Shut Your Eyes (The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 3), стр. 52

We sink into another comfortable silence, gazing into each other’s eyes.  I could lose myself in those irises.  They’re a darker blue this morning, the flecks a deep gold.  I could spend forever looking at them, but the hours are slipping away and before long I’ll be starved of their company.

‘Are you okay?’  He traces a finger down my cheek, picking up on my concern.

‘I just want to stay here.  I don’t want to go back to reality.’

‘You and me both.’  The same finger skims across my mouth.  ‘We’ll sort this out, I promise.  And next summer, we’ll get married … surrounded by sweet peas.’

‘The deal’s completed then?’

His lips twitch.  He takes in a breath, as if he’s resigning himself to something.

‘Not quite.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, I need to give you a full and frank disclosure.  You need to know exactly what you’re getting into.’

I thought I already did.  My sense of calm eyes up the door.

‘Well, that sounds serious.’

‘It is.’

Flummoxed, I stare at him, wondering what on Earth he’s going to come up with next.  So far we’ve had the secret past and the secret wife.  I’m pretty sure it can’t get much worse than that, but I should have guessed there’d be more.

‘No more secrets … please.’

‘It’s not exactly a secret.  It’s just something I haven’t told you yet.’

‘You hoard fridge magnets.’

He laughs.

‘Got me in one.’

The laugh subsides.  While his lips straighten, his eyes continue to dance with pleasure.

‘Come on, Dan.  What is it, really?’

‘It’s about money.’

‘If you lose it all tomorrow, I’m not going anywhere.  As long as we’ve got a roof over our heads and food in the cupboards, I’m happy.’

‘You think I’m on the verge of going broke?’  He can’t help himself.  He laughs again.  ‘Priceless.’

‘Well, why else would you bring it up?’ I ask, impatient now for him to get to the facts.

‘Because you need to know about the assets you’re taking on.’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Yes, you do.’

‘Go ahead, but I’m not interested.’

‘I’m rich.’

It’s my turn to laugh.  He might as well be informing me that he’s a man, complete with two arms and two legs, and all the other things a man usually has.

‘Well, d’uh … I could have guessed.’

‘I don’t think you know how rich.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘I don’t doubt it.  But you need to know.’

And by the look on his face, I’d say there’s no way I’m going to wriggle out of this.

‘Go on then.’

He blows out a breath.

‘I don’t believe in putting all my eggs in one basket, unless we’re talking a relationship – this relationship – because all my eggs are right here, in this basket.’  He squeezes my waist.  ‘Well, I suppose technically speaking, you’re the one with the eggs.’

‘Get on with it,’ I urge him, resolving not to think about that right now.

‘Okay.’  Another breath expelled.  ‘Construction can be a fickle business, so I’ve always had a back-up plan.  Just in case.’

Fine, so he’s popped a little money in the bank, bought a few premium bonds.

‘I’ve got a pretty extensive property portfolio.  I own a lot of places along the Thames.  They’re rented out,’ he pauses, checking my reaction, ‘to other rich people.’

‘Right,’ I say tentatively, but I still have no idea why this is so important.

‘And I have an apartment here.  In Tribeca.’

Now, there’s a surprise.

‘You’ve got an apartment in New York?’

‘Yeah,’ he says dismissively, almost embarrassed.  ‘I bought it a few years ago.  It was cheap.’

‘This is mad.’

‘Along with the house in Surrey and the apartment in Lambeth, in terms of assets I’m worth about two hundred.’

He falls silent.  All I can hear is the sound of my own breathing.

‘You’re not talking thousands, are you?’

‘No.’  He picks at an imaginary piece of fluff on the sheets.  ‘When I sell Fosters, you can double that, at least.’

Fucking hell, my brain gurgles.

‘Four … hundred … million?’ I ask, dragging out each word.

‘Yes.’  He winces at the admission.  ‘And a few more in the bank.’

‘But you …’

He waits, watching me, eyebrows raised, and when I don’t go on – largely because I have no idea what I’m about to say – he fills in as many gaps as he can.

‘I support Lily’s charity, and a few others.  I could do more.  I just haven’t thought about it yet.  What with Fosters, I haven’t had time.  And yes, I have nice things, but I don’t go over the top.  I don’t need to.  I’ve got nothing to prove.’

‘But four hundred million.  Why does anybody need to be that rich?’

‘They don’t,’ he answers.  ‘I suppose I just didn’t fancy ever going back to sleeping in an outhouse.  And maybe I went a little over the top along the way.  So … now you know what you’re getting into, not that you’re getting out of it.  You’re going to be a very wealthy woman, and I want you to help me decide what to do with it all.’

I pull back a little, on the verge of hyperventilating.  I knew that marrying Dan would mean the end of money worries, that I’d be free to paint for the rest of my life, but this is ridiculous.

‘We’ll need a pre-nup.’

At lightning speed, he rolls me onto my back, pinning me down by the wrists and bringing his face close to mine.

‘There will be no pre-nup,’ he tells me, eyes steely.  ‘If I fuck up, you get to take me to the cleaners.’

‘Are you planning on fucking-up?’

‘No.  Are you?’

‘No.’  I raise my chin defiantly.  I can’t believe what I’m about to say, but I need to inject a