Page 14 of The Marriage Agreement
It’s funny how my mother acts as though we’re on good speaking terms, even though every time we talk we always end up arguing. But obliviousness is her strong suit. “And why would I want to marry a fifty-year-old four-time divorcee mother?”
“And how long will continue this stupid, rebellious phase of yours, honey? Preston is a friend of the family and I am sure he’s willing to help your situation. I’m sure he will give you full control of your stake.”
I scoff. By situation, she means the trust fund she and dad tied up so I would remain under their thumb. But if she’s coming to me now it must mean, “Nolan iced you out, didn’t he? Is that why you’re calling?”
“Ugh, please. Your brother and I are having a minor disagreement, that’s all. He thinks an investment in a group of islands in the Bahamas is a harebrained scheme. Can you imagine he called it that? An investment that a former president is part of, mind you.”
So he cut her off. My mother tends to buy expensive things and fall for all sorts of schemes from con artists. She once gave a few million dollars to a sheik who promised her an investment in a Middle Eastern oil field. The sheik turned out to be fake and the oil field non-existent. Dad almost divorced her a second time because of it.
“Why don’t you ask my other brothers? I’m sure they’ll help you out,” I say, knowing it won’t be the case. Carey downright hates my mother for cheating and basically home-wrecking his mother’s relationship with Dad. Ty, Levi and Seb would do whatever Nolan says in any situation and consult him first. And my youngest brother, Raine, is basically a black sheep off to God knows where, in Europe. Last I checked, he’s funding a race car business. Funding or managing, I can’t be sure.
“Ty and Levi aren’t returning my calls and Seb got poisoned by Nolan.” There’s relief in knowing she’s not aware of the marriage or the deal.
“I don’t think I can help you there, mom. And even if I could, I wouldn’t give you money to throw away at an obvious scam.”
“It’s not a scam! I thought you would understand. How else do you want your mother to live if she can’t have any money?”
“Nolan, cut you off completely?”
“I can only get twenty thousand a month. Can you believe it?” I almost laugh. Of course, my mother would think twenty thousand dollars is a small amount to live on. She probably thinks that’s what paycheck to paycheck means.
“Marry Preston yourself, if you’re so strapped for cash.” I hear clapping in the background, making it sound like the crowd agrees.
“Preston likes younger women, which is why he would be perfect for him. He would love bragging to his geriatric friends that he could bag young blood.”
“Funny. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
She sighs. “Oh honey. You know, I was doing what was best for you.”
Suddenly, anger takes hold of me. How dare she say she was helping me when what she was trying to do was keep me shackled to her and to the family? What hurts is that she wasn’t even doing it for my protection, but because she wanted to ensure, she would always have access to money. At the end of the day, I still left and didn’t matter to my mother that her only daughter cut herself off from the family.
“Thanks for calling Mom, but I’ve got some customers to attend to.”
“But—”
“They’re at the door.” I am in the back office. “Bye.”
I end the call and turn my attention back to work. But I can’t. Before I can do anything, I get a message on my phone. It’s from Roddy. What does he want? Maybe he’s sent bank details? I open the message. It’s not bank details. It’s a link to an article. Below it, Roddy writes, “So you did suck his dick.”
My finger shakes as I open the article. It’s a gossip blog that focuses on the New York social scene. The same blog that reported on us last time. The headline screams,
“Video: The Devil elops with a Hawthorne Princess.”
I scream an inaudible fuck as I scroll down. I click the video. Caught in 4k are me and Damien in wedding clothes kissing against the door of the honeymoon suite.
Chapter 5
Damien.
She calls me while I’m in a meeting. I ignore her and send the call to voicemail. She calls again and again. I do the same. That stops her. For about twenty minutes. She calls again and this time I am leaving the meeting and answer as I make my way to my office.
“Do you know how to take no for an answer?”
“Our wedding. It’s out. It’s all over.” She sounds breathless and hurried as if she’s about to have a panic attack. “Calm down and wait for a few seconds.” I hasten my stroll to a march, to the surprise of my employees as my shoes clatter against the marble. I tell my assistant to hold my calls as I enter the office and close the glass door behind me. “What do you mean, it’s over?”
“All over. Well, technically speaking, not all over, but a few New York-centric gossip blogs are talking about it.”
“Oh.” I don’t know why, but I feel relieved that we’re not breaking up. As for the news, it was bound to come out, eventually.
