Page 39
“It was a corporate plan, and technically, I haven’t worked for him in months. But it was only canceled last month. I know what you’re going to say,” she adds as I open my mouth. “An oversight at the office. Except, I also had access to the family concierge medical service. But huh.” She presses a pondering finger to her lips. “That stopped at the same time. And last I checked, I am still part of the family.”
Fuck.
“Then there was the fun time I had with the IRS when someone informed them I’d failed to report income from freelance consulting to the tune of forty-two thousand dollars. I mean, sure, let me pay those taxes on money I never earned. And the last one is almost laughable—a letter from his lawyer reminding me of my confidentiality obligations to the family office. At best, an empty threat. It said he’d pursue damages, but from what? You can’t get blood out of a stone.” Her arms rise and fall in a motion of futility.
“And you think all this leads to what?” My tone might be even, but I almost dread her answer.
“Forcing me back into the fold.”
Her certainty gives me pause, but this isn’t how I remember things being between her and her dad. “So you think marrying me will offer you protection?” My stomach tightens as though preparing for a blow.
“I think marrying you will give me access to my trust fund before he turns his attention to that. It really is only a matter of time. My father’s reach is long, his pockets deep, and his influence frightening. He’s not above lying to get what he wants.”
“Seems like a lot of effort to go to.” I mentally kick myself for how that sounds.
“I’m not flattered by his attention. Truthfully, I’m a little frightened.”
“Of your dad?”
“He doesn’t like being bested.”
“It sounds like you’re asking me to step into a war.”
“I’m asking you to marry me. To help me help you in a way that also removes my trust from his reach.”
“By putting me in the firing line.”
I watch her ponder that, the force of her teeth making her bottom lip pale. “No,” she says after a beat. “My father prefers to fight downward, not across. He won’t touch someone with your profile.”
“And you wouldn’t be telling me that just to get what you want?”
Her head rears back. “No, I wouldn’t. But the Troy I knew wouldn’t allow a bully to frighten him.”
I send her an unimpressed look.
“Seriously, I wouldn’t wish my father’s attentions on my worst enemy.”
“So you wouldn’t wish them on me. This is fucking nuts,” I add in a mutter.
“You should try living it. Imagine having the comfortable rug ripped out from under your feet.”
“Yeah, I wonder what that must feel like,” I retort flatly. It might not be exactly the same, but I know how injustice feels.
“He needs me to struggle. It’s his idea of punishment, and I can see what it’s all leading up to.” She wraps her arms around herself quite suddenly. “He’ll say I’m in need of supervision, that I can’t keep a roof over my own head. That I can’t hold down a decent job or manage my taxes. That I’m in debt. That I can’t look after my own health.” Every line of her body seems to tremble. “And then he’ll say that I’m too messed up to manage my trust. That’s what’s coming next.”
“Okay, so that sounds like a gothic novel.”
“It sometimes feels like I’m living in one. Especially when I need a man to solve my problems.” Now, that had teeth.
“You could’ve asked a woman to marry you.”
“I don’t know a woman desperate enough.”
I give a gravelly laugh.
“Marry me, and legally, I become your problem.”
“That’s not a great sales pitch. Unless that means I get to shove you in an asylum.” I glance around, wondering if I’m already there. “Or maybe an attic with a minder named Bertha.”
