"You’ve had time to think." Dorian said.
"I have to talk to my family."
"You have to talk to your family about staying married? Why?"
"I told you. I have a fiancé. My family are expecting me to sort this out as quickly as possible," Naomi continued.
Dorian placed his coffee on the counter. "Six months is the quickest this can be solved. So, I suggest you take the day off work and discuss this with your family."
She returned her attention to the contract.
Fine.
She would read it. Then she would talk to Richard. And after that... God only knew. Her eyes moved down the page.
Duration: Six months. The parties shall reside together for the duration of the agreement.
"Must live together?"
Dorian looked at her over his cup. "Yes."
"You didn’t mention that."
"I assumed it was obvious."
"How exactly was that obvious?"
"Did you think we would be married and living on separate continents?"
Naomi stuck her tongue out at him then went back to reading.
Marriage must be acknowledged publicly. Mutual fidelity must be maintained throughout the contractual period.
Apparently, despite the fact that neither of them wanted this marriage, neither of them would be allowed to sleep with anyone else for six months.
Not that Naomi was planning to.
A financial compensation of five hundred thousand dollars shall be paid upon successful completion of the contractual period—
Her finger landed on the line. "Five hundred thousand?"
Dorian barely reacted. "Hmmm."
Naomi looked back down at the page. Her heart had started beating faster. Five hundred thousand dollars. She tried to remain calm.
Tried very hard. But her mind was racing. Five hundred thousand. Surely that would be enough. It had to be.
Her father’s debts had followed her for years, swallowing everything she earned and somehow never shrinking enough to free her.
But half a million dollars? That could wipe everything out.
Couldn’t it?
Even Richard couldn’t possibly tell her that wasn’t enough. She could finally stop working two jobs.
Stop calculating every bill. Stop worrying every time her phone buzzed because it might be another message demanding money.
She could breathe. And she didn’t have to marry... Naomi frowned. What was his face again? At the end of six months, Naomi would be both maritally and financially free. She looked down at the contract again.
There were still more clauses.
The agreement itself had to remain private.
Details of the arrangement could not be shared with anyone, including family.
Naomi slowed at that one.
Including family.
That would complicate things. Richard would want answers. She kept reading.
Any information learned during the marriage could not later be used against the other party.
Deliberate public humiliation would count as a breach of contract.
That one made sense considering Dorian’s current relationship with the press. Then she reached the final section.
At the end of the six months, Naomi would receive a monthly allowance classified as alimony.
More money?
Dorian was either insane or completely serious about making sure Divorce Number Four did not destroy whatever dignity he had left.
Naomi closed the file slowly. "You missed two things."
Dorian looked up from his coffee. "What?"
"Separate bedrooms and no sex."
he leaned forward slightly. "Who are you afraid of, Mrs. Heathcliffe? Yourself or me?"
Naomi opened her mouth, then immediately glanced in Adrian’s direction. He was seated only a few feet away.
Exactly the audience she needed while discussing whether she could survive six months in the same house as a man she had already slept with once and apparently still wanted to strangle or kiss depending on the hour.
Naomi shut her mouth. "I’m going to go get dressed."
Dorian’s mouth curved faintly.
Coward.
She turned toward the doorway.
"I’ll leave you a key card here. Don’t wait up. I’ll be late."
She gave a small wave over her shoulder and disappeared from the kitchen. Dorian watched her leave.
Then he picked up the contract and handed it to Adrian.
"Make the adjustments."
Adrian accepted the file. Dorian finished the rest of his coffee.
"Look into this so-called fiancé. I don’t think she’s lying."
"I didn’t find anything, sir."
"Look closer."
There was something about the whole situation that bothered him. Naomi did not behave like a woman happily engaged.
She barely spoke about the man. And yet she seemed terrified of what would happen if the divorce did not happen quickly.
Something did not add up.
"Check in with her family," Dorian said. "Discreetly, of course."
Adrian nodded. "I’ll see what I can find."
Dorian picked up his phone and checked the time. "Right, time to go." He clapped his hands once and headed out.
*****
Richard was buttoning his shirt when he heard the commotion outside.
"Aunt Naomi!"
"You were on TV!"
His children’s excited voices carried all the way into the bedroom. His expression hardened as he pushed the last button through its hole.
Richard reached for his watch. Things were becoming complicated much faster than he liked. Naomi was supposed to get rid of Dorian Heathcliffe.
She was supposed to marry the man Richard had chosen for her, clear the financial problem hanging over her head, and continue doing exactly what she had been told.
Instead, somehow, she had married one of the most dangerous lawyers in New York. Richard knew the Heathcliffe name.
Everyone in certain circles did. Maurice Heathcliffe had spent decades as one of those lawyers wealthy families called when they wanted problems handled without their names appearing beside those problems.
Maurice had catered almost exclusively to the rich and powerful until his recent retirement, leaving Dorian as one of the leading partners at Heathcliffe & Associates.
And Dorian was worse. Maurice had always possessed some degree of restraint. His son had built a reputation around winning.
Richard had no interest whatsoever in having a man like that examining Naomi’s finances too closely.
Because if Naomi mentioned anything about their arrangement— Questions might follow. Questions Richard absolutely did not need.
He straightened his collar and headed downstairs. By the time he entered the main living room, his children had already surrounded Naomi. His fifteen-year-old son was talking over his thirteen-year-old daughter, both of them excitedly recounting how they had seen their aunt on television.
Naomi stood between them, smiling awkwardly. "Yes, I know. Unfortunately, I was there when it happened."