The Alpha’s $12 Million Bride

Terms and Conditions

My father stared at me.

I stared back.

Roman said nothing.

“One year,” my father said finally.

“Three hundred sixty-five days.”

“You understand what happens if the Veyrs receive a judgment before then.”

“Then I assume the entire reason you’re selling me disappears.”

His jaw tightened.

“This isn’t a sale.”

I looked at Roman.

“How much are you paying him again?”

“Twelve million.”

I looked back at my father.

“Walked right into that one.”

Roman coughed.

I was almost certain it was a laugh.

“Three hundred sixty-five days,” I said. “On day three hundred sixty-six, I can leave. No retaliation. No consequences for my brother. No suddenly discovering another family emergency that requires me to stay married.”

Roman answered first.

“Done.”

My father looked at him.

“That wasn’t the agreement.”

“It’s my marriage.”

“And the twelve million stays in escrow.”

That got my father’s attention.

Interesting.

“You said this isn’t about the money.”

“It isn’t.”

“Perfect. Then waiting shouldn’t bother you.”

Roman’s mouth twitched.

“Done.”

“That wasn’t the agreement either.”

“It’s my twelve million.”

I walked back to the desk and pulled the legal pad toward me.

“If you’re getting a year, I’m getting terms.”

“The contract already—”

“I don’t give a s**t what the contract already says.”

I picked up the pen.

“My warehouse remains mine. My work remains mine. Anything I create, sell, earn, inherit, or purchase during the marriage belongs to me.”

“Done,” Roman said.

“Separate finances. My own accounts. My own car. My own phone. Nobody tracks any of them.”

He nodded.

“No guards following me.”

“If there’s an active threat—”

“You tell me.”

“And we decide.”

“I decide with you. Not you telling me what’s best for me.”

His eyebrow lifted.

“Fine.”

“No public appearances I haven’t approved. No interviews. No photographs. Nobody uses my name or face to make either of you look good.”

“Agreed.”

“I don’t take your name.”

“Anders isn’t that bad.”

“Neither is Valcourt.”

Something almost like amusement appeared in his eyes.

“And nobody calls me Josefina.”

My father sighed.

“Josefina.”

I pointed the pen at him.

“Exactly.”

Roman looked between us.

“What do you prefer?”

“Seph.”

“Seph,” he repeated.

No question. No argument.

Something about that irritated me considerably less than it should have.

“I don’t perform whatever duties come with being an Alpha’s wife.”

“Luna.”

“Absolutely f*****g not.”

Roman’s mouth twitched.

“Separate bedrooms. You don’t enter mine without permission.”

“Agreed.”

“No expectation of sex.”

“Agreed.”

“No heirs.”

“No expectation of heirs.”

I looked up.

“That’s what I said.”

“No.” Roman held my gaze. “It isn’t.”

I paused.

“Fine. That’s what I meant.”

“Then agreed.”

“No claiming. No marking. No bonding rituals. No wolf whatever-the-f**k-you-people-do.”

Something in his expression changed.

“And my father does not interfere with my work. No calls. No favors. No conversations with clients, architects, developers, collectors, galleries, suppliers, insurers, banks, or anyone else connected to my career. Not directly. Not through someone else.”

“And if he does?” Roman asked.

“I leave. Immediately. The twelve million stays in escrow, and he gets nothing.”

My father opened his mouth.

“Agreed,” Roman said.

“And the noninterference is permanent.”

My father’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t get to wait until day three hundred sixty-six and start making phone calls.”

“Fine.”

I wrote it down.

Then stopped.

Day three hundred sixty-six.

“What happens to me after the divorce?”

“You’re free to leave,” Roman said.

“I know that. Politically.”

My father answered.

“You return to the Valcourts.”

“I wasn’t asking you.”

I looked at Roman.

“Do I?”

His gaze moved briefly to my father.

“Only if you choose to.”

My pen stopped.

“What?”

“Marriage transfers your pack affiliation. Divorce doesn’t automatically transfer it back.”

That seemed like information someone might have mentioned.

“What are my options?”

“You can remain Anders. Petition another pack. Or go independent.”

“Rogue,” my father said.

I frowned.

“That’s the same thing?”

“Legally,” Roman said.

“Rogues lose their minds,” said my father.

“Some do,” pointed Roman.

“Enough of them,” my father growled back.

Confused, I asked, “Why?”

“Wolves aren’t meant to exist entirely alone,” Roman said. “Pack bonds provide stability. Without one, some Rogues begin losing control.”

“Aggression,” my father added. “Paranoia. Eventually, the wolf overwhelms the person.”

I stared at him.

“What does that matter?”

My father’s expression hardened.

“Josefina.”

“No, seriously.” I gestured at myself. “What wolf?”

Silence.

Roman stopped moving.

Completely.

“What?”

His eyes had gone gold.

“You don’t have a wolf?”

“No.”

His gaze shifted to my father.

“She doesn’t have a wolf.”

It wasn’t a question.

“She never has.”

Roman said nothing.

“I’ve never shifted,” I said. “Never heard a voice. Never had the weird second-person-in-your-own-head s**t my brother describes. Nothing.”

Roman looked at me like he was listening for something I couldn’t hear.

“I was born defective.”

“No.”

The word came from him so quickly I blinked.

Roman’s expression closed.

“Different isn’t defective.”

Oh.

That was unexpectedly kind of him.

“Well. Someone embroider that on a pillow.”

Nobody laughed.

“Tough room,” I sighed. “So unless my nonexistent wolf plans to materialize specifically to drive me insane, going Rogue seems like a weird thing to threaten me with.”

“You have no idea how independent status would affect you,” my father said.

“Neither do you, apparently.”

“Which is why it isn’t an option.”

I looked at Roman.

“Is he right?”

“No.”

My father’s jaw flexed.

Interesting.

“Can a Rogue stop being Rogue?”

“By joining another pack.”

“Anything else?”

My father spoke first.

“No.”

Now I definitely wanted to know.

“Roman?”

His eyes stayed on my father.

“A Rogue can establish a pack.”

“How?”

“If other wolves willingly recognize their authority, they can establish territory and petition the council for recognition.”

“So the Rogue becomes an Alpha.”

“Under the right circumstances.”

“That is completely irrelevant,” my father said, agitation apparent on his face.

“Because I don’t have a wolf.”

“Exactly.”

Roman’s gaze moved slowly to him.

“So you’ve said.”

Something about those three words changed the room.

Roman had stopped smiling.

I looked down at the legal pad.

“Upon termination of the marriage, I choose my own pack affiliation. Including independent status. I do not automatically return to Valcourt authority.”

“No,” my father said.

“Agreed,” Roman said at the same time.

I looked up.

“That provision isn’t necessary,” my father said.

“Then you shouldn’t mind it.”

“You don’t understand what you’re asking for.”

“Then explain it.”

Silence.

“Great. Term stays.”

I wrote it down.

“No retaliation for whatever I choose. No interference. No contesting it.”

“Agreed,” Roman said.

My father said nothing.

I looked at him.

“The twelve million is still in escrow.”

His mouth flattened.

“Fine.”

“And no surveillance. Ever. You don’t watch my studio. You don’t check my accounts. You don’t track me. You don’t pay someone else to do it.”

My eyes stayed on my father.

“Agreed.”

I wrote one final line.

Then looked at Roman.

“And you don’t touch me.”

He went still.

“Unless I choose it.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

His gaze dropped briefly to my hand around the pen.

Then returned to my face.

“Agreed.”

No argument.

No joke.

Just agreed.

I set the pen down.

“Put all of it in writing. The twelve million stays in escrow until the year is complete. If either of you violates these terms, I leave, and he gets nothing.”

Roman looked at my father.

“Works for me.”

I looked down at everything I’d written.

I’d walked into this room thinking my father had given me two choices.

Lose everything I’d built.

Or lose a year of my life.

Except he’d missed something.

On day three hundred sixty-six, I didn’t have to come home.

I didn’t have to stay with Roman.

I didn’t want a pack. I didn’t want territory. I certainly didn’t want to be anybody’s Alpha or Luna.

But I wanted the right to decide that for myself.

One year.

Then my brother was safe.

My work was mine.

And for the first time in my life, so was I.

“We have a deal.”

My father stayed long enough to begin revising the agreement.

Then a phone call pulled him from the library.

The doors shut behind him.

Silence settled over the room.

Different this time.

I was alone with the man I’d just agreed to marry.

Roman looked at the closed doors, then at me.

“Your father doesn’t like me.”

I laughed. “You just let me rewrite his contract in front of him.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think he likes me very much right now either.”

“I noticed.”

He smiled.

Actually smiled.

It changed his entire face.

Which was unfortunate for me.

“You should do that less.”

“Smile?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It’s distracting.”

His smile widened.

Fuck.

I reached for my phone.

“We’re getting married,” he said.

“I’m aware.”

“Traditionally, people shake hands after reaching an agreement.”

He held out his hand.

I looked at it.

Then at him.

“You agreed not to touch me.”

“Technically you’d be touching me.”

I stared at his hand.

Large.

Surprisingly calloused.

Annoyingly attached to the rest of him.

Then I reached past it and picked up my phone.

“Get used to disappointment, Roman.”

His hand dropped.

But the smile didn’t.

“I’m patient.”

I headed for the door.

“Good.”

My hand closed around the handle.

“Seph.”

I stopped.

It was the first time anyone other than my brother had called me that in this house.

I looked back.

Roman was still watching me.

Still smiling.

But his eyes were gold.

“You’re going to need that patience.”

And I walked out.