Love and other contractual obligations

Chapter 3: Sign here to accept all terms and conditions

"Brandon Publishing has shown enough return in the last quarter that investors are keen to make good with all those promises from—"

Jadeite had stopped paying attention the moment he spotted his dark-haired wife sitting down opposite her one o'clock appointment, the slit of her skirt riding high on her pale thigh.

His own meeting had already started when she waltzed into his favourite restaurant and ordered tea; rest assured, his was not the only gaze to swivel her way as she removed her coat and adjusted her shirt. He let his eyes linger for a moment. They were technically married after all, even if she despised everything about him.

"It's a yes then, sir?" his assistant prompted, and Jadeite assented absently.

Wasn't she supposed to be meeting with an old high-school mate of hers? The tall one… Makoto? This brunet wasn't one of their usual contractors. He stared dumbly as a comment from this jacked up male imposter had her face lighting up in a wide grin. She was radiant; he didn't know she had a smile like that under her frosty demeanour.

His assistant's eyes were darting between her table and his apparently rapt attention, and he made himself look away. Beautiful women were a dime a dozen in this city, and his wife was certainly nothing to lose sleep over. In fact, Kenzo Brandon had always joked that his daughter was an ice-cold bitch with Brandon blood and none of the breeding. His late mentor had also been an exceedingly crass man, even by Western standards, who personified hedonism to the nth degree, so take from that what you will.

For whatever reason, she'd been present at a handful of gala evenings throughout the years. He remembered her one time standing in a corner with her arms crossed, her ostentatious red dress in stark contrast to her unadorned neck and arms, and hair left loose. Her hackles were up that night, like a cat who was preparing to have her tail stepped on, and truthfully he wouldn't have approached her even if he hadn't known she was his boss' first-born.

There was clearly very little that could be called affection between father and daughter, but it was curious to observe that despite their estrangement, his wife did remind him of Kenzo Brandon. Like the time she barged into his office and threw her copy of the will on his desk, or the way she clenched her jaw when she was really struggling to hold her tongue. They both had god-awful poker faces too.

She was smiling at the man from under her eyelashes, her head bent over her notes as he made her laugh. Then she smoothed her hair over one shoulder, and Jadeite could see the smooth skin of her neck, the fine bones of her spine. He had nearly kissed her there not long ago; maybe lower still if she'd allowed it.

A foreign rage swept through him, hot and brief, and he found himself pushing back from the table and making his way over to them. Before he knew what he was doing, he was bracing himself against his wife's back and feeling her muscles tense up under his hand. "Hello Rei."

Oh dear God.

The whack job that was Kenzo Brandon had been his mentor for close to a decade, and it seemed like that man's brand of madness had finally rubbed off.

Objectivity. He'd officially lost it.

She pulled in late, not that he was listening out for her car. The fact that he knew exactly when she entered the house made him run a hand through his hair in frustration. It was that inexplicable combination of anticipation, dread, and hyper-awareness that made him feel like he was a teenager again, waiting to be confronted about the box of condoms in his school bag.

In the year they'd been married, she'd managed to give him a very wide berth. Something about her private rebellion against Daddy dearest for dictating every aspect of her life, but hey – none of his business. He doubted it was truly personal. He could feel her eyes on him when she thought he wasn't looking, especially when he shoved his sleeves up to the elbow. He watched her in much the same way. The curve of her back, the hollow of her collarbones.

Incidentally, she had also hated every single woman he ever came into contact with, so there was that.

Regardless, she avoided him so carefully and deliberately he couldn't help but tease her mercilessly about it. When was she going to figure out that the reputation of the company did not ride on 'their united front'? It had become the basis for the way he ushered her into a room with his hand at her waist, and the reason she would hand him two fingers of Bowmore's neat as he proffered a negroni for her in exchange. He even went shirtless in his wing for two weeks, on the off-chance she'd stumble upon him and go red all over. No such luck yet.

But last week – last week made his throat go dry.

He willed his foot to quit tapping as he flicked through files without reading them. The shadows were drawing long across his office desk. Maybe she'll just ignore him like she usually did, and go straight up the stairs to her wing of the house. Then in a week or so, she'll sashay not-so-subtly into breakfast or dinner as if nothing had ever happened. The previous iterations of her sulking had amused him to no end, but today, sitting in the darkening room reading the same two lines over and over, he wasn't sure if that scenario filled him with relief or disappointment.

In the restaurant when he kissed her temple – she smelled like she did that night on the balcony. The memory was so vivid he sucked in a sharp breath.

He snapped the folder shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. That goddamn dress – he'd basically stared at her for the entirety of the charity event. And then it was her long hair brushed aside like a curtain, that bare expanse of neck, the unfurling zip. He should have stopped long before that. He should never have gone to her wing, to her room, and he never should have found her wanting him that night. Those full two minutes made him harder than anything else in his recent recollection. On the balcony, he had been a hairs-breadth from pulling her against him, where she would have felt the proof of his desire against her shapely ass.

Jadeite cursed loudly.

She'd flinched when he touched her at the courthouse. Turns out she had been right to avoid him.

"I don't appreciate being questioned like that in front of my clients."

His head jerked up at the unexpected sound of her voice.

Lately, she had taken to leaning against the doorframe of his office and announcing herself from there, rather than her tried and true sturm und drang approach. He let the seconds of silence tick between them. Rei was the picture of casual confidence in that navy pencil skirt, slit drawn dramatically up one side, white blouse tucked in at the waist. This was admittedly one of his favourite silhouettes on a woman, and she wore it well. He averted his gaze, keeping his head angled away from the door so he wouldn't stare holes into her like he'd been prone to recently.

"Are you ignoring me or something?"

He was kind of ignoring her, yes. Her heels clicked quietly as she came into the office. "You know what – you have completely lost your mind. No thanks to that little display, our reputation—" She was walking past the table, past him, to perch on the low windowsill.

"You're one to make accusations," he cut her off with a sneer, swivelling his chair around so that he faced her. The setting sun behind her lit her golden. "Who was that?"

Her eyes flashed with the beginnings of anger and she crossed her arms stiffly, but all he could see was how the action pushed her breasts up under her blouse. "Are you fucking kidding."

"Not even in the slightest." His calm voice belied his racing heart.

"It's none of your business who I hire for—"

"Actually, since he is signing what appears to be some kind of short-term contract with us, it is literally my business."

She rolled her eyes. "Quit being so dramatic; you are completely overreacting."

"Oh is that right? You told me Makoto would be taking the account. And I turn around to see this stranger making eyes at my wife?"

"He's replacing her for this bit. Kami, are you insane?"

He gritted his teeth. "And you were making eyes right back."

When had they moved on from being essentially platonic flatmates? Old Rei would have thrown something at this point, and he would have let the blow fall. Current Rei's jaw hung open and a choked noise escaped her.

In a last ditch attempt to salvage himself, he hurriedly continued, "The entire restaurant could see. This level of indiscretion is… is unacceptable."

Yes, the reputation thing.

She shut her mouth with a click, and her next words were dead quiet. "Are you accusing me of something?"

Paraphrasing Old Rei: How dare you fucking accuse me of this something.

It was a hack job, but he'd salvaged himself at least. He breathed in, out, then replied evenly. "You are perfectly within your rights to seek companionship."

She snorted. "What, like you and the legions of women you've let traipse into your bed?"

"Whatever. I don't keep count," he shrugged, "They know the rules." He was saying that a lot recently.

She hauled to her feet to flick on the wall lights. Her face had been obscured in shadow, and now he could see that her colour was up, and her hair fairly stood on end, bristling like someone had stroked against the grain. Her eyes narrowed into slits. "And you think I don't? How can I not know! That goddamn third-party clause – you can't seem to shut up about it. Ever!"

She wasn't a tall woman, but she pulled herself up so ramrod straight she seemed to tower over him in his chair. He crossed his ankle over his knee, casual as he could. "You know it so well – fine. Lay it all out then. The whole clause."

A lesser woman would have walked out, but he knew his wife. He knew his beautiful, stubborn wife and her damnable pride.

"Fine. Item fifty-seven point one." She backed up against the window but stayed on her feet, her hip cocked. "Both parties agree that extramarital affairs of any duration will be permitted without discrimination, and will not become the subject of any prenuptial disputes in the event of dissolution of the marriage."

Now that she was right in front of him like this, he let himself stare.

"Fifty-seven point two: the responsibility of discretion is laid on the participating party. All extramarital partners will be informed of the following rules and regulations governing the extramarital affair, regardless of the duration of the affair." Her delivery was slowing, her voice becoming lulling and steady. "Any and all photographs official or otherwise, accrued through the duration of the affair, will be treated as any equivalent document of confidentiality. Ad nauseum about various legal consequences in the event of deliberate or accidental dissemination."

She had a very shapely mouth. He liked to watch the way her lips curled deliberately around every word.

"Next: all extramarital partners will keep to designated areas of the joint property, not including any common areas shared by both parties. A suitable state of dress is expected where appropriate."

His gaze flicked up to her eyes, and she was as intent on him as he was on her. He must be imagining it, but her hypnotic voice was getting softer.

"Point four. Any children resulting from an extramarital affair will not be recognised—"

"My mother wants grandchildren," he suddenly interjected, his voice low, and she froze. "How do you suppose we manage that?"

He watched her wet her lips. "Uh, point four. Sorry— point five," she reddened. Truly no poker face with this one. She tilted her chin up, watching him as he slowly stood too.

"Umm… point five. Neither party will interfere with any extramarital partners including defamation, discrim—"

She could move away from him if she wanted to. She could stop at any time.

"—discrimination and sabotage. Neither party will take part in any unbecoming displays of jealousy."

He laughed lightly, "That last bit is not part of the clause." She was backed up against the wall with him only an arm's length away, yet she still managed to wear her hard obstinence so well. He suddenly wanted to part her lips and kiss her.

There was a flash of something in her dark eyes. If he hadn't spent so much time watching her, he would have missed it completely. And because he had spent so much time watching her, he was surprised to recognise it as stark vulnerability.

"You don't see me peacocking in front of all your one night stands." Her voice was so quiet. "I stay out of your way."

He jerked back, and then she was darting around the far side of the desk and out the door.

So that's it then? So stay out of mine – was that what she was going to say?

He folded back into his chair with his head in his hands. It was his own fucking fault. He should have just told her that he never touched them, that he'd sent Estelle and all the rest of those blonde bints out the side exit and home with a bottle of Chandon.

If he'd been candid, then perhaps… perhaps then, he wouldn't have just given her implicit permission to make use of that goddamn clause at all.

I'm enjoying exploring the male POV - I imagine they ruminate less, and in less convoluted ways.
Secondly, I am not a lawyer, so apologies for any butchering of contract law.

I'm having fun with this; hope you are too!

xx