Lyla James Marichal agrees to put her shares of Duke Tech Enterprises in an account for any future children she has while married to Lachlan James Duke. The account will remain untouched until their children are twenty-five (not married!!!!).
That part makes me laugh a little.
Lyla James Marichal agrees to provide her medical services to any veteran employed by Duke Tech Enterprises for the next three years (at least) during and after her residency, so longas she is able. In return, Lachlan James Duke’s contract with Duke Tech Enterprises is void and left pending, upon agreement that Lachlan James Duke forfeits his duties with Duke Tech Enterprises for the next three years (at least).
Lyla clears her throat. “You’ll still get your inheritance since we’ll be married.”
I keep my eyes on the paper. I can’t remember the last time I cried. Probably when I was a kid and my father didn’t show up for something. I’m pretty sure I’m crying right now, if the wet drops on the contract are any indication. I inhale a shaky breath and wipe my face. I had my lawyer look at the contract I signed with Duke Tech a second time, and he said it was iron-clad and nearly impossible to get out of.
He suggested I speak to my father, but I hadn't figured out a way to do that without feeling like an ungrateful bastard. Duke Tech is the only reason I found Lyla. There's no way I can ever repay him for that. It’s why I made peace with not going back to the league. I choose her over hockey any day. Every day. Fucking Lyla. I read it again. She agreed to work for Duke when called upon. She forfeited all of the money she could have used to pay her debt, for me. Of course, I’m going to pay it for her, but that’s not the point.
My mother loves me, my brother loves me, my father claims he loves me, but none of them have ever done anything that comes close to this. I’m not certain that they would, if they were in this situation. Lyla scoots closer and sets a hand on mine. I lower the contract and look at her. She smiles but starts fighting her own tears when she sees the ones brimming in my eyes. I open my arms and she launches into me, the way she did with Banks the other day. I pull her into my arms. We hold each other until she pulls away. I take a breath and she wipes her face again.
“This is a terrible negotiation.” I swallow. “You get nothing out of it.”
“I get you. I get to see you do what you were meant to do,” she says, and fuck, I might start crying again. I don’t. I take a breath, and then another, and manage to remain composed.
“Lyla.”
“It’s the best contract I’ve ever signed,” she says.
“But soccer. . .”
“It says ‘so long as she is able,’ for a reason.” She smiles with a shrug. “I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed, but just in case.”
“Fuck, Lyla.”
“You’re not going to fight me on this,” she says, serious again.
“I don’t think I’d win, if I tried.” I laugh at the truth in my words.
She kisses me again, a deep kiss I instantly feel in my pants.
“Why are you wearing this?” I squeeze her hips and groan against her mouth.
“Because it looks good on me.”
“Too good.”
She gives me one more kiss and stands up. My eyes trace her body from the hem of the skirt to her beautiful eyes.
“Lift up. . .”
“No,” she says quickly before I finish the sentence. She backs away even faster, until she reaches the door.
“No?” I toss the papers aside and stand up. “Come here.”
“Lachlan Duke, I am not fucking joking,” she says, in her no-bullshit voice that turns me on even more.
I groan. “I’ll be fast.”
“They’re waiting for us,” she says, but the fire in her eyes tells me she wants this as much as I do. “We’ll come back after the meeting.”
I take a breath. “Fine.”
“I still think my fiancée should have consulted me,” I say when we walk back into my father’s office. “But I understand why she didn’t. For the record, I still think all of you are assholes,” I say, and look at my mother. “Except you, Mom.”
She laughs. “Well, I guess we should leave so you can pack a bag,” she says to Lyla.
