Engaged To The Tycoon

chapter 4

"He's going to save your rear end from the flames, and all he wants to do is get married without first meeting the woman he's going to marry? " "He's going to save your rear end from the flames." I asked him. When I actually spoke it out loud, for some reason, it came off as even more ridiculous than it had previously.

A transient expression similar to a smile emerged on his face for a moment. The individual responded by saying, "Well, that in addition to ninety-five percent of the profits and directional control of the venture."

I did something with my hand to indicate my intent. “Stop. I don't care." I was so frightened that I reached out and gave the contract a nervous poke, and the same while I was doing it, I was wondering if it had been designed to blow up or not. It's not impossible that it was, at least in some way. Finding an experienced lawyer was going to be one of the most important things for me to do. And not just a good lawyer, but a lawyer who was dishonest enough to take part in what essentially amounted to the selling off of me to be married as if I were a piece of property as if I were a lawyer who was dishonest enough to take part in what effectively amounted to the selling off of me to be married as if I was a

Haha. Excellent work. It's probably as easy as me hurrying over to the state bar office and hurling a rock through the glass window there.

I took a long, deep breath in and then gently let it out. The legal agreement that was in front of me gave the impression of a significant weight, as though it possessed its own gravitational pull, one that was powerful enough to throw off the course of my entire life. This was the first time I'd ever had the impression that something was significantly heavier than it actually was.

"What does your mother think about this subject matter?" I enquired while maintaining a low volume.

When my grandfather's attention was drawn downward, he was looking at his hands. In the process of tinkering with the material, he pulled and kneaded it with his fingers.

You could inquire, "She isn't aware, is she?" (She is unaware, right?) I had a hunch about it. When I talked to her two days ago, she didn't tell me because she didn't want me to be concerned about it and she didn't want to bother me.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

My dad told me that "he wants to meet with you first," and I believe he means it. " He suggested that you come by whenever it would be most convenient for you to do so. You can always talk to him by knocking on his door, which is always an option. He is worried that you will not... fall short of his expectations for a wife if you choose to marry him.

Meet his needs? Holy crap, the remark certainly seemed to carry a lot of weight. My abdomen was being squished from the pressure of a frigid fist that had been wrapped around it.

I made the observation that this was a ridiculousness of the greatest kind possible. "Are you conscious of that at this point?"

My father did not answer my inquiry when I asked him.

I grabbed a hold of the contract and tucked it into the top compartment of the messenger bag I was carrying. "I'll go talk to him," I said. And while I'm at it, I'll tell him exactly what's been going through my head.

I wanted to give my father a good smack in the face when I saw that look of complete and absolute happiness on his face, but I refrained. He had irresponsibly taken the life of my mother, and now he wanted me to take my own life by caving in to him and allowing him to use me as a pawn in his game. He had already taken my mother's life.

Well. I loved my mother very much, but there was no way that I could ever replace her. I got to my feet and left the coffee shop without so much as saying goodbye to my father as I passed him on the way out the door. I was in charge of deciding every aspect of my own life. If Silva Bryan was under the impression that he could purchase someone's hand in marriage in this day and age, he was in for a rude awakening. I wouldn't allow any man to have power over me, and if he felt he could, he was under the impression that he could, but I wouldn't let him.

Wall Street was the location of the majority of Empire Capital's sister companies. Each of these companies was relatively interchangeable, and each of these companies had imposing and dominant names that were obviously intended to compensate for something. When I entered the mezzanine, I was taken aback to discover that the interior had been gutted and redesigned in an ultra-nouveau post-modern style. This revelation took me by surprise. It gave off the impression of being a mausoleum from the exterior. It made me angry that someone had been paid handsomely to minimize the character of the building while I, struggling alone in my art studio, worked to put character into the world. On the one hand, I could appreciate the fine, smooth lines of a space that had been well-designed. On the other hand, I could appreciate the fine, smooth lines of a space that had been well-designed. It was done in a very scientific manner. In addition to that, I favored historic structures.

Image from the caption card

Discover a Good Book to Read. I formed the hasty judgment that Silva Bryan was a jerk right then and there.

I stepped up to the front desk, which was streamlined and elegantly fashioned and completely isolated in the middle of the slate floor that was dark gray. The lady who was working behind the counter was a receptionist who was making her way through the day by typing on a keyboard that was also white and staring at a screen that was also white. She was wearing the tiniest bluetooth headset imaginable on her head at all times. Additionally white Naturally.

During that entire minute, she never once bothered to raise her eyes to glance in my direction. It made sense. The clothes I was wearing gave me the appearance of... well, a hippie hobo who had recently emerged from her weed cave. My work clothes had baked clay streaks all over them, and the stains were breaking and cracking as they dried. Even as I remained there, immobile, minute particles peeled off and fluttered down to the immaculate floor below.

Good. I was more than eager to demonstrate that I was not going to be the picture-perfect little wife that Mr. Waters most certainly desired, and I was happy to do so in any manner that I could.

After what seemed like an eternity, the person who was staffing the front desk bothered to turn their attention in my direction. A wrinkle appeared on her otherwise perfect nose. There is a good chance that she could have paid one month's worth of rent with the clothes that she was wearing at the time.

She enquired, "Am I able to be of use to you?"

It appeared like we were in for a wonderful time. "Yeah," I answered. "Silva Bryan, I've come here to talk to you about something important. I included this information in the argument in the expectation that it will be of some use to me. The correct response is "no."

I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt when she graciously batted her eyelids at me. It is very likely that she had the mistaken belief that I was a deranged person who had refused to provide her with her prescription. I made sure to keep a close eye on her hands in case she was concealing a secret panic button somewhere beneath the edge of her desk. I did this so that I wouldn't be caught off guard. The inquiry "Is he?" was posed by her. "Would you be so kind as to identify the caller for me?"

"Lucy Wayne."

As soon as I announced my name, I observed a significant change in the manner in which she was behaving.

“Oh!” Her stunning eyes expanded in apparent shock as she spoke. "Of sure, Ms. Wayne," I replied. I'll give them a ring and let them know that you've arrived, thanks.