Bad Boy (An Indecent Proposal) - J.C. Reed Page 0,44
my heart, his gray blue eyes both beautiful and shattering. “So, as you can see, we have more in common than you think,” he whispered. “We’ve both lost our parents thanks to Clint.”
I let out a shaky breath. Chase’s words felt raw, intimate. In fact, they were more intimate than anything he had ever told me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I had no idea.”
I wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, take away the pain, while another part of me demanded that I stay away.
He shrugged, as though his life story wasn’t a big deal. “It’s fine.” He looked away. “Now you know why I have to do it. My father was a victim. We all were. Believe it or not, I do care about you,” he said quietly. “But this is something I owe my family. Because everything he owns is connected to your inheritance, I can make him suffer. For once, I want him to feel the pain we felt. I want him to lose something he loves—and in his case that’s money.”
“That’s why you married me,” I said to process the news. Shaking my head, I poured myself another glass of wine and gulped it all down. Only after the liquid had traveled down my throat, leaving a bitter trail in its wake, did I turn to face Chase.
“You wasted your time,” I said softly. “Even if I wanted to help, all I get is a quarter. If you had been upfront with me before, I would have been able to help you. You shouldn’t have lied and tricked me into believing you cared for me. I would have understood. But now the whole thing was in vain. I signed an agreement before I married you, so the inheritance is practically his.”
“Is it?” Chase counteracted.
“Is what?” I asked, confused.
“Is the inheritance still his if he never received the signed agreement?”
My eyes narrowed as I took in his words. Was it my imagination or had his expression softened?
“What do you mean?” I asked. “I gave him the signed agreement before we got married.”
“That may be true, but what if the contract you signed disappeared?” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Maybe it never existed. Would you say it was still valid?”
I shook my head, confused.
“Of course it exists. I signed it.” I stared at him. “What are you getting at? It sounds as though you’re trying to pull me into that gray legal area with you, and I’m not interested in getting involved.”
He leaned back against the seat. “I might or might not have it.”
My heart skipped a beat. Then another. I felt as though I was stuck on a roller coaster ride and everything was going too fast.
“You do not have it,” I said slowly. “Because if you did—”
It would be illegal—just like about everything else that involved Chase.
“Okay, maybe I don’t have it, but I did until it burned.”
“You broke into Clint’s home and stole the contract?” I asked in disbelief.
He regarded me with an amused glint in his eyes. “Not into his home, but his lawyer’s.”
I let out a brief laugh.
Holy shit.
The guy was trouble.
“That breaks the law on so many levels.” I shook my head, unable to comprehend the way his mind worked. “Chase, you’re a lawyer. At least that’s what you’re claiming to be. Why would you do that? Aren’t you supposed to stick to the rules?”
He cocked a brow. “Do I look like a cop? No, I’m a lawyer, and in all the years I worked as one, I learned a lot. Sometimes, to achieve a goal, you have to break the rules,” he said. “Everyone does it because the law’s corrupt. Ask any lawyer and he’ll tell you the same thing. Clint doesn’t have the right to take what’s yours. He had no right to take what was ours. Now that I’m your husband, I have the power and the right to take legal action against him.”
“Was that really your plan all along?”
“To contest your mom’s will? Yes.” He nodded his head, the motion strengthening his words.
“Even if I wanted to, I can’t allow it,” I said frightened at the thought of welcoming more chaos into my life.
“When I said you won’t have a choice, I meant it, Laurie,” he said. “You should have asked for a prenup. Without one, I have access to everything that belongs to you, unless you get a divorce, in which case you won’t see your mom’s letters.”
Maybe what he said was true, and maybe it wasn’t.
For