“One point two mill,” he calls back.
“For a car?” I squeak. My hands hover in the air, shock making me forget what I was doing.Was I about to twist up my hair?
“It’s an investment.”
“Hang on a minute.” I turn to face my bedroom door. “The prenup payout will be less than you paid for your car?”
“For one of my cars.”
“Thanks for the distinction.”Arsehole.
“Honestly? I expected you to negotiate me up.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better,” I grate out, swinging back to face my dresser again. “Because I now feel cheated.”
“Pity we already shook on it.”
“It was a verbal agreement,” I protest, whipping my knickers down my legs before yanking the new pair on. “I can’t believe you let me think you’d hold me ransom for a measly three hundred thousand pounds!”
“Wasn’t for show, princess.”
“You’re no prince,” I mutter, stabbing my legs into my shorts. “More like a toad!”
“I’m the toad because you sold yourself short?”
My head jerks up because his voice sounds closer. And he is—standing at my open bedroom door.As I stand bare breasted, in my knickers, in the middle of the floor.“Do you mind?”
He doesn’t immediately answer, his gaze an indolent slide over my skin. “Am I supposed to?”
“What would you have gone to?” I demand, refusing to cover myself while ignoring the way my nipples tingle and tighten under the heat of his gaze.
“A lot more,” he says, his voice husky now. “But a million was enough to entice you.” He drops his shoulder to the doorframe and pushes his hands into his pockets. “And, according to your balance sheets, it’s no small sum to you.”
“You didnotsneak a look at my accounts.” Grabbing my bra, I whip around to face the dresser as I slip it on. What is wrong with me? I’ll tolerate his slow perusal of my boobs, and my body, but I get arsey that he might’ve seen my accounts?
My boobs are in a better state, I suppose.
“I’m surprised your accountant is so sloppy, given your brother is a fintech superstar.”
“I chose my accountant.”Against Whit’s advice. “I have a friend who works there. Sort of a friend, anyway.” One Whit warned me against, and that’s why I went with her.I hate it when he’s right. Which is pretty much always.
“I’ll put you in touch with my finance people.”
“No, thank you.”
“They’re the best in the business.”
“Because they make you look squeaky clean?”
“Who says I’m not?”
Tod,I almost say.“Call it intuition,” I say instead. “Cunning and unprincipled and unscrupulous?” I glance over my shoulder. “Ring any bells?”
“You sound like you’ve read my school reports.”
I turn so as not to let him see my smile. But I shouldn’t be smiling, should I? Not when these seem to be the foundation of this relationship.
“I didn’t sell you short,” he then says. “You just failed to negotiate.”
