Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
‘The truth does tend to hurt,’ he observed.
‘The truth? You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you where the good Lord split you.’
He grinned suddenly, which just made me even madder.
‘And while we’re at it,’ I cried hotly. ‘You don’t know the first thing about my marriage to Robert. You might need to take a seat for that. Actually, you might need to take a whole
bench to yourself to sit and listen without judging,’
He raised both his hands, palms facing me. ‘Fair enough. I take that remark back, but if you keep the high emotions out of this scenario you’ll quickly appreciate the fact that I’m the
best option and this is the best solution to your troubles.’
I opened my mouth to let off another tirade, but he raised his hands again.
‘Hear me out. The marriage ceremony itself will be quick and less painful than a trip to the dentist, and in about two years’ time we’ll get divorced. You’ll get your inheritance back
under your control, I’ll sail off into the sunset, and we never need meet again.’
I looked at him suspiciously. ‘What do you get out of it?’
‘Just the sex really.’
‘What?’ I exploded.
‘Where’s that famous sense of Southern humor gone?’
‘It got chewed to bits when you unveiled your grand plan.’
‘It’s a good plan, Tawny. Strictly speaking we don’t even have to live together after a reasonable amount of time.’
I scowled. Why would he want to put himself out to the extent of marrying me, when it was perfectly obvious that he didn’t even like me? In his eyes I was a gold digger. Aha! Correction:
I used to be a gold digger. I wasn’t anymore. As a matter of fact, I was now the rich American widow. Easy prey for all kinds of avaricious men. Perhaps even men with titles and no
fortune.
I leaned forward. ‘And how much of my inheritance do you get to keep when we divorce?’
His eyes were suddenly freezing chips of ice, and I realized that I probably shouldn’t have put it quite so crudely. There was still a small, unlikely chance he was doing all this to
help me. To be fair I should have given him the benefit of the doubt.
‘I’ll get my lawyer to draw up a pre-nup where neither party benefits from the other, and have a draft sent to your lawyers. Any other objections?’
Another very obvious objection occurred to me, but I didn’t voice it. I didn’t even look at him suspiciously. What if he was in cahoots with my step-children? They kill me, he inherits
the whole thing, and they split it among the four of them. Nice plan.
‘I’d like a bit of time to think over this new scheme of yours.’
‘Be my guest. Believe me I’ll be more than glad if you could come up with a strategy that is less involving.’
After Ivan left the apartment, I cut a large slice of cake and sat down to eat it while I thought about Ivan’s surreal and totally unexpected proposal. No matter which way I looked at
it, it simply didn’t feel right even to pretend to marry Ivan. Not when I had only just buried Robert.
Poor Robert would have been horrified to see the situation I was in. He wanted me to be independent. Yet here I was, Barrington closed up, all the staff laid off, and me stuck in Ivan’s
apartment and at his mercy while his stepchildren plotted God knows what to get their hands on my money.
I thought again about Robert saying to me, ‘Trust me, my darling Tawny. I have thought long and hard about this. I promise you my plan is a sound one.’ His illness must have ravaged him
more than I thought. As far as I could see there was no plan to speak of, and he left such a large loophole for them to exploit.
I tried to imagine his reaction to me marrying Ivan. The thought made me sigh. Yet what choices did I have right now? I had no access to the money. If I tried to go it alone I would just
make it even easier for them to knock me off. Perhaps they had even meant for me to perish that day. Like Ivan, I was a hundred percent certain that they would try it again. One look
into Rosalind’s mean, dead eyes told me that she was total psychopath. One hundred and ten million was a lot of money.
I put away the breakfast dishes and called Angela, who worked at the One Turtle Foundation.
‘Oh, Mrs. Maxwell. I’m so sorry for your loss. I was at the church service, but I did not come forward because I didn’t want to intrude.’
‘Thank you, Angela. That was very kind of you.’
‘Mr. Maxwell was very generous to Steve and me in the will. I did not expect it. He was such a kind man. I miss him.’