Page 74 of Fake Wife
“What can I do for you, then?” I ask, turning and walking toward the kitchen. Perhaps it’s not wise to show your back to a man who wants to attack, but despite my spiking fear, I refuse to allow him to see it.
“My son is being very erratic this week,” he says, following me. I hear the clink of change, and I look back, seeing his hand in his pocket. The man is tall and muscled, has kept in great shape, but I suppose fucking two women for most of your life will give you all the exercise you need.
I scowl at him and toss the envelope onto the counter.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” I cross my arms and rest my hip on the counter, then uncross my arms. Too defensive.
Be smart. Where the hell is Caitlin? She could handle this easily. I summon what little I know of her and relax my posture. Fake, easy smile. My mouth feels numb. Like it’s turned to rubber.
God I suck at this.
“He’s resigned, making mistakes he’ll regret someday. I predict in about two years from Labor Day weekend?”
Blood drains from my face. It’s unavoidable. He knows. Of course he does. The man’s not an idiot.
“Again, I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Lane. And I’m also not sure why you’re here—”
He cuts me off with a slash of his hand through the air, silencing me with effectiveness I’ve not yet seen. I even know the man is a giant jerk and I still listen to him. “This is for you to sign,” he says, gesturing toward the envelope. “When my son comes to his senses, when he returns to follow a path he’s veering from for foolish reasons and an easy, albeit pretty, lay”—his gaze drops and scans my body. I want another hot shower—“I want to make sure he still has his future before him.”
My phone buzzes on the counter. I can’t handle the man’s leering gaze or the glint in his eye. He knows something I don’t. He glances at my phone but I don’t take my eyes off him as he slides the envelope my way.
The phone silences and Franklin picks up the envelope. “Don’t you want to see it? It’s not going to hurt you, it’s solely protecting Corbin.”
“Why do you suddenly care about protecting him now?”
His glare turns feral. “You know nothing,” he snaps, moving closer. His fingertips pound the packet and he shoves it in my direction. “You know nothing of my family, what I’ve done and will continue to do to protect the Lane name, and it will not be ruined by easy pussy that spreads her legs for money. I don’t know how much he’s given you for this ruse, but however else you’ve muddled his head with your sweet smiles and banging body, he will not be ruined when this is done.”
Ironic, considering I’ve been the one fearing ruination.
I stare at the envelope again and reach for it. If I listen to him, he’ll leave.
I’m sliding a thick stack of papers out of the envelope and my phone dances and buzzes all over the counter. I pick it up when I see Corbin’s name.
“Hello?” I say, my voice turning to ice and breaking on the word.
In large, bold letters, the wordsPRENUPTIAL AGREEMENTblare back at me like they’re shouting.
“Teagan? You okay? It’s me.”
I blink. Franklin is completely forgotten. “Yeah. What’s up?”
He sounds like he’s smiling. “Listen, I’ve got someone coming by to deliver some papers for you. No big deal, it’s just wedding stuff. Will you be there to sign it?”
Prenuptial. It’s common. So common. I shouldn’t be surprised. But his voice is weird. Excited. Like he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation, and why would this excite him? And why would Franklin be the one delivering it?
“Teagan?”
I shake my head. “Yeah?”
“What’s wrong?”
I run my fingertip over the bold letters. My heart breaking. Shattering. I’m not even certain why my reaction is so visceral. The shock of it all? I flip through the papers and find pages marked with tabs. All of them already signed with Corbin Lane’s signature.
My God. Why didn’t he at least bring this up first so I wasn’t so surprised? I don’t blame him. But after last night, it feels wrong. Like a betrayal. He loves me, but he doesn’t trust me?
“Nothing. And yeah, I think it’s here already.”
A gruff sound startles me and I look up. Franklin is still here, grinning a victory dance full of smugness and reading of pretentiousness.
