relationship. She’d agreed to marry him, and marry him she would. He didn’t question why it was suddenly so important that the wedding take place, but he’d be damned if he let another man call the shots.
With no hesitation, he clicked on the delete button and then followed it to the trash bin to permanently delete it from her computer. Afterward, he pulled her e-mail back up and then replaced the laptop on her bed, making sure it was far enough from the edge so that it wouldn’t topple over.
For a long moment, he stood by her bed and stared down at her sleeping face. Drawn to the pensive expression, even in rest, he touched a few strands of her blond hair, smoothing them from her cheek.
What demons existed in her life? She didn’t trust him. Not that he blamed her, but it went beyond anger or a sense of betrayal. She wore shadows like most women wore make-up. Somewhere, some way, someone had hurt her badly. They had that in common.
As much as he’d like to swear never to hurt her and to protect her from those who would, he knew that if she’d lied to him about the child, that he’d crush her without a second thought.
Chapter Eight
Jewel studied the unsmiling face of the man she’d chosen to represent her interests and wondered if any lawyer had a sense of humor or if they were all cold, calculating sharks.
But then she supposed when it came to her future and that of her child, she wanted the biggest, baddest shark in the ocean.
“The agreement is pretty straightforward, Miss Henley. It is in essence a prenuptial agreement which states that Mr. Anetakis’s assets remain his in the event of a divorce and that yours remain yours.”
Jewel snorted in amusement. What assets? She didn’t have a damn thing, and Piers knew it.
“What else?” she asked impatiently. With a man like Piers, nothing could be as simple as it appeared. There were strings, hidden provisions. She just had to find them. “I want a complete explanation, line by line.”
“Very well.”
He shoved his glasses on and picked up the sheaf of papers as he took his seat again.
“Mr. Anetakis will provide a settlement for you regardless of the paternity of the child you carry. If DNA testing proves the child his, then he will retain custody of the child in the event of a divorce.”
Her mouth fell open. “What?” She made a grab for the paper her lawyer held, scanning the document until she found the clause he referred to.
“He’s out of his damn mind. There is no way in hell I’ll sign anything that gives up custody of my child.”
“I can strike the clause, but it’s possible he won’t agree.”
She leaned forward, her breath hissing through her teeth. “I don’t give a damn what he agrees to. I won’t sign it unless this so-called clause is removed in its entirety.”
Furious, she stood and snatched the paper back as the lawyer reached for it. “Never mind. I’ll see to it myself.”
She stormed out of the lawyer’s office into the waiting room where Piers sat. He was sitting on the far side, his laptop open and his cell phone to his ear. When he looked up and saw her, he slowly closed the laptop.
“Is there a problem?”
“You bet there is,” she said behind gritted teeth.
She thrust the offending piece of paper at him, pointing to the custody clause.
“If you think I’m signing anything that gives away custody of my child, you’re an idiot. Over my dead body will I ever be separated from my child. As far as I’m concerned, you can take this…this prenuptial agreement and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.”
He raised one dark eyebrow and stared back at her in silence.
“You don’t seriously think that I would give up custody of my child, do you? If indeed it turns out I am the father.”
She threw up her hands in exasperation. “You just don’t miss a chance to take your potshots at me. I’m well aware of the fact that you don’t believe this child is yours. Believe me, I get it. Reminding me at every opportunity just serves to further piss me off. And haven’t you ever heard of a thing called joint custody? You know, that thing called compromise, where the parents consider what’s best for the child and agree to give her equal time with her parents?”
“If the child is mine, I don’t intend to see her on a part-time basis, nor do I intend I should have to work around your schedule. I can certainly provide more for her than you can. I’m sure she’d be much better off with me.”
She curled her fingers into a tight fist, crumpling the document as rage surged through her veins like acid.
“You sanctimonious bastard. Where do you get off suggesting that my child would be better off with you? Because you have more money? Well big whoop. Money can’t buy love, or security. It can’t buy smiles or happiness. All the things a child needs most. Quite frankly, the fact that you think she would be so much better off with you tells me you don’t have the first clue about children or love. How could you? I doubt you’ve ever loved anyone in your life.”
Her chest heaved, and the paper was now a crumpled, soggy scrap in her hand. She started to hurl it at his feet, but he quickly rose and gripped her wrist, preventing her action. His eyes smoldered with rage, the first sign of real emotion she’d seen in him.
“You assume far too much,” he said icily.
She wrenched her hand free and took a step backward. “I won’t sign it, Piers. As far as I’m concerned this marriage doesn’t need to take place. There is no amount of desperation that would make me sign away my rights to my child.”
He studied her for a long moment, his face as immovable as stone. “All right,” he finally said. “I’ll have my lawyer strike the clause. I’ll call him now and he can courier over a new agreement.”
“I’d wait,” she said stiffly. “I’m not finished with my stipulations yet. I’ll let you know when we’re done.”
She turned and stalked back into the lawyer’s office, only to find him standing in the doorway, amusement carved on his face when she’d sworn he couldn’t possibly have a sense of humor.
“What are you looking at?” she growled.
He sobered, although his eyes still had a suspicious gleam. “Shall we get on to your additions to the agreement?”
Three hours later, the final contract had been couriered from Piers’s lawyer’s office, and she and Piers read over and signed it together.
Jewel had insisted on an ironclad agreement that stated they would share custody of their child but that she was the primary custodian. She could tell Piers wasn’t entirely happy with the wording, but she’d been resolute in her refusal to sign anything less.
“Clearly you’ve never learned the art of negotiation,” Piers said dryly as they left the lawyer’s office.
“Some
