not just because he wanted to control my money, but because he thought he could do it better. Maybe he could, but I trusted Anders to take care of my funds.
My inheritance had grown to almost three million dollars since Anders had handled the investments for the last fourteen years. If I ever broke up with Oliver, I would have a comfortable nest egg for retirement.
“Ryleigh?”
I sighed and turned to look at Oliver. “What?”
His face was passive. “Don’t be angry at me. I only want what’s best for you.”
