Page 31 of The Billionaire and His Forever

Guilt rises in my chest. This was exactly why my dad sent me here to begin with. He needed money to get my very broke family out of debt, and his plan was for me to extort his best friend in order to get that money. I abandoned the plan already, but now, the fact that I agreed—that I came here with the worst of intentions—is killing me all over again.

And there’s only one thing I can think of to make it better.

I swallow hard. “I want to sign a prenup.” Graham raises his brows, but before he can say anything, I go on, “Because honestly, as much as I’m looking forward to sharing your life and all the fancy stuff that comes with it, I’m not a gold digger. And I don’t want to look like one in court later, if anything were to happen to you, or if we…split up.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Abbie, and we won’t split up. But I’m happy to honor your wishes. I’ll have my lawyer draw up a document this week,” Graham says kindly.

“Can we do it now?” I push.

I’m not just doing this for my reputation, or to prove to myself (or anyone else) that I’m marrying Graham for all the right reasons—I’m doing it to stick it to my father. To get back at him for sending me here under false pretenses, for pimping me out, for using me without a second thought. This prenup will show, once and for all, that I’m with Graham for love. That my loyalties lie with him.

My future husband pulls out his phone again. “I’ll call Bowen.”

While Graham gets on the phone with his lawyer, I scroll through the list of properties and companies Graham owns. I knew he owned a banking empire, and that he probably had some decent investments, but my God. My. God.

Minutes later, Graham gets off the phone. “Bow is sending the documents over now.”

“Good. Thank you. And one more thing…” I trail off, thinking over my words carefully. “I called my parents to tell them about the engagement, but it turns out they’re on vacation. In theBahamas. It’s the first time they’ve taken a trip together in years, and I couldn’t stand the thought of making them feel like they had to fly back home just for me. So…I didn’t tell them.”

His eyes widen, and he whips out his phone. “You’re their only daughter. Of course they’ll come home. I’m sure they’ll be happy to—”

“No!” I bat the phone away. “It’s better this way. I wasn’t even sure I wanted them at the wedding to begin with. Honestly, I don’t know how they’ll react to the news. Or if they’ll support us at all. I was thinking I’d tell them afterward. What do you think?”

I don’t tell him that even though my father absolved me of my guilt, seeing him on my wedding day would remind me of why I came to the estate in the first place—the awful plan I agreed to before my whole world changed. All I can think is,thank God I signed that prenup.

“Don’t you want your father to give you away?” Graham asks.

“No. I mean…I guess I hadn’t really thought of that part, but no. It’s not something I’ve dreamed of, ever. I’m not an object to be given and taken. I’m not a piece of livestock that’s getting a transfer of ownership. I don’t need anyone to give me away, except for me.”

I’ve gotten myself all worked up, and I know it. But Graham just searches my eyes, nodding slowly.

“Okay. If that’s what you want. We’ll tell them afterward.” He pulls me into his arms. “Now. Have you started practicing your new signature yet? The double f can be quite the challenge if you aren’t used to it.”

A grin tugs at my lips. I love this playful version of him. “Is that so?”

“It is, indeed.”

I go to his desk to grab a pen and a legal pad, and then come back over and sign the name Abbie Ratliff, complete with swirls and dots. It looks impeccable, and Graham starts to laugh.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’ve been practicing that signature a fair amount already, you little minx.”

“Maybe I have,” I tease, tossing the pen and paper aside and crawling into his lap.

Graham tilts my chin so we’re staring directly into each other’s eyes, and says softly, “I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

Joy overwhelms me. Pure, unfiltered joy. “I can’t wait to make you my husband.”

Chapter Thirteen

Abbie

With the weddingonly days away, Graham and Jude and I fall into a whirlwind of last-minute planning. Flowers, cakes, dinner menus. Who we’re actually going to invite. Graham had no problem honoring my request to keep the guest list small, and it didn’t take much effort to prune down everyone in my life. Besides my mom and dad, there’s really only one person I need there, standing at my side, no matter what.

Amanda.

But we still haven’t made up yet. It’s been nothing but radio silence between us. Is this stupid fight really the end of our friendship? It can’t be. And yet…what if it was? What if Amanda truly wants nothing to do with me (and my relationship with Graham) anymore? There’s only one way to find out, though. I can’t just sit here thinking the worst.

So after I fortify myself with another round of coffee and almond croissants, I go out to the pool—a place that always instantly relaxes me—and deposit myself in a lounger under an umbrella. Then I take out my phone and go to Amanda’s contact. My finger trembles over the call icon.

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