Page 149 of Faking the Pass
And it was going to work.
He was going to win. What choice did I have?
Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I wiped them away, staring at my feet.
Randy reached out and cupped my bent elbow.
“Look, I don’t want to fight anymore, Rosie. Whether you believe it or not, I really do love you. And you’ve proved your point.”
He threw both hands out to the side, his expensive cufflinks sparkling under the lights.
“You put me in my place,” he said. “Look at me—you’ve got me begging here.”
I did look at him, and I utterly hated what I saw. The certainty in his eyes, the sheer confidence in his own power and ability to get whatever he wanted.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
While giving in felt like handing the devil my soul, gift-wrapped with a big red bow on top, another part of me sighed in intense relief.
Presley was free.
He’d be able to go to practice today, play with his team on Sunday, and he would no longer be on the hook financially for my mistakes.
“Excellent.” Randy beamed and pulled a folded sheet of paper from his suit jacket pocket.
“A new NDA,” he answered my question before I could ask it. “Covering the terms of our new deal.”
“You want me to sign it right now?”
“If you would,” he said, offering me a pen.
Letting out a long breath, I propped the paper on the side of my purse and signed it, giving it back to him.
Randy beamed and handed me a large brown envelope.
“What’s this? The contract for the sequel?” He’d certainly come prepared.
“A fresh start,” he said. “I had my lawyer draw up a divorce petition for you and your ‘groom.’ The agreement restores you both to your prior status financially, each of you keeps your own property. You can keep the ring and whatever gifts he may have bought for you, if you want to. No alimony for either party. It’ll be as if that ridiculous ‘marriage’ never happened. All you have to do is sign and file them, and it’s done.”
I was almost too shocked to form words.
“Why do you care if I divorce him or not?” I wheezed. “Couldn’t I just do the sequel with you? Why do you care if I’m married?”
“Because the love triangle is resolved by the midpoint of the script, babe,” he said as if it would have been obvious to even the smallest child.
“You know Cinderella has to end up with the Prince in the end.”
It was hard to breathe. “I don’t know about this.”
“If you really love your new husband, which I suspect you do, you won’t ruin him financially and take away all his career dreams,” Randy said.
He looked up at the door behind me then darted his eyes back to me. “Decide quickly. It’s part of the deal.”
Then he turned and rushed away.
The next thing I knew, Presley was standing at my side. His posture was tense, his hands formed into fists as he watched Randy scurry down the hall.
“Stay away from my wife,” he growled after him, and Randy’s pace quickened.
