The Proposal - Kitty Thomas Page 0,43

own car and I'm sure she's going to leave, but she comes back with three books full of wedding invitations to choose from. There's a trendy high-end local designer option, Vera Wang, as well as Crane and Co.

“I need a decision on your invitation design by the end of the week. I would go with Crane,” she says, piling them onto my passenger seat and closing the door. I'm sure the weight will make the electronic sensor in the seat think there's a passenger, and I'll have to click the seatbelt around them to keep the beeping light off my dashboard.

“Why Crane?” I ask.

“Tradition. Soren loves tradition.”

This confirms my suspicion that she and Soren know each other somehow and he didn't just randomly pick her out of a list of wedding planners.

She tells me this about Soren and tradition like it's some new revelation. I fight not to roll my eyes at her. I know it sounds stupid and paranoid, but there's this small part of me that thinks Patrice is some kind of spy and that she'll report back anything I say to him.

She continues on, starting to sound a little like Macy. “Do you not understand the history of Crane? This paper is used for our currency. It's 100% cotton. Paul Revere used it. Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt used it. Even the Queen of England has favored this brand.”

“Why even give me the other books then, if everybody's so sold on Crane?”

She shrugs and sighs. “It's your day.” She says this almost half-heartedly, and I wonder if she's got stock in Crane.

“Oh and do be sure to go with the engraved stationery. This is very important. Under no circumstances should you go with thermography. I don't care if there are more color options. This isn't a high school bake sale; it's your wedding.”

I sigh. Apparently this woman thinks I'm some country bumpkin who needs to be schooled in these things.

“I need you up bright and early tomorrow to meet with the florist. And dear, do try to get a handle on what kind of dress you'd like. It's the most important part after all. All eyes will be on you. And to be honest I'm not even sure if it's safe to decide on the flowers if the dress isn't in place. We only have five months,” she reminds me.

Yes, the countdown clock has been running through my head since the date was set, but thanks for that update, Patrice.

17

Livia

The Pre-nup

Four months ago. February.

When I walk into the conference room of Blake, Darcy, Henley, and Associates, seven men—mine, plus attorneys—turn their gazes to me in one sharp predatory swivel of heads. All eyes lock on mine as though honing in on a target to destroy. They stand as a collective when I step into the room, and it's as though the room itself takes a deep, cleansing breath. Soren pulls out the burgundy leather chair at the head of the table. I murmur a thank you and sit in it.

It's strange because this seat should be the position of power in a room, but in this case it isn't because the person with the least power is sitting in it. Soren, Griffin, and Dayne each have their own attorney to handle their own legal contracts with me. Today we are finalizing a complicated web of private contracts and trusts that ostensibly protect all parties.

Their attorneys are the three gentlemen whose names are on the sign out front. My attorney sits to my left. He isn't with this firm, but was hired by Soren. And I get the distinct impression that he takes his real marching orders from Soren—not me—though we've all decided to engage in this fiction that I'm being represented in a true and legal way.

I know this is not normal. When signing a pre-nup, my own interests should be defended. I should have a real attorney who only answers to me. But I know I have no negotiating or bargaining power here. I know these men would make good on their threats. I can never break these contracts, so any argument over the sordid details is the equivalent of crying and flailing about while being walked down death row. All it will get me is embarrassment.

This is only a formality to protect them if they ever decide they're finished with me. In private last night, Soren actually made reference to the crazy attic wife in Jane Eyre—intimating that if I tried to leave them, he'd literally