Page 67 of Stolen Vows

But I can see now that might’ve been a mistake.

“How do you know about that?” I know I never said anything about the contract.Right?

His face softens, his gaze losing some of the intensity as he looks at me. It feels like him, but everything about this conversation feels off. Wrong. Like a sweatshirt that’s been worn too many times. Misshapen with holes and a weird smell.

He exhales softly, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. “I told you I was in cybersecurity, right?” When I nod, he continues, “Well, part of that is security software engineering.”

I stare at him, my mind struggling to catch up with his words. “So you, what, hacked into my personal information? How is that any better than what my parents are doing?”

Graham’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking beneath the surface. “It’s not the same thing at all, Francesca. I didn’t hack into anything. The contract is publicly filed, which means it can be accessed by anyone who requests it.”

Hurt lances across my breastbone, sinking into the soft tissue. “You could’ve asked me, Graham.”

He dips his chin in acknowledgement. “I should have.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He leans forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. “You wouldn’t have told me. And time isn’t a luxury you have right now.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and tear my gaze away from him. He’s not wrong. I definitely wouldn’t have told him all the sordid details that is my relationship with my parents. Definitely not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Still. “You should’ve asked.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m trying to help you.”

I slide him a look, skepticism heavy on my brow. “And how is getting married going to help me exactly?”

He holds my gaze steadily, his expression calm and resolute. “The Ashburn clause.”

My brows knit together as I try to process his words. “What about the Ashburn clause?” I ask slowly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Graham leans in closer, his voice low and urgent. “If we get married for a year, you own Fiction and Folklore outright. No more profit benchmarks, no more control from your parents. It’s yours, free and clear.”

I stare at him, my mind reeling. He’s right. Of course he’s right. I know the terms of Aunt Miriam’s will, my trust, and the bookstore contract like the back of my hand.

But for him to know it? That feels different. And I’m . . . I’m not sure how I feel about it.

I shake my head, trying to clear the jumble of thoughts. “Even if that’s true, it’s crazy, Graham. We can’t justget married.”

He leans back, studying me intently. “Why not? It solves your problem.”

“Because!” I throw my hands up in exasperation. “People don’t just get married to solve legal issues. That’s not how it works.”

“Sometimes it is.” His voice is calm, matter-of-fact. Like he’s discussing the weather forecast and not the absurd notion of us getting hitched.

I press my fingers to my temples, my brain hurting with the overload of information. “God, you really went all-out on my publicly accessible information, hm? What’s next? You’re going to show me the veterinary records of all my childhood pets?”

“You didn’t have pets growing up.” When I cut him a sharp look, he huffs a little. “You told me Romeo was the first pet you’ve ever had. Something about your parents not liking pets.”

Some of my anger deflates, the frayed edges of my shock still trembling in my fingertips. “Right.”

He drops his head, letting it hang for a moment, his gaze on the ground. He exhales and pushes to his feet. He holds out his hand to me, palm up. “It’s easier if I show you. Will you come with me?”

I tilt my chin up and look down my nose at him. I feel ridiculous considering he’s towering over me, but as far as defenses go, I’m running low at the moment.

“I can’t leave Romeo.” It’s not entirely true. I could put him in his kennel in our apartment upstairs, but I don’t want to. And I’m not sure if I want to be all that accommodating to Graham right now either.

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