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“Right.”This was good. Keep it business like. Ignore the fact that if you move your leg just a little, you can brush those beautiful ankles.“More commonly known as a pre-nuptial agreement.”
Her eyes widened. “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t have anything you can take in a divorce.”
“I’m not planning on divorcing you,” he said quietly, not giving a hint of a smile at her attempt at a joke. “Not for a long time, anyway.”
He saw the way she bristled and felt a swing of guilt. Did she hate the idea of this marriage so much?
“I don’t want your money.” The words shook a little. “If I’d been interested in that, don’t you think I’d have hit you up for child support before this?”
“Yes,” he agreed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He loaded up the document. “This isn’t about protecting my assets from you.”
“Isn’t that the point of pre-nups?”
“They have a number of purposes. Delineating assets is one of them.”
“I just told you, I don’t have any assets,” she said with a lift of her shoulders, and he felt a deep, guttural ache at her acceptance of that. What would her life have been like if they hadn’t met? If she hadn’t fallen pregnant with Charlotte and had to abandon her plans to study?
“What would you like to drink?”
She blinked, the question catching her off guard. “I – don’t know.” She pulled a face. “Whatever you’re having?” He lifted a hand to call a waiter’s attention. A man appeared almost immediately. Grayson ordered a bottle of Riesling then slid his phone across the table.
“Read this. Take your time.”
He settled back in his chair, allowing himself the indulgence of simply watching as her eyes flitted to his phone screen. When she concentrated, her lower lip jutted out, her nostrils flaring.
The document was seven pages long – printed – so he knew it would take some time. Their wine was brought and without taking her eyes off the screen, she reached for the glass, sipped it, sipped it some more, then replaced the glass. It was impossible not to feel a little trill of anticipation as she got further into the document. He’d been very specific about how he wanted things laid out. His lawyers had urged him to be more reserved with his opening offer, but Gray wasn’t interested in messing around. This wasn’t a normal negotiation. He knew what Abby’s happiness was worth – and why. She was Charlotte’s mom, and he needed to give her whatever was necessary to ensure Charlotte would never have a reason to question if he’d treated her mother well.
Finally, she put the phone down, focusing on a point over his shoulder as she sipped some more of the wine, almost finishing the glass.
Only then did her eyes slide to his.
They were the most fascinating shade of brown. Caramel and honey, flecked with sunshine.
“No.”
The single word was the very last thing he’d been expecting. Hell, he’d hoped for something like relief. Even gratitude or happiness.
“It’s fairly standard.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“You’re going to be my wife. It’s unreasonable to presume our finances would be kept separate.”
Her cheeks paled.
“Why?”
“Because, you’re hardly going to keep working as a caterer. You’ll need access to money of your own.”
“But this wouldn’t be money of my own,” she stressed. “And what the hell do you mean, I can’t keep working?”
“Working, fine. But waitressing?”
“Why not?” She challenged, squaring her shoulders.
“Is that what youwantto do?”
She finished her wine and seconds later, the waiter appeared, topping up her glass. Abby didn’t look at him, so Gray wasn’t sure she’d even noticed.
