you just buy her out? Make her an up-front offer she can’t refuse?” Serena had seen him do that before, with a micro-brew whose beers were undercutting Beaumont’s Percheron Drafts line of beers. Chadwick had let negotiations drag on for almost a week, wearing down the competitors. Then he walked in with a lump sum that no sane person would walk away from, no matter how much they cared about the “integrity” of their beer. Everyone had a price, after all.
“I don’t have a hundred million lying around. It’s tied up in investments, property...the horses.” He said this last bit with an edge, as if the company mascots, the Percherons, were just a thorn in his side.
“But—you have a pre-nup, right?”
“Of course I have a pre-nup,” he snapped. She flinched, but he immediately sagged in defeat again. “I watched my father get married and divorced four times before he died. There’s no way I wouldn’t have a pre-nup.”
“Then how can she do that?”
“Because.” He grabbed at his short hair and pulled. “Because I was stupid and thought I was in love. I thought I had to prove to her that I trusted her. That I wasn’t my father. She gets half of what I earned during our marriage. That’s about twenty-eight million. She can’t touch the family fortune or any of the property—none of that. But...”
Serena felt the blood drain from her face. “Twenty-eight million?” That was the kind of money people in her world only got when they won the lottery. “But?”
“My lawyers had put in a clause limiting how much alimony would be paid, for how long. The length of the marriage, fifty thousand a month. And I told them to take it out. Because I wouldn’t need it. Like an idiot.” That last bit came out so harshly—he really did believe that this was his fault.
She did some quick math. Chadwick had gotten married near the end of her first year at Beaumont Brewery—her internship year. The wedding had been a big thing, obviously, and the brewery had even come out with a limited-edition beer to mark the occasion.
That was slightly more than eight years ago. Fifty thousand—still an absolutely insane number—times twelve months times eight years was...only $4.8 million. And somehow, that and another $28 million wasn’t enough. “Isn’t there...anything you can do?”
“I offered her one fifty a month for twenty years. She laughed. Laughed.” Serena knew the raw desperation in his voice.
Oh, sure, she’d never been in the position of losing a fortune, but there’d been plenty of desperate times back when she was growing up.
Back then, she’d just wanted to know it was going to be okay. They’d have a safe place to sleep and a big meal to eat. To know she’d have both of those things the next day, too.
She never got those assurances. Her mother would hum “One Day At a Time” over and over when they had to stuff their meager things into grocery bags and move again. Then they finally got the little trailer and didn’t have to move any more—but didn’t have enough to pay for both electricity and water.
One day at a time was a damn fine sentiment, but it didn’t put food on the table and clothes on her back.
There had to be a way to appease Chadwick’s ex, but Serena had no idea what it was. Such battles were beyond her. She might have worked for Chadwick Beaumont for over seven years, might have spent her days in this office, might have attended balls and galas, but this was not her world. She didn’t know what to say about someone who wasn’t happy with just $32.8 million.
But she could sympathize with staring at a bill that could never be paid—a bill that, no matter how hard your mom worked as a waitress at the diner or how many overtime shifts as a janitor your dad pulled, would never, ever end. Not even when her parents had filed for bankruptcy had it truly ended, because whatever little credit they’d been able to use as a cushion disappeared. She loved her parents—and they loved each other—but the sinking hopelessness that went with never having enough...
That’s not how she was going to live. She didn’t wish it on anyone, but especially not on Chadwick.
She moved before she was aware of it, her steps muffled by the carpeting. She knew it would be a lie, but all she had to offer were platitudes that tomorrow was a new day.
She didn’t hesitate when she got to the desk. In all of the time she’d spent in this office, she’d never once crossed the plane of the desk. She’d sat in front of the massive piece of furniture, but she’d never gone around it.
Today she did. Maybe it was the hormones again, maybe it was the way Chadwick had spoken to her yesterday in that low voice—promising to take care of her.
She saw the tension ripple through his back as she stepped closer. The day before, she’d been upset and he’d touched her. Today, the roles were reversed.
She put her hand on his shoulder. Through the shirt, she felt the warmth of his body. That’s all. She didn’t even try to turn him as he’d turned her. She just let him know she was there.
He shifted and, pulling his opposite hand away from his face, reached back to grab hers. Yesterday, he’d had all the control. But today? Today she felt they were on equal footing.
She laced their fingers together, but that was as far as it went. She couldn’t make the same kinds of promises he had—she couldn’t take care of him when she wasn’t even sure how she was going to take care of her baby. But she could let him know she was there, if he needed her.
She chose not to think about exactly what that might mean.
“Serena,” Chadwick said, his voice raw as his fingers tightened around hers.
She swallowed. But before she could come up with a response, there was a knock on the door and in walked Matthew Beaumont, Vice President of Public Relations for the Beaumont Brewery. He looked a little like Chadwick—commanding build, the Beaumont nose—but where Chadwick and Phillip were lighter, sandier blondes, Matthew had more auburn coloring.
Serena tried to pull her hand free, but Chadwick wouldn’t let her go. It was almost as if he wanted Matthew to see them touching. Holding hands.
It was one thing to stick a toe over the business-professional line when it was just her and Chadwick in the office—no witnesses meant it hadn’t really happened, right? But Matthew was no idiot.
“Am I interrupting?” Matthew asked, his eyes darting between Serena’s face, Chadwick’s face, and their interlaced hands.
Of course, Serena would rather take her chances with Matthew than with Phillip Beaumont. Phillip was a professional playboy who flaunted his wealth and went to a lot of parties. As far as Serena could tell, Phillip might be the kind of guy who wouldn’t have stopped at a simple touch the day before. Of course, with his gorgeous looks, he probably had plenty of invitations to keep going.
Matthew was radically different from either of his brothers. Serena guessed that was because his mother was Hardwick’s second wife, but Matthew was always working hard, as if he were trying to prove he belonged at the brewery. But he did so without the intimidation that Chadwick could wear like a second skin.
With a quick squeeze, Chadwick released her hand and she took a small step back. “No,” Chadwick said. “We’re done here.”
For some inexplicable reason, the words hurt. She didn’t know why. She had no good reason for him to defend their touch to his half brother. She had absolutely no reason why she would want Chadwick to defend their relationship—because they didn’t have one outside of boss and trusted employee.
She gave a small nod of her head that she wasn’t sure either of them saw, and walked out of his office.
* * *
Minutes passed. Chadwick knew that Matthew was sitting on the other side of the desk, no doubt waiting for something, but he wasn’t up for that just yet.
Helen was