The Contract by Marsh, Nicola (read aloud books .txt) 📕

He waved towards the stack of pill bottles, the commode, the oxygen tank standing like a lone soldier in the corner of the room.

She placed a hand over his, offering comfort like she always had. “Darling, hearing your plans for my money made me happier than you could possibly imagine. I don’t need to see my grandchild to know you’ll do the right thing in setting up a trust fund and using my money to open up a cancer facility for kids. You’ve always made me proud of you and I see no reason why that would change when I’m gone.”

He gripped his Gran’s hand, like he had the first time she took him to kindergarten. “I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I?”

She squeezed his hand. “Not with me. But I think there’s a certain young lady that needs to hear all of this.”

“What if she won’t listen?”

Hell, she’d laughed when he’d said he loved her. Why would she believe the rest of what he had to tell her?

“If she loves you, she’ll listen. Besides, aren’t you some hotshot lawyer? Use your negotiating skills.”

Ethel had been so proud of him the day he’d graduated; she’d never belittled his choice of career or the fact he needed to establish his own wealth. Pity his mother couldn’t do the same. Not that it mattered any more; once his mother discovered their plans for Ethel’s money, she’d disown him. Thank goodness.

“Amber calls me that.”

“What?”

“Hotshot.” He remembered the first time she’d called him that, full of spunk and sass. Hell, how he loved her.

And what if his grandmother was right and his wife did love him? Though he couldn’t be sure, he knew she shared his passion inside the bedroom and seemed to genuinely like him outside of it but did that equate to love after he’d told her to keep the dreaded ‘L’ word out of their marriage?

His gran chuckled. “I like the girl. Now, go get her.”

When it came to the indefatigable Ethel St. John, he always did as he was told.

* * *

Amber locked the front door and pulled down the blinds. It had been a long day in the shop. Curious customers had filed in nonstop, checking out the merchandise and spending a small fortune. Even her dad had dropped by, saying he had business in town but she knew better. He hated the fifty-minute drive from the Gold Coast to Brisbane and would avoid it at all costs, conducting all his business via the phone or Internet, so she’d known he’d come to check up on her.

Colin Lawrence looked like a new man thanks to the Rockwell cash injection that saved the carnival. Luckily, her dad had insisted on signing a proper contract for the finance; did he have some inkling that her marriage would end this way and didn’t want to jeopardise his business? If so, he’d been smarter than she had, though she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth yet.

She’d put on a brave face, blaming her strained, tired look on Harmony’s opening and thankfully, he’d believed her. After wishing her well and purchasing a small vial of lavender oil, which he occasionally burned for relaxation after years of coaxing from her, he left the shop.

Her smile had slowly waned over the day though she’d been thankful for the hectic pace that kept her mind from drifting to her predicament. She’d never wanted to be a single mother yet here she was, about to become just that. As for divorce, that only happened to other people who didn’t want to work at keeping their marriage alive or so she had foolishly thought.

A single tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away angrily. She’d cried enough tears last night to fill the Pacific Ocean and had sworn she wouldn’t wallow in self-pity anymore. She had a business to run, a baby to grow and a future that could become anything she wanted to make it. Then why did she feel like her chakras were way out of sync?

A loud banging on the front door interrupted her musings.

“We’re closed,” she called out but the noise continued.

“Okay, okay, hold your horses.”

As she peeked through the blind, she saw the last man she expected or wanted to see. Worse, her traitorous heart leapt at the sight of him, looking a million dollars in his trademark suit.

“Amber, we need to talk.”

Typically, Steve made it sound like an order, not a request.

She dropped the blind and turned away from the door, leaning against it. “Go away. I have nothing to say to you.”

“I have plenty to say to you so open this door. Now.”

She hated being controlled almost as much as she hated being lied to, two things her husband seemed to excel at. Folding her arms across her chest, she shouted, “Make me.”

“Don’t push me, Amber.” His voice had dropped low, dangerously so. Not that she cared. What could he do to her? He’d already ripped her heart out.

“Why not? It’s not like you care or anything.” Amber knew she sounded petulant; in fact, she sounded downright childish. She should be ranting and raving like a proper adult, not pouting like some jilted teenager.

However, that one glimpse of Steve through the blinds had undermined all her intentions to push him away. He looked haggard, his steel grey eyes ringed by dark circles, day-old stubble covering his jaw and his tie askew with the top button of his shirt undone. She always knew he was rattled when he undid his top button, for her suave husband, the consummate professional, wouldn’t be caught dead looking anything less than immaculate.

He rattled the doorknob. “Amber, let me in. We can’t have this conversation