Chapter 4

Margot POV

“Then let’s get back to the practical points.”

Rhett’s tone stayed mild, as if we were discussing quarterly projections instead of the next five years of my life. “What do you need after the wedding? Living expenses, housing preferences, personal habits, dietary restrictions, religious considerations, and car allowance—anything within reason is negotiable.”

My brain felt stuffed with wet cotton.

The dark-wood scent of him still filled every breath I took, warm and invasive and impossible to ignore.

I kept my hands in the pockets of my lab coat, nails still pressed into my palms, and forced my spine to stay straight against the sofa.

He checked his watch again, a tiny, efficient movement of the wrist.

“This is a mutually beneficial arrangement for both parties. You’ll sign comprehensive agreements clarifying property rights and expectations beforehand. After the wedding, you’ll be expected to act as a normal wife in public and private, discreet, low-profile, loyal, and respectful of clear boundaries.”

The words came out smooth and rehearsed.

He’d said them before, or at least thought them through down to the last comma.

I nodded because it was the expected response and because my throat had gone too tight for actual speech.

Lisa hated every word that came out of his mouth.

She didn’t understand contracts or time limits.

She only understood the way his scent was still pouring into my lungs and the way her entire being had leaned toward him the second the door opened.

“The lawyers will go over the finer contractual points with you.”

He glanced at the man with the glasses, who offered a polite, professional smile on cue.

“Okay,” I managed.

“And your personal requests? You’ll have a standard of living appropriate to the position of my wife. There’s no need to feel awkward or hesitant about asking for reasonable comforts. You can change the living space to suit your preferences. Anything else on your mind?”

He checked his watch a third time.

The small, casual gesture landed like an open-handed slap.

My entire world had just been picked up and shaken until the pieces fell in a completely distinct order.

His next meeting was apparently more important than giving me over twelve minutes of his time.

This was a calendar block to him.

A task to complete between other, more significant tasks.

The heat in my face drained away so fast that I felt dizzy.

For one sharp second, the familiar shame rose, being the spare part, the convenient solution, the thing that could be scheduled and filed.

I crushed it the way I always did.

He was right, of course.

This was a transaction, clean and cold. I’d agreed to marry a stranger for money and the chance to keep Grandma Ellen safe.

That the stranger turned out to be the Alpha whose scent still lived under my skin like a brand didn’t change the fundamental math.

Feelings were a luxury people without seven million dollars in debt could afford.

I forced myself to meet his eyes directly.

Looking straight at a top-tier Alpha still felt like staring down something with bigger teeth and fewer reasons to be merciful, but I did it anyway.

Lisa went quiet and watchful.

“Where would I be living?” My voice came out steadier.

“Is it far from the company? From the lab? And,” I hesitated only a fraction of a second, “I’ll need to see my grandmother regularly. That’s non-negotiable.”

Mild surprise flickered across his face, there and gone.

“You intend to keep working?”

“Is that not allowed?”

The job wasn’t just a paycheck.

It was the one part of my life that still belonged entirely to me, the one place where my value was measured in data and results instead of bloodline or scent.

“Of course it’s allowed,” he said after a temporary pause.

“Losing a researcher of your caliber would be a genuine loss for the company. As for your grandmother, arrangements can be made. Legal and logistical details can be handled directly with counsel.”

He was already rising to his full height.

“Raise any concerns or specific requests you have. I have another commitment waiting.”

I stood as well.

He was even taller up close, a height that made the air feel thinner.

The sheer physical size of him threw a long shadow across me and the sofa.

The pressure of his presence hadn’t lessened just because he was being civil.

Top-tier Alphas didn’t need to raise their voices or bare their teeth.

Their biology did the heavy lifting for them.

And his scent—dark wood and clean smoke and that warm, dangerous undertone—still filled the space between us like it had no intention of leaving when he did.

He left without another word.

The door clicked shut with soft finality.

The lawyer, Mr. Reid, according to the card he placed on the tab, gestured me back into the seat and pulled a thick stack of neatly bound documents from his briefcase.

The paper smelled of money and permanence.

“Prenuptial agreement is the simplest term,” he said in a calm, practiced voice.

“This package covers assets, confidentiality clauses, reputation protection, and detailed marital rights and obligations. These are our standard terms for this arrangement. You’re free to propose modifications or additions of your own. I’ll handle all negotiations.”

I flipped through the heavy pages.

The language was dense and precise.

Lisa paced restlessly under my ribs, still agitated by the scent that hadn’t fully left the room.

“It’s a lot of paper.”

“You’re welcome to read every single line if you prefer. I’ll remain present. However, the documents cannot leave this office under any circumstances. If you’d rather have a clear verbal summary first,”

“Summary’s fine.”

He spoke crisply and without wasting words.

The maximum duration of the marriage would be five years, ending solely at Alpha Vanderbilt’s discretion. Absolute confidentiality during and after the marriage regarding anything related to him, his family, or Vanderbilt Dominion.

Expected spousal duties: remain discreet, maintain a low public profile, stay loyal, and respect clear boundaries, meaning I would follow his arrangements for any shared aspects of life but stay completely out of his private affairs and business decisions.

Day-to-day household matters would be coordinated through his estate manager.

I might be required to assist with certain resource transfers and public-facing appearances connected to the Hargrave-Vanderbilt alignment; my blood connection was part of why the arrangement held strategic value.

No claim whatsoever on his premarital assets or anything gained during the marriage.

No children without explicit prior written agreement.

At the successful conclusion of the term, if I had kept every condition, there would be a substantial financial settlement and complete freedom to walk away.

I listened with my hands folded tightly in my lap, a heavy spot spreading under my sternum.

I had never been a romantic.

I knew exactly what I was signing and why.

That clinical knowledge didn’t make the language easier to swallow.

Lisa didn’t understand contracts or five-year limits.

She only understood the scent still clinging to the air and the way her entire being had leaned toward the door the moment he walked through it.

“I’ll sign,” I said when Mr. Reid finished.

“No changes. No additions.”

He didn’t look surprised.

The heavy pen was already in his hand, uncapped and ready.

I signed every flagged page in silence and pressed my fingerprint onto the biometric pads where required.

The motions felt distant and mechanical, like I was watching someone else sell the next five years of her life in neat black ink and legal language.

With every signature, I felt Lisa’s low, continuous growl of protest under my skin.

When the last page was done, he offered a polished, professional smile.

“You’re completely sure there’s nothing you want to request for your comfort? Alpha Vanderbilt was explicit that reasonable requests would be accommodated without issue.”

“As long as I don’t owe anyone money anymore, my life is already comfortable enough.”

I stood, smoothed the front of my lab coat, and nodded once.

“Thank you for your time.”

I left before he could find another polite way to push.

The dark-wood scent followed me all the way to the elevator, stubborn and impossible to ignore, clinging to my clothes and the inside of my lungs as it had already decided I was its.