My phone buzzes again, and I take a look. It’s Shaun’s twentieth attempt at trying to talk to me. He’s sent me hundreds of texts, all basically saying the same thing—call me. I make a mental note to look up how to have his number blocked; I don’t need the aggravation of a persistent ex. Our relationship’s over, just like he wanted.
> The elevator doors open with a soft ping, and we step out into the reception area. It’s discreet, but also warm and welcoming with soft green and earth-tone colors.
I try to put a few feet of distance between us, but Ryder is having none of it. He comes over and slips an arm around my waist like a besotted fiancé. He feels amazing next to me, and it’s horrible—like torturing myself with a chocolate covered strawberry I can’t eat.
A short brunette in her late thirties rises from the receptionist seat, her cheeks flushed. “Mr. Reed?”
“You can call me Ryder,” he says with a wink. “Is Samantha ready?”
“Of course.” Her gaze is glued to him, and I’m tempted to offer to wipe the drool on her chin. “This way.”
Samantha Jones is a killer attorney who handles divorces for a lot of high-powered, high net-worth individuals. The conference room is large; an oak table dominates in the center, surrounded by comfy-looking wheeled chairs with armrests. Sets of law books fill the built-in shelves, and a few objets d’art liven up the recessed nooks.
Samantha comes in, her manicured hand clutching an accordion folder. She’s almost six feet tall in her black heels. You wouldn’t know that she’s in her late forties unless you read her bio. Her dirty blond shoulder-length hair is artfully tossed into a trendy “just rolled out of the bed” look. She’s monochromatic in a white top and a black skinny skirt. Lean muscles in her tanned legs flex as she walks toward us to shake hands.
Her wide-set brown eyes betray nothing as she smiles at us. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Ryder says with an easy grin.
I give her a platitude through a dry throat.
“Anything to drink?” she says.
“I’m good with mineral water.” Ryder glances at me.
“Fine.”
“Great!” She pours water into our glasses and sits down, then pushes two copies of the prenup our way. “It’s pretty standard, nothing out of the ordinary. Each of you keep what you bring to the marriage when you separate, so we’ll have to make sure to disclose all our assets. Anything you acquire jointly after the marriage will be split fifty-fifty provided that the marriage lasts at least twelve full months. Any questions?” she asks, looking at me.
I shake my head. It sounds about right.
“In the case of children…” She stops. “You said you’d think on this point. So. What do you plan to do?”
“Paige can keep them,” Ryder says. “Full custody. I’ll provide child support as needed, plus a trust of twenty-five million dollars for the kid.”
I gasp. “What?”
His expression is one of very mild surprise. “I told you already.”
I remember, but I thought he was just being outrageous for the sake of being outrageous!
Samantha continues, “Then there’s the matter of alimony. Ten million, provided that the marriage lasts at least twelve full months.”
I must’ve not had enough tea or something. I didn’t sleep much last night. “Wait. What did you say?”
“Alimony. Ten million dollars, assuming you both stay married for at least twelve full months, and the divorce isn’t caused by you cheating on him or something like that. Basically, irreconcilable differences is the only way for the alimony to be collectible. And the trust for any children will be fully controllable by Ryder until they come of age.”
I shake my head. “But—”
“It’s set.” Samantha puts her hand on the table, fingers splayed. “You can’t ask for more even if you stay married for years and years before you split.”
“I don’t understand.”
She gives me a bland smile that silently rebukes me for my apparent greed. “It’s really quite generous, since you probably aren’t bringing many assets to the marriage. Almost everything of value seems to belong to Ryder. Regardless, you need a lawyer to go over the agreement with you.”
“I don’t need a lawyer.” I wish Ryder and I were alone so we could talk about this “alimony.” What is he thinking, telling her to give me that ridiculous sum on top of the trust for the child? And what is this thing about child support? He knows the baby I’m carrying isn’t his.
“Yes, you do. I won’t have the prenup invalidated because you didn’t have proper legal representation. If you need a referral, try Craig Richmond. He’s quite good.”