A Moment Like You (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers #2) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,27
sure they are self-sufficient, and add enough attractions so we can become the number one tourist spot in Oregon—or the Northwest.”
“Fuck, I’m just planning on building a small house, growing my practice, and enjoying my kid and my woman. In the meantime, you are creating a conglomerate,” he says, with a chuckle.
“Am I still going to be the godfather of the child?” I ask because Blaire isn’t a fan.
He pats my shoulder. “Right now, she hates you.”
“Understandable.”
“It’d be easier if you explained to her what’s really happening. Just think of everything you’d achieve if everyone knew the truth,” he suggests. “Blaire loves you. You’re like her big brother. She’ll forgive you once Sophia does.”
“Probably, but I won’t do it because… This is new to me,” I explain. “I don’t know what’s happening or what to expect. Having someone like Blaire meddling might just confuse me, and the situation.”
“I meant talk to Sophia, but maybe you can get Blaire on your side,” he recommends.
“Your woman is going to boss me around. She’s not going to understand how I function.” I shake my head just imagining her waking me up at six in the morning to coach me on how to be a good boyfriend. “Do you know that my dates sign a contract before we start anything, and it even has an expiration date?”
He laughs. “You’re kidding?”
I shake my head. “No. My grandfather instituted it when I graduated from high school. I’m pretty sure he thought that while I was attending boarding school, I had no access to women.”
We both laugh.
“He probably thought I was a virgin until I got his blessing to use my dick,” I joke, kind of, because really the man thought I did only as he said.
“You never mentioned any of that before. I remember the crazy orgies during study hall, but never a contract,” he jokes, but he’s closer to the truth than he thinks. I just don’t tell him.
“It was lame. Why would I tell you about those arrangements?”
“Because we used to talk about shit like that,” he says.
“My life didn’t sound cool. Every date I had back then was fixed by Cyril or my mother. It was nothing like the stories you and Pierce told.” I focus my attention on the lake and take a couple of breaths before I look at him. “Martina Edelstein.”
“Why does that name sound familiar?” he asks.
“She’s the heir of Edelstein Electronics,” I answer. “We have an arrangement. We’re getting married when she turns thirty-two. Her father is giving me a half-billion dollars as a wedding present. If either one of us breaks the contract, we have to pay the other ten million dollars. The prenup agreement is already set. My grandfather had it drafted when he found the perfect woman for me. We’ll have only one child who will be the heir of Merkel. Neither the kid, Martina, nor I will have access to the Edelstein assets. That’s for her brothers to split. Her older sister is already married under a similar arrangement.”
“What’s Sophia’s role in this joyful transaction?”
“I don’t know,” I answer. “Pierce and Vance said it well earlier. She deserves better than an Aldridge. Maybe I should just leave her alone.”
“Henry, I don’t think anyone would care for her the way you do. I don’t dare to say the L-word because I think you need to learn the real meaning of it. What you’re doing isn’t exactly love.”
He blows some air and scrubs his face.
“Marrying because it’s convenient though…that’s fucked up,” he states. “When did you give up on reaching for what you want from life?”
I haven’t but… “Have you been listening to me? I’m pre-engaged, emotionally incapacitated, and the woman I…”
It’s hard to finish the sentence because I’m not even sure what I feel for her so I just say, “Sophia hates me.”
“I don’t think your problem is that you’re pre-engaged. Ten million dollars is spare change for you,” he glances at me. “If I were you, I’d be getting rid of Martina and your arrangement before you complicate this even more. Now, the real issue is that Sophia might have a hard time seeing past the shit you’re pulling right now which is completely due to your emotional constipation.”
Resting my arms on my thighs, I take a few deep breaths as I look at the grass. “What do I do?”
“Try to behave less like a robotic asshole and more like a human,” he suggests and laughs.