Then I remember Robert might be there.
Shit.
“The family foundation is partly a charity and partly a political vessel. My uncle supports certain causes to get the breaks he needs on Capitol Hill.”
I yawn again so widely that my jaw cracks. That’s how intrigued I am by Drake family politics.
Neil picks up the post-nup and tears it in half, loudly. Then he produces his phone and hits a button. I hear a dial tone.
“Evening, Neil,” the lawyer’s voice says through the speaker a moment later.
“Witherspoon,” Neil barks. “We read this document. And I honestly can’t understand why you bothered. Is this some kind of sick opening gambit?”
“No,” he grunts. “This was your uncle’s language. He’s very adamant about most of these clauses.”
Neil stares at the phone as if he could incinerate it with his eyes. “We’re not signing.”
“Think carefully before you make that call. Your uncle will use this against you.”
Neil’s head jerks back, like he’s been slapped. “Really? You’re his heavy, now? Did I piss off the Godfather? Am I going to wake up with a bloody horse’s head in my bed?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” the lawyer rumbles. “I’m just reminding you that he’d do anything for his company. And your marriage threatens the family’s hold on voting rights. So you can expect that he’ll take action to protect his shares and his interests in the foundation.”
“What kind of action?” I whisper. Because that sounds bad.
“He’ll go after Neil’s board seat,” the lawyer says. “I’m just stating facts.”
“Here’s a fact,” Neil spits. “You’re fired.”
The lawyer sighs. “You can’t actually fire me. You know that, right?”
“I do know that,” Neil clips. “But if you were my personal attorney, you’d be fired for insulting Charli like this.”
“We offered her a quarter million dollars!” the lawyer booms.
“An insult that comes with two-hundred-fifty large is still an insult. Now go bill my uncle for your time and tell him to get fucked.” Neil taps the screen, and the call is disconnected.
I let out a long breath. “Okay. Wow. You just fired the guy who was going to fix this!” My voice gets a little high and crazy. “We’re still married, Neil! Maybe I should have just signed.”
“No!” he thunders, rising to his feet. He steps around the coffee table and begins to pace the vast expanse of his living room. “No way. We’re not signing that thing. I wouldn’t lower myself to that.”
“But what’s the alternative?” I squeak. “You can’t lose your father’s company over this. It’s not worth it.”
“Isn’t it? My uncle is a bully. He’s been controlling my mother and sister for years.”
“But how does this end?” I fret. “The lawyer made it sound like you could lose everything just because we got drunk in Vegas.”
He stops pacing and turns to me. “No way, Charli. Even if I lose my seat on the board, I’ll still keep most of my shares.”
“Oh.” I know nothing about Neil’s strange life. “But that’s still bad, right?”
He shrugs. “It depends on your point of view. My uncle hates me, and the feeling is mutual. I’ve been trying to get him to step down as my mother’s trustee. I’ve been trying to make his company more ecologically responsible. I’ve gotten nowhere. But now that could change.”
“Because of me? Not likely.”
He stops pacing. He glances out the window, toward the Manhattan Bridge in the distance. His handsome face says he’s thinking. Hard.
I find myself holding my breath, and I’m not even sure why.
“I have a plan,” he says quietly. He turns around and pins me with his hazel-eyed stare. “I know how to win. I’ll beat him at his own game.”
“How? Lay it on me.”
“We have to stay married.”
EIGHT
MRS. CORNELIUS DRAKE THE THIRD
Charli
“What?” I gasp. “I could swear you just said we have to stay married.”
“I did.” He crosses his arms over his sculpted chest and looks down at me. There’s humor in his appraising gaze. “You have to be my wife.”
“What?” I shriek. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Exactly!” He grins.
My head begins to pound, because it’s possible he’s lost his mind. “This isn’t funny, Neil. Do you hear me laughing?”
“I’m not joking. I’m finished with my uncle and his stooge of a son.”
“Finished… how?” I ask. Because you can’t change who your family is. If you could, I would have already done that.
“They think I’ll just roll over and do whatever they ask. Because of the power and the money.”
“It’s always about the money,” I agree.
“And it’s not worth it,” he says passionately. “I’m done. I just need a little help from you.”
“What kind of help?” I’m so lost now.
He leans down, his hands on the coffee table, his arm muscles bulging. “My family sent us an offensive post-nup, because they’re treating me like a child and you like a leech. But we aren’t either of those things.”
“Yeah, true,” I admit. “But it’s not really about me. They don’t know me.”
“But they know me. And they obviously think I’m dumb enough to pick up a conniving stranger in Vegas and sign away my life to her. Can you picture me doing that?”
“Uh…” I look up into his expressive face, and I’m not sure what to say. “No. Of course not. But if you’d asked me yesterday morning whether I thought you and I could accidentally get married, I would have said no.”
His smile flashes and disappears so quickly that I wonder if I’ve imagined it. “Fair point. But this isn’t the first time my family has assumed the worst and then tried to steamroll me. I can’t do this anymore.”
He casually picks up the sheaf of papers and tears the whole pack one more time down the center.
“Um, Neil? You ripped up the divorce page, too. We need that one. I never agreed to stay married. You said you’d fix this.”
“I know, and I will. But first I’d like to take a different approach. I want us to remain married for a short time without any kind of written agreement.”
“But where does that leave us?” I ask, trying not to panic. That’s just a ridiculous idea. Me? Married to Cornelius Drake III?
“I’ll retain my own legal counsel,” Neil says slowly. “I’ll quietly ask some friends to refer me to a divorce specialist.”
“Oh.” I let out a sigh of relief. Now we’re getting somewhere. “Won’t that cost a wad and take longer?”
“Doesn’t matter. We’ll still be divorced by the end of playoffs season.” He sits down beside me, propping his feet up on the coffee table, his long legs bent. He’s wearing shorts, so I can see the crisp outline of his thigh muscles above his bare knees.