The Proposal - Kitty Thomas Page 0,44

lock me in a tower to prevent my escape. Charming. He actually has a tower on his estate. Two, in fact. Soren is every little girl's fairy tale gone wrong.

I take a steadying breath, willing myself to not start crying at this table. Soren is sitting to my right. His hand covers mine, and then his thumb begins to move almost imperceptibly in soothing strokes over the back of my hand. I look up to find those deep dark fathomless pools of green. No one but this man has eyes this color and they suck me into their depths each time I fall helplessly into his gaze.

I had been so sure about all three of these men when they were just some guys I was dating. I'd eliminated so many others before them. I'd dropped every man who didn't treat me with respect, wanted to split the bill, or had some obvious deep-seated and barely disguised misogyny or weird mommy issues.

Griffin, Dayne, and Soren all got past every test I set up. They each slipped beneath my radar, and charmed their way into my heart. They were such gentlemen, so patient, so respectful, so generous and kind. Well, Griffin and Dayne were. It was touch-and-go with Soren for a bit.

And now here we are.

I want to run and never stop running. At the same time, my body longs to be claimed by theirs in such an all-encompassing way that I can't do anything but sit frozen in place, waiting for my fate to unfold according to their designs, waiting to read their terms in stark black and white.

I don't even know why they're putting me through this meeting except for the sheer pleasure of humiliating me. I fucking hate all three of them right now. I can't believe I thought I loved them little more than two months ago.

I can't believe I still thought I loved Soren when we made the fake video proposal. I glance down at the Tiffany diamond on my finger. The proposal may have been a fake, but this ring most certainly isn't. I want to believe in this fairy tale so badly. I think back to all the losers who wasted my time playing boyfriend while trying to gain wifey privileges from me. And I wonder if they were really so bad after all. Because this feels so much worse—this lie they've sucked me into. And I can't understand why they're doing it. Are they just that bored with the luxury and ease of their lives?

Maybe they do all three in fact want me. Maybe their declarations of love were once sincere. But they didn't give me a choice in any of this, and somehow ever since that night in Capri Bella it feels as though our relationship is some sort of twisted revenge against me.

“Ms. Fairchild all the contracts have been finalized. We just need you to read over them with your attorney, initial in all the marked places, sign, and date. Then we can all get out of here,” one of the attorneys says.

Finalized. The contracts have been finalized. Yes, I know this is not in any way normal. That's not how these things work. It's supposed to be a negotiation. I'm supposed to receive an opening offer where I mark out the changes I'd like to see, and we discuss things until we come to an agreement that works for everyone. But no, this is only a formality. It's a boilerplate contract—the kind you sign as is or walk away, except I only have that first option.

My hands shake as I read the contracts. There are ways in which they're all the same, and ways in which each is unique, but all of them cover the basics of property and how it will be divided should these unions break.

Even though I can't leave, the attorneys don't know that.

So according to the contracts, if I leave, I get nothing. If I cheat, I get nothing—though I can't imagine the ravenous sexuality of a woman who would need more than three dicks to service her. It's all quite comical. Weirdly, there has been a notation inside each of these contracts that explicitly states sex with any of these three men isn't considered cheating on the others. I wonder how that would hold up in court for the pre-nup?

Probably it wouldn't, but since it is an agreement we've made beforehand and the pre-nup itself isn't the marriage, maybe? Who knows? I'm sure they've come up