“So you’ve decided after all?”—after coming to herself, Dad asked, smiling as he added: “There you go, smart girl. Send me a list, I’ll show it to my lawyers and ask them to draw up a prenuptial agreement.”
“I won’t send it to you,” I snorted, shaking my head, and warned: “No lawyers, Dad. We’ll make this agreement between ourselves, spell everything out point by point, and ‘play’ at being a family.”
“Play at it?” He frowned.
Unable to tolerate my antics anymore, Dad found me a fiancé obsessed with family values.
He’d expected that, frightened by marriage, I would straighten out and turn to family life—but he’d miscalculated badly…
I agreed.
It’s a sin to miss such a fantastic chance to spite the strict parent and tug the mustache of a seasoned, wealthy, cool man. He knew what he was getting into, so let him not complain.
By agreeing to marriage, I could thoroughly mock the self-confident upstart who thought he was ready to manage me, my life, and—judging by everything—Dad’s business too.
For him, I wasn’t an obstacle, and that was exactly what I intended to fix.