by Gephart, T
“My soon-to-be-wife, Tia, is insisting I sign a prenuptial agreement.” His hands balled into fists at his side while his jaw tightened. “I think planning for the end of a marriage before it’s even begun is bullshit and a bad idea. She went to Roman behind my back and had it drawn up.” A murderous look was fired at his brother, and suddenly the mysterious phone calls made sense.
“I told you, it’s not about planning for the end,” Roman snapped, frustration apparent on both sides. “She is just trying to protect you because she loves you. And I can respect that.”
“And I told you, I don’t need protecting,” he fired back, the nice guy he seemed to be a few moments ago disappearing as he started pacing like a caged lion.
“I love her.” He stopped, looking directly at his brother as he continued. “I am always going to love her, and nothing that ever happens is going to change that. So if it ends between us for some reason, she can have it all. I don’t give a shit. You think I’m going to care about how much money I have in the bank?”
It was clear that in front of me was not the Eric Larsson I’d seen in the movies. That guy was good looking, talented, hot beyond comprehension with more money than he could spend in one lifetime. But that Eric Larsson wasn’t in this room.
Instead, there was a man who was very much in love with a woman. And he didn’t want to enter into a lifelong commitment with an exit strategy.
The romantic in me wanted to weep, curl myself at his feet and ask if any of his brothers were as sweet and amazing as he was. Not Roman obviously, because we’d already established he was a jerk. But there were a few others, so I was still in there with a chance.
The lawyer in me, however, was horrified. Marriages broke up all the time, and while it was all fantastic when you were in love and happy, it could turn ugly on a dime. Which was all he’d probably end up with if he got divorced without a prenup.
“Eric, I can understand why you aren’t thrilled that your fiancée went to Roman.” I’d have preferred my loved one cozying up next to a cobra, but that was another story. “But I have to agree with him, you need to sign it.”
“She isn’t marrying me for my money.” His voice rose, deep lines of tension edging at his face. “We do not need this.”
“And no one is calling her a gold digger,” Roman added, continuing to be unhelpful. “This isn’t about that. If you love her as much as you say you do, you will sign it. She has already said she won’t marry you without it.”
Wow. Those were fighting words, and no wonder it looked like the war of Asgard was about to take place in Eric’s living room. Loki—Roman was definitely the evil brother—had seriously pissed off Thor, and it was probably wrong of me to be enjoying it.
“I’m not signing anything until someone other than Roman looks over it.” Eric’s eyes fell to me, the someone in question obviously being yours truly.
“She gets anything she wants. Anything.” Eric glared at his brother. “And the New York house is hers outright. Fuck, she can have this one too. And you will be the one to talk to her, not him.” He pointed at Roman, the anger still apparent before he turned back to me. “You are not my lawyer, you are hers, you got it? This is not about protecting me.”
I nodded, confident it was not going to be a problem. After all, I had no loyalties to either of them. “Yes, I can do that.”
“I mean it, Lauren.” Eric nailed me with a hard look. “Whatever she wants written in that thing is hers.”
“I am looking over it before you sign it.” Roman’s shoulders squared out, his tension obvious. “I’m still your fucking attorney.”
A silent dialogue passed between them, words I’m sure had already been said or would be later. And if Thor was about to rain down a shitstorm of pain and fury, Loki didn’t look scared.
“I’m not sure how friendly you and Roman are.” Eric gave up glaring at his brother to address me. “But in this, you are on opposites sides of the table. You have a problem with that?”
“Please,” I scoffed, unable to stifle the chuckle. “I don’t even like your brother, being friendly with him isn’t in my repertoire.”
“She’s right.” Roman shrugged. “She is more a pain in my ass than anything else.”
I smiled sweetly at Roman. “That would be because you’re a dick.”
“Excellent, you’re going to love Tia.” Eric clapped. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Eric disappeared, leaving me alone with Roman. The urge to punch him right in the junk was strong, but so was the desire to kiss him. I couldn’t decide which would give me greater satisfaction.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” I stared at him, the accusation thick in the air. “We’ve been working together for over a year and I didn’t even know your real last name.”
“Does it matter what my last name is? I’m still the same person.” He shrugged. “You know my reasons, and I stand behind them. And I’ll remind you that as Tia’s attorney you can’t break privilege, that includes who I am to her.”
I laughed, shaking my head that he’d assume I’d use the information against him. “I’ve never broken privilege and I’m not about to start now, asshole. But get ready, Roman Larsson, as you so helpfully pointed out, I am Tia’s attorney.”
He moved closer, his eyes filled with heat. For some sick reason fighting with each other was an aphrodisiac, and he was just as in to it as I was.
“Bring it, Harper.”
We stared each other down, the air crackling between us. And had I not been in his brother’s living room, minutes away from meeting a new client, I would have torn his clothes off and shown him exactly what I was bringing.
After this was over, we were definitely going back to my apartment.
TIA WAS A FIRECRACKER.
Slightly crazy with moderate success in her own right as a columnist, she was very clear about what she wanted.
“So, you work with Roman?” she asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. I had a hunch not a lot got past her.
“Yes, but don’t hold that against me.” I smiled as I continued to scribble on the notepad she’d provided. “Now, let’s get the terms straight so I can draw up a new agreement.”
We sat in a formal living area toward the front of the palatial home. Roman and Eric were at the other end of the house, hopefully putting on hold their Norse God war while I consulted with my new client.
The original prenuptial agreement had been compiled by Roman. And while it had been sensible—giving Tia a generous settlement should the marriage be dissolved—it gave her zero property entitlements and no claim to any of Eric’s future earnings regardless of how long they ended up being married.
I could see why Eric had been infuriated; the deal was reasonable, but not necessarily fair.
It was true that Tia was coming into the marriage with virtually no assets and little financial contributions, but she added value in other ways. She had taken over the running of the household, helped coordinate his schedule, and gave immeasurable moral and emotional support. All of those things meant she had less time to expand her own career and personal wealth development.
And while she insisted that she was happy, and that she had no aspirations to accept any of the book deals she’d been offered, she could have parlayed her modest column into a multimillion-dollar deal of her own.
There had even been interest to turn her unconventional love story—the ordinary girl who met her famous number one crush and they fell madly in love—into a movie. Again, something she’d declined. Not to mention she’d given up her life in New York and followed Eric to Los Angeles.
All those reasons combined deserved more than just money.
“So, under the new agreement, the house in Brooklyn is yours regardless of how long the marriage lasts.” As I spoke I made amendments to Roman’s agreement, the new one to be drawn up later. “And then there is a sliding scale on your settlement. That increases the longer you are together and if any children are produced fr
om the marriage. At a minimum you will walk away with ten percent, at most twenty-five.”
“It sounds so clinical.” She shook her head. “But I’m not entitled to the house. He bought it before we were even engaged. And twenty-five percent is not what I asked Roman for; we agreed that a lump sum would be fair, with alimony if we had kids. I get to keep any gifts, but I’m not doing this for money.”
“Okay.” I stopped writing, lowering my pen. “Roman is Eric’s attorney, which means his version of fair is incredibly slanted. And I know you aren’t after his money, that’s obvious considering you’re the one asking for this. But legally, this is what you are entitled to, and more importantly, if you want Eric to agree then we’re going to have to go in with a decent offer. He was willing to give you everything; he’s not going to sign something that doesn’t even give you a place to live.”
“He was so angry.” She looked at the papers in front of us. “I thought he was going to kill Roman.”
From what I could see of Roman’s family, they were . . . well normal for want of a better word. While he was a movie star, Eric didn’t come with the air of superiority that usually accompanied high-end clients. His relationship with Roman seemed similar to the one I shared with Morgan, affectionate with a healthy dose of sibling mischief underneath. No doubt their teenage years had been fun. And Tia . . . five minutes alone with her and you could tell she’d never do a thing to hurt Eric. I knew Roman would have seen that too. Loyalty and trust were things he valued more than anything, considering I had only just had a glimpse into his world now after knowing him for over a year.
“Roman evokes that reaction in a lot of people. Feelings of wanting to murder him, I mean.” I laughed, my own earlier thoughts of strangling him not far from my mind. “So don’t be too hard on your man, he’s just thinking like the rest of us. It’s good to see fame or family doesn’t make you immune.” I chuckled, wondering if we should start a support group and chant Kumbaya or some shit until murder impulses subsided.
“So, what happens now?” Tia folded her hands in her lap. “We’ve been arguing about this for three days straight, but I meant what I said about not getting married until this is signed.”
It had been the first thing she had told me when we sat down. That despite her looming wedding date, she wouldn’t say “I do” until he’d signed on the dotted line. I could usually sniff out a bluff, and this wasn’t one.
“Ordinarily I’d go higher than what we agreed, let opposing counsel argue and then settle on what we’ve laid out. But since your wedding is so soon, I’m going to give Roman our final offer and get it filed as soon as possible.”
I pushed the papers aside, the impersonality of it all so startling. And while I saw the necessity of it, it didn’t mean I didn’t have a heart.
“I know this seems really hardcore. The best-case scenario, the day you both sign is the last time either of you will see it again. But Roman and I are currently dealing with a high-profile divorce as we speak, and it can get ugly. It’s insurance, just like any other kind. You don’t drive a car intending to crash but you still have a policy, right?”
She laughed, her lips spreading into a genuine smile. “Yeah, I can see that.” She nodded, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hey, I know this is a weird request, but can you include in the alimony a clause where he has to supply me with one lipstick a month? When we first met I bought some insane amount of red lipstick and it became an inside joke. Hopefully, he’ll see the funny side of it, and maybe it will make him laugh.”
I picked up my pen, announcing it out loud as I added, “One lipstick a month.” I paused, thinking on what was best for my client. “We should probably add in a color preference too because men are hideously bad at a color wheel. It would suck if you ended up with something like coral, it just wouldn’t work with your skin tone.”
More laughing, this time from both of us as I made the final amendment.
There was a knock at the door, Eric and Roman entering after Tia had called out they could come in. It seemed in the great battle of Asgard, both had survived.
“You guys done?” Eric was the first to speak, the tension on his face still visible.
“We sure are.” I rose from the couch and gathered my papers. “I’ll finalize it and then give it to Roman for you to sign. I should have it back to you by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thank you.” Eric held out his hand. “And sorry you had to get dragged into this.”
“Hey, don’t thank me.” I returned his handshake, giving him a playful grin. “You haven’t seen it yet. There’s a lipstick clause, and it isn’t favorable for you.”
He laughed—his smile almost identical to his brother’s—dropping his hand as he sidled up to Tia. “Sounds like interesting reading. Now if you guys don’t mind, I’d like to put this behind us and concentrate on making up with my fiancée.”
“We’re leaving.” Roman placed his hand on my lower back. “We’ll be sending our respective bills in the morning.”
After a quick goodbye, Tia and Eric walked us back out to Roman’s car. It was startling how much had changed since we first arrived.
I bit my lip, sliding into the passenger seat as he joined me in the car.
“I understand why you didn’t tell me about your family. It can’t have been easy living in Eric’s shadow, especially considering how good-looking he is.” I fanned myself. “Are your other brothers hot as well?”
His lips fought the grin, spearing me with a look as he started the ignition. “Wow, that’s original. You can tell me how much better looking my brother is after I take you home and fuck you.”
“Who says that’s what we’re going to do?” I pretended to look horrified. “Besides, I’m starving, some loser took me out to dinner and then didn’t let me eat it.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining when I was eating you.” He laughed giving me a wicked grin.
“Just shut up,” I pushed playfully against his arm, “and we’re going to need to hit drive thru on the way back.”
He did as instructed for a change, passing a drive thru on the way back to my apartment. I was so hungry I ate in the car. He did the same, balancing his burger on his lap as he drove.
There was unspoken agreement when he’d parked the car.
I hadn’t invited him to come up with me, but I hadn’t asked him to leave either. And even though there was a part of me that simmered uncomfortably, wishing I knew more about him, it wasn’t that part that was currently in control.
It didn’t seem important, at least not for right now.
Funnily enough it didn’t get any more important as the night wore on either, any further talk about him and his family disregarded in favor of other things.
He was really good at other things.
Really, really good.
“It’s morning.” He kissed my lips, his hand sliding down my hip. “I should go home.”
“Yeah, you should.” I yawned, my body as well as my mind feeling exhausted. “Or not, I really don’t care either way.”
He laughed, his mouth pressed against my shoulder. “Your indifference is sexy as hell, but I’ve got a family breakfast with my mother later this morning. Something about her eldest son getting married has made her sentimental, and my presence is required.”
“Yeah, I can understand how that would be a foreign concept for you, being around people who are kind and love you.” I rolled over to face him. “Don’t let it go to your head, they probably tolerate you at best.”
He shook his head, biting back the grin. “Thanks for keeping my ego in check. I’ll be sure to call you if at anytime I start feeling too good about myself.”
My arms wrapped around his neck and I kissed him again. He didn’t flinch, kissing me back like it was the most normal thing in the world. And even though I didn’t want to admit it, him spending the night hadn’t been terrible. I wondered if he felt the same, and if that had been the reason he’d stayed.
I watched as he moved off the bed and grabbed his clothes, redressing for the second time in my room. Only this time he would be leaving, and I might not get to see him until Monday.
“I’ll email you the revised prenup in a few hours, give you a chance to go over it.” My eyes stayed on him while he pulled on his pants.
“It’s Saturday morning, why don’t you go back to sleep and then get it to me later this afternoon.” He finished buttoning his shirt. “I’ll email you if there are any problems.”
Ordinarily I wasn’t a huge fan of sleeping in. But as I stretched out in my bed, the side he’d just left still warm, it sounded like a fantastic idea.
I pulled up the covers and sighed. “Okay.”
“No argument?” His eyebrow rose, looking genuinely surprised.
“Just leave already,” I groaned, tossing a pillow at him. “I was in a good mood, why do you have to ruin everything?”
He caught the pillow, tossing it back so that it landed on the bed. “I’m not used to you being agreeable, I’m not sure I like it.”
“Momentary lapse in judgment.” I rolled my eyes. “Rest assured, it won’t happen again.”
He laughed, strolling over to my side of the bed, and kissed me one last time. “Enjoy your weekend. Stay out of trouble.”
“Back at you.” I finger waved before turning on my side, listening as he showed himself out and pulled the door closed behind him.
The room felt larger without him in it, the air noticeably cooler. I chalked it up to fatigue—or insanity—because no man could influence space and temperature with his sheer presence.
Ugh, I needed to go back to sleep.
As my eyes closed, I heard the creak of the front door open. Obviously, the lock hadn’t engaged properly on his way out—convenient, and not unlike him. It made me grin like an idiot, my heartbeat increasing just at the thought that he was coming back.
He hadn’t been able to leave after all.
Jerk.
“Couldn’t help yourself, huh?” I called out, my smile pressed against the pillow. “I knew you’d end up crawling back.”