Chapter 4

Clarice hailed a yellow taxi. It wasn't large enough. Sterling dismissed it with a wave of his hand and spoke into his wrist. The black sedan, a modified Maybach with a discreet wheelchair lift, pulled up silently.

Sterling opened the wide door, and a ramp extended. Clarice watched as Colton expertly maneuvered his chair into the vehicle, locking it into place. The interior was more like a private jet than a car.

She slid in next to him. The backseat was spacious, but the tension made it feel small.

Colton didn't move. He sat with his hands resting on the wheels of his chair, his posture rigid.

"Sterling will brief you on the rules," he said. He didn't turn his head.

"Okay," Clarice typed on her phone, showing the screen to Sterling, who sat in the opposite-facing seat.

"First," Sterling said, all business. "Mr. Bentley's finances. Officially, he lives on a fixed income from a trust. We cultivate an image of modest means to discourage opportunists. You will adhere to this narrative."

Clarice nodded vigorously. She typed: I understand. Protect his assets.

Sterling's eyebrow twitched in approval. "Exactly."

"Second," he continued. "Due to Mr. Bentley's... condition. And his preference for privacy. The marriage is in name only. There will be no fulfillment of marital duties. You will have separate quarters."

Clarice felt heat rush to her cheeks. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

She typed quickly: That's fine. Perfect, actually. I'm not looking for... that.

"Good."

"I have conditions too," Clarice typed, feeling bold. She showed the screen to Sterling.

"Name them."

"I need the funds specified in the contract wired to an offshore account within 24 hours of the ceremony. And... I require absolute privacy regarding my personal projects. No one enters my room or accesses my computer without my permission."

Colton turned his head toward her. "I will handle the funds. Your privacy will be respected."

The driver was watching them in the rearview mirror, his face a mask of professional indifference.

Clarice's phone buzzed again. A text from Gavin.

Gavin: You'll regret this. Tiffany is going to ruin you if you make a scene.

Clarice blocked the number. She shoved the phone into her bag.

The car pulled up to the curb. "City Hall," the driver announced.

Sterling exited first, opening the door and deploying the ramp. Clarice watched as Colton wheeled himself out onto the wet pavement.

His wheel caught in a crack in the sidewalk, jarring the chair to a sudden halt. He pitched forward.

Clarice lunged. She wrapped her arms around his torso, catching him before he could fall out of the chair.

Her face pressed against his chest. She smelled cedarwood and something crisp, like expensive gin.

"I've got you," she whispered, the words escaping her lips in a raw, instinctual puff of air.

Colton steadied himself. He didn't pull away immediately. He leaned his weight against her, just for a second.

"Apologies," he murmured. "Balance is... tricky."

Clarice pushed him back gently until he was secure in his chair. Her hands lingered on his shoulders. Her professional instincts kicked in. She subtly assessed his posture, the tension in his upper body. No sign of atrophy in his shoulders or arms. Interesting.

She pulled away, tapping his cane on the concrete.

She shook her head, clearing the thought. He was her husband now. A business partner.

They entered the sterile building. It was late, but the night clerk was there.

Sterling approached them, holding a thick stack of papers.

"Bentley party?" the clerk asked.

"Yes," Colton said.

Sterling handed Colton the stack. "Standard forms. The full two-hundred-page prenuptial. Sign at the bottom."

Colton passed the folder to Clarice. She looked at the papers. Prenuptial Agreement. Separation of Assets.

It stated that whatever he had before the marriage was his, and whatever she had was hers.

She signed it without hesitation. She had nothing. He had everything. It was fair. And all she cared about was the wire transfer.

Colton's hidden eyes tracked the pen as she signed. No hesitation. No reading the fine print to see if there was a loophole.

She passed the test.