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Pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Marsh Industries.
– Finnegan
“No.”
I sigh, holding the pad and pen out as Marcella, a notary, and I bump along in the back of a hay-filled trailer. “Please?”
Her angry eyes jet my way. Arms crossed, she huffs. “Absolutely not. Also, for the record, who does this?”
“Does what?”
Marcella tosses a hand toward Margo, the notary, who is patiently waiting with her stamp to confirm Marcella’s signature. Then she sweeps her arms to reference the entirety of the hay ride I organized for us to go on after work today.
“I told you I wanted to go on a hay ride.” I click the pen shut, then open, then shut.
Marcella’s pretty brown eyes narrow into slits. “You know something, Marshi?”
I stop clicking for a moment. “It takes you five business days to work up the nerve to call me by my first name just once?”
Her arms snap back together, impertinent. “You are an incurable tease.”
“Glad you noticed. Now.” I tilt the pen toward her. “One signature gets you on. One signature gets you off. There’s no risk to you, and it will help me to no longer need to confirm purchases or transfer funds into the executive assistant account while you plan our wedding. If it weren’t so easily reversed, I’d accept your wishes. But, for all intents and purposes, it is painless, and leveling the field between us going forward is important to me.”
“You are insane if you think I won’t go mad with power the second I have access to all your money.”
“I truly hope you do go mad with power. I’m awful at redistributing the wealth to the working-class since most of my purchases are from business-related corporations or fall to large-scale charity organizations.”
Marcella angles herself away from me. “What if I mess up and cause the collapse of Marsh Industries?”
“Then you are more skilled than I thought. No single purchase could come close to toppling the empire. Not even if the single purchase is a several-million dollar home.”
“What about several several-million dollar homes? I might lose my mind and buy vacation spots in half a dozen countries. How much does an island cost? What about developing it? How much will it cost to build a tiny hobbit hole island paradise with carrot fields and wild pet rabbits whose only cage is the surrounding ocean?” Her fingers dig into her bicep. “This started as an exaggeration, but now I will need the cost estimates and a list of available islands.”
I sigh. “My grandfather already bought an island before he died. I haven’t even been there, so you’re welcome to develop it and fill it with pet rabbits as it suits you. Rabbits aren’t expensive and neither is building a modest hobbit home.”
Her head whips my way. “You are—” She swears. “—joking.”
“Why would I joke about that?”
Wary, she looks between my face and the pen I’m clicking. “What’s my monthly budget? At least give me a monthly budget.”
“No. No monthly budget.”
“I need something to ease my you’re going to mess up and ruin everything anxiety. I’m not a proper rich person. I will be scrolling through Instagram, ordering anything cute I see, randomly donating to Kickstarters, buying up my entire Steam wish list in preparation for when Stardew Valley removes its claws from my jugular, and I need other farming sims.” She slaps a hand to her mouth. “I’ll need to buy a gaming computer.”
“You will. You also need to decorate your home so it’s less like a generic magazine and more…you.”
Her chin lifts, adorably arrogant. “I’ll get rid of all the beds.”
“Please also stop sleeping on the couch. Honestly, your aversion to change is commendable, but I fear for thirty-year-old you’s back.”
“You are making an awful lot of demands this fine evening, Finn.”
I bite my lip to mute my smile. The way she said it sounded like a curse, but this is the second time she’s said my name. It fills me with such incomprehensible joy.
An idea hits me. “Actually.”
She tenses.
