“Where’s my ring?” He stared at her left ring finger.
“You know I can’t wear it at work.”
“I’ll get a necklace for you to put it on when you’re at work.” He reached behind his seat and pulled out a manila envelope. “Speaking of…I need you to sign this.”
“What is it?”
He guided the car through the parking lot and merged into traffic. “It’s our prenup.”
“Our what?”
Heat flared in her cheeks. Why did she care if he’d had a prenuptial drawn up when she’d planned to return his ring? But she did. She hated everything about a prenup. Marriage was the complete binding of two people’s lives, not a contractual division of assets.
The traffic thickened.
“This can’t come as a surprise.”
A prenup admitted failure before the vows were even spoken, and she wasn’t after Spencer's money. She didn’t need it. He came from old money and a distinguished family, but she wasn’t destitute.
Her finger itched to text Forest and tell him. He would have a good laugh about Spencer's money concerns, but she did nothing.
Staring at the envelope, she found her resolve. “I’m not signing this.”
Spencer sucked in a breath and slowly blew it out. “Listen, we come from different backgrounds. You grew up in foster care, and while you pulled yourself out of that, you carry the debt of medical school while I have a trust fund.”
“I’m not marrying you for your money.” She wasn’t going to marry him at all although he seemed determined to continue with their engagement. “I thought you understood that.”
“I’m more than willing to shoulder the burden of whatever student loans you might have, but I owe it to my family to protect their assets.”
She fished the ring out of her pocket and placed it on the dash. “I’m not marrying you.”
Spencer's fingers squeezed the steering wheel, and his jaw clamped down. “You’re being unreasonable.”
The diamond sparkled with the light from oncoming headlights. She stared at the glittering light. “Pull over.”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel, and his foot pressed on the gas. “Don’t be melodramatic, Skye. I’m not pulling over.”
“I’m not marrying a man who cheats on me the day after he proposed.”
His jaw clenched, and he shot her a glare. “You should thank me, to be honest.”
Damn, he could cut deep.
“Thank you? For cheating?”
His thumbs tapped the steering wheel. “This is a useless argument. And I don’t blame you. I know what happened when you were younger, and I accept you as you are, but I have needs. I could have had some sordid affair, but I spared you that embarrassment. I keep things discreet.”
Had he really shifted the blame for his infidelity to her?
His expression softened. “I haven’t given up on you. We’ll get help. Find a therapist who deals with sexual trauma. We’ll work through this together—as man and wife. Until then, I’ll manage my needs as I see fit.”
“So, you’ll sleep around, and I’m supposed to be grateful?” He was a true bastard. How had she been so blind?
He breathed out. “Those women are professionals, and what I do is behind closed doors, unlike your little display. You’re my fiancée, and you kissed a man in front of everyone at your work. Imagine how that makes me look. The bastard broke my nose.” He pointed to the envelope. “Sign the prenup, Skye.” He grabbed the diamond ring off the dash and thrust it at her. “And put this back on your finger. I intend to marry you. This is nothing more than a tiny disagreement.”
Tiny? Was he delusional?
They pulled off the main road onto a side street. In another few turns, they’d be at his place.
