Chapter 2 Olivia

With a heavy sigh, Noah rakes his hand through his hair. He looks bitterly angry, but not at me—his expression is turned inward.

“Come with me. You need to see something . . . something I should have showed you a long time ago.” He pulls on a pair of drawstring pants, seemingly not wanting to be naked any more than I do.

Noah offers his hand but I don’t take it. I don’t want to touch him right now. After waiting a moment, he lets his arm drop and turns away.

I follow him to the living room, where he picks up his briefcase leaning by the armchair. As he flicks through its tabbed folders, he asks, “You’d do anything to save this company, right?”

I furrow my brow in irritated confusion. “Of course I would. But what’s that got to do with you trying to knock me up?”

He finds the file he wants, flips it to the second-to-last page, and thrusts it into my hands.

“Here. Read this section.”

I recognize this document. It’s the inheritance contract we signed on our wedding day.

“Why are you showing me something I already read? I know what it says.”

“No, you don’t, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” Noah points again at the section he wants me to see.

With a quiet huff, I start reading below his finger, skimming faster and faster and I grow more annoyed.

And then I see what Noah is talking about.

After being wed, Noah Tate and Olivia Cane agree to consummate their marriage and produce an heir. The resulting pregnancy should occur within ninety days of this executed agreement.

My heart stops. “W-we have to produce an heir?” I yell.

Noah nods grimly. “Our inheritance isn’t final until we have a baby, or at least until we show a positive pregnancy test as proof that one is on the way. And until then the company is in their hands.”

“The board has absolute power,” I mumble in disbelief. “We just have a seat like any other board member, one vote among many. No special considerations for being owners.”

“Exactly.” He slips the document from my trembling hands and turns it to the last page. The one that bears my name in my own curly handwriting.

And that just adds insult to injury—knowing that I, of my own free will, signed this fucking thing. I bound myself to these ridiculous, awful terms without even knowing what I was doing.

My stomach twists with the urge to be sick. Of all the legal documents that have ever passed through my hands, this is the one I sign without reading. Because I thought I knew what it meant. I trusted Dad and Prescott to give me all the information I needed. Hell, I trusted Dad and Bill

Tate not to stipulate crazy shit in their wills in the first place. And I trusted Noah to bring any problems to my attention.

Blood thunders in my ears and I sway a little on my feet. “So that’s what this is about?

Trying to cement our control of the company?”

“I thought our inheritance was only contingent upon marriage at first. Then I saw the heir clause on our wedding day—well, our first one—and that’s why I thought you ran off. But when you signed the contract, I figured you knew what you were doing. It took me about a week to realize you had no idea what you’d signed yourself up for. And then I just didn’t know how to bring it up. Everything was going so well . . . with the company, and with us too. I didn’t want to ruin it by saying something carelessly. I was waiting for the right words, the right moment.”

I can’t keep my mouth shut and listen to Noah defend himself any longer. I’m in no mood for excuses right now, and a million other more important questions are racing through my brain.

“But how . . . why? Why would our fathers do this?” My voice shakes with confusion, horror, and a fresh wave of outrage. I press my hands over my mouth again, as if that can stop my emotions from gushing out and splattering all over the snow-white carpet.

“Because they knew just as well as I do that we’re meant to be together. And not in some fake marriage, some act that’s all about publicity and business, but the real thing. A relationship that will stand the test of time.”

Are you shitting me? I shake my head in disbelief. “I can’t. You lied to me. Our fathers lied to me.” I can still hardly wrap my head around the truth. Their betrayal—there’s no other word for it—is just too staggering.

“Technically, they didn’t. You just didn’t read the . . .” Noah wisely trails off when I shoot him daggers with my eyes.

I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly. All of a sudden, I feel like I’m deflating.

Everything that makes me Olivia Cane is draining away.

“What should we do now?” Noah asks.

“How the hell would I know? I’m done.” My voice is flat—too quiet, too steady. He blinks at me owlishly. “What?”

“I said I’m done. I’ve had enough of all this shit. Close down the company, sell it off, do whatever you want. I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

This heir clause is one sacrifice too many. I’ve worked so hard and given up so much for Tate & Cane Enterprises. I let everything else in my life come second. I spent so many hard years in school and at my father’s right hand. So many long days and late nights. I gave Tate & Cane my soul; I came close to giving Noah my heart. I can’t give them my body too. Not to mention the next eighteen years of my life, until the kid grows up.

So my only option is just . . . leaving. Leaving Tate & Cane, leaving Dad, leaving Noah. I’ve had enough of men’s control to last a lifetime. I’m sick of letting everyone except me dictate my destiny.

Noah’s mouth drops open. “You can’t . . . you don’t really mean that.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what I mean. You don’t get to make any more decisions on my behalf.”

That kind of paternalistic bullshit is exactly why I’m so pissed. Noah decided one thing after another about an issue that would totally change my life. He assumed how I’d react to the heir clause and decided that I couldn’t be trusted with the truth, so he decided to keep me in the dark, and he almost decided me right into an unplanned, unwanted pregnancy.

And I had no fucking clue what was going on. I just went about my life, blissfully ignorant, thinking everything was fine, when all the while, Noah was hiding such a huge problem from me. Taking away my power to decide anything for myself. At best, he was a stupid, cowardly prick; at worst, he treated me like some kind of clueless pet, trapping me into a life I don’t even know if I want.

Now he has the balls to stand here and look me in the eye and say a single solitary word about what’s best for me.

Blinking back tears of rage, I whirl away from Noah and back to the bedroom. I start throwing clothes and toiletries into my suitcase, the same little maroon suitcase I brought to sleep over at our new penthouse. I still remember that first night. It wasn’t so long ago, but it feels like a different life. I had been on the edge, unsure of how I felt about Dad’s wedding gift, and Noah had calmed my nerves by welcoming me with sweet, hot kisses . . .

So stupid. I’m always so stupid. To think I was actually starting to hope. To get attached to Noah, to trust him, to think of myself as part of an us. I thought I’d learned something from the hell I went through with Brad, but I guess not.

Fate really is a cruel bitch. What are the odds of being so unlucky? I’ve only had two relationships in my whole life and both of them were disasters. Have I been wearing a big neon TAKE ADVANTAGE OF ME sign on my forehead or something?

This time, at least, I nipped things in the bud before any real damage was done. I may have wasted a couple of months on Noah, but that’s a lot better than the two years Brad sucked out of my life. And it’s not like I’m in love with the dickhead, right? At least I’ll be able to cut him out of my life after a quickie divorce . . . or so I tell myself.

With my suitcase packed, I grab my purse and blow past a shocked Noah, leaving behind the place I was just starting to call home.