She reached for the envelope, but yanked her hand back before she actually touched it. If she opened the envelope then she’d be faced with the task of signing the papers, effectively ending her marriage.
She let out a sigh, pumped her fist and reached for the envelope once more. Picking it up by the slightest tip of one corner, she slid it off the table toward her. Holding it up in the air, she inspected the exterior. There was nothing on the outside except Andre’s handwritten name.
Tasha sucked in a breath and for the first time seriously considered opening it. Well, you did ask for this, she reminded herself. “Since when have I ever gotten anything I’ve asked for?” she muttered.
Well, it’s now or never. From somewhere deep inside, Tasha found the courage, or maybe it was stupidity, to open the envelope. She ripped the top off and peered inside. Nothing but papers. Gently, she pulled the document out and started reading.
It was mostly mumbo-jumbo about the party of the first part and the party of the second part and other nonsense like that. It wasn’t until she’d perused through about half of the document that the clouds began to clear. She wanted to read it carefully to make sure the agreement she and Andre had come to hadn’t been changed. She doubted Andre would change it, but she wouldn’t put it past Maurice. He wasn’t exactly happy that Tasha wanted to divorce his son.
There was no decree of divorce, no bequeathment of one hundred million dollars to Tasha. There was no declaration that their unborn child would be Andre’s heir apparent to Mont Claire Enterprises. But…if Tasha was reading this thing right, Andre had given up any claim to Mont Claire Enterprises. Instead of divorce papers, this looked like a document to relinquish the company and all its holdings to Tasha.
That couldn’t be right. Tasha tossed the papers onto the coffee table and grabbed her cell phone. Now she regretted not opening the envelope while Harvey was still at the house. She punched his number into the phone and waited.
“Martel,” he answered.
“Harvey, it’s Tasha de Laurent.”
“Tasha…what can I do for you?”
“I was just reading over the papers and I must be reading it wrong.” She stopped and took a deep breath. Was she nuts? She exhaled and added, “I thought these were divorce papers, but it seems to be some kind of transfer of property?”
“No. Those aren’t divorce documents. They’re simply a transfer of ownership,” he said. “As soon as you sign, Mont Claire, the houses, and the money Andre inherited from Edouard Renault will belong to you.”
“Me?”
“You. It’s one hundred percent yours.”
“Holy shit,” she said, disconnecting the call.
Tasha had called Andre, and now she stood at the double French doors looking out over the garden while she waited for him to arrive. She could see her Angel’s memorial stone from where she stood. She liked that and was thankful that Andre had been thoughtful enough to move the statue to Avignon.
Looking down at her baby bump, she laid her hand on it and gave a little caress. At four months along, she was starting to feel a sense of confidence in the doctor’s prognosis for a healthy pregnancy this time.
The doorbell chimed, but she didn’t jump this time. Maybe she was getting used to it. That was good. She’d be here for a long time. This was, after all, going to be her baby’s childhood home. Tasha wondered if she’d find it hard to leave this place in twenty years. Maybe. Probably.
The doors to the library opened up. Tasha was expecting to see Jordan, but instead found herself face-to-face with Andre. He stopped just inside the door with one hand behind his back. He stood there looking at her with those eyes and that smile. Both turned her inside out.
“You ring the doorbell now?” She ramped her voice up a notch on the stern meter, hoping to quell the desire overcoming her.
He chuckled and shook his head. “No, that wasn’t me. It was the florist.” He waved a bouquet of white roses at Tasha. “These are for you.”
They were beautiful, not to mention her favorite. “Thank you.” She took the flowers and glanced away, feeling the heat from blushing warming her cheeks. Lord, she was a fool for that man.
“You’re welcome.” He looked at the envelope in her hand. “Is that the papers?”
That brought her back to reality. She poked the envelope at his chest. “What is this?”
“It’s my declaration.”
“Declaration…?” She felt her brow wrinkle. “For what?”
Andre moved toward her and took the envelope from her, then dropped it onto the table. He slipped his hands around hers, saying, “I’m trying to prove myself to you.”
“By turning Mont Claire over to me?” she asked. He nodded. “But Andre….”
“Look…” Andre released her hand and sat down on the couch. He grabbed the envelope and pulled out the papers. “I’m prepared to do whatever it takes,” he said, looking around for a pen. After locating one in the coffee table drawer, he signed the document in all the appointed places and handed it to her with a smile. “Now, all you have to do is sign it and it’ll all be settled.” He must have seen that she was about to object, and butted in, “If you still want a divorce, the papers will be delivered tomorrow. But at least I’ll know that I’ve done everything I possibly can to prove to you that I want you more than I want Renault’s fortune.”
Tasha shook her head. “There has to be a better solution than this,” she said in a quaking voice. “It’s not fair for me to take everything from you just to make myself feel secure.” Tasha dropped down onto the couch and buried her face in her hands. Taking Andre’s inheritance from him was not what she’d wanted at all.
“If that’s what it takes.” He sat down beside her and graced her arm with a gentle touch. “Honestly, Tasha…without you the money means nothing.”
“Well, I like insecurity a lot better than guilt.” She gave Andre a determined look. “I don’t want either of us feeling like we’re playing second fiddle to a bunch of money.”
“You want to give it away?”
She stared at him, unsure about whether or not he was serious. “No, I don’t want to do that either. It’d be careless to throw away our baby’s birthright.”
A grin touched the corners of his mouth. “That is sound thinking.” He tilted his head to one side. “So what do we do…aside from divorcing?” Andre shook his head. “I really don’t want to divorce.”