Chapter 3 A Deal

Karl followed Andrew's line of sight, and his gaze landed on Cathryn. He frowned. Something about the woman's sudden presence seemed off. The timing was far too convenient.

"Mr. Brooks, please tread carefully. A trap might be awaiting you," Karl murmured, keeping his voice low.

Andrew's expression grew even more unreadable. "Find out what brought her here."

With a silent nod, Karl slipped away.

Failing to recognize Andrew, Cathryn turned to leave.

Andrew's voice, laced with sarcasm, called out behind her. "What's this—playing hard to get now?"

Cathryn's brow furrowed with confusion. "You've got the wrong person," she shot back.

Andrew stepped into her path, hands tucked in his pockets, looking down at her with disdain in his eyes. "Funny. This morning, you pretended nothing happened between us last night. And now, hours later, you show up in front of me under the flimsy excuse of a chance meeting—fishing for my attention, huh?"

Cathryn's heartbeat stumbled. So he was the man from last night. The one who had taken her virginity.

Karl hurried back, bending to speak quietly in Andrew's ear. "Her name's Cathryn Moore. She's Richard Moore's oldest daughter. Her mother slit her wrists—she died a little while ago."

Andrew's jaw tightened, his eyes dropping to Cathryn's hand for the first time. A crimson patch bloomed on her palm, bleeding into the fabric of her dress. "Get her cleaned up," he said, voice clipped.

Cathryn was taken to Andrew's place. After a hot shower and slipping into fresh clothes, a bit of life finally crept back into her cheeks.

Andrew sprawled across the sofa, absentmindedly rolling a silver lighter between his fingers, his gaze never leaving her. "So, tell me—how did you manage to fool my grandmother?"

Cathryn stood across from him. "I've never even met your grandmother. And I appreciate what you did, Mr. Brooks. But if you don't need anything else, I'll be on my way."

A short, sharp laugh escaped Andrew. She knew his last name, yet still pretended ignorance. Fine. As long as she wasn't Cara's pawn, he didn't mind a little game. "Let's make a deal." He tossed the lighter onto the table and fixed her with a steady look.

Cathryn froze. A deal? Over what? She had nothing left—no money, no connections. Why would a Brooks want anything from her?

He slid a document across the glass surface. "Read this and sign."

She lifted the document, wary. "What is it?"

"A prenup," he said, folding one leg over the other, every inch the confident, unshakable bachelor.

Cathryn's eyes widened for a beat, surprise flickering across her features.

He smirked, eyes glinting. "Isn't this exactly what you wanted? You've been after the Brooks name all along, haven't you?"

Her jaw set, irritation simmering. "You've got it wrong, Mr. Brooks. I already have a husband."

Andrew straightened and closed the space between them, his shadow casting her in darkness.

A trace of cedar and smoke lingered in the air, sharp and clean, leaving her pulse racing.

His mouth curled into a taunting smile. "If you were that loyal to your husband, why hadn't you refused to spend the night with me?"

Heat crept up her neck. He'd been drunk last night, slow to react. If she'd resisted harder, she might have gotten away. But she hadn't...

Andrew lowered his voice, fingers tilting her chin so he could study her face. "My grandmother chose you for a reason. Divorce your husband. Marry me instead. You won't want for anything."

Cathryn's eyes flickered. He seemed to have some mistaken thoughts about her. Maybe, just maybe, she could use that to her advantage.

Cathryn acknowledged that Jordyn's warning made sense. Alone, her strength was limited. With the Brooks name behind her, everything might change. Here stood a man who exuded power. Even his house screamed privilege and influence. He wasn't just another wealthy heir—he was someone who mattered. With her mother gone and every door closed in her face, there was nothing left to lose.

Squaring her shoulders, Cathryn stared right back at him. "All right. You have yourself a deal."

She flipped through the prenup. Her eyes skimmed the lines of legalese, the words blurring together. With a sigh, she shoved it right back at him. "Read it out loud. I'm not wading through all that."

He raised an eyebrow, unamused. No one ever asked him to do something so trivial. People usually fell over themselves to read things for him.

"I have dyslexia," Cathryn explained, her tone flat. "All those words make my head hurt."

He hesitated, suspicion flickering across his face. Maybe she couldn't read at all. But then, he brushed the thought aside. His grandmother wouldn't pick someone without an education.

Andrew tossed the prenup aside. "You don't need every detail. Just three things matter." He held up a finger. "First, this marriage lasts for only one year. When the year is up, no matter what happens, it ends."

Cathryn's brow arched in mild surprise. Only a year? That was easier than she expected. "I'm fine with that," she said without a hint of hesitation.

Andrew's stare sharpened. "Second, if you get pregnant, the baby stays, but you leave. You don't get to claim the child."

Her eyes narrowed. Cold. But she'd already decided—no children with him. "Understood. And the third?"

Andrew closed the distance, his voice quiet and final. "Last one—you don't get my heart. Don't bother trying for love. I expect nothing from you, and you should expect nothing from me."

A flicker of something unreadable flashed in her eyes, gone as quickly as it came. Sure, he was attractive—intense, commanding. But to her, he was just another man in a world full of them. Love was nowhere on her list.

Without hesitation, she reached for the pen and scrawled her name. "As you wish, Mr. Brooks."