“Are you sure?”
“I’m certain,” I bluff. I’m only about ninety percent sure. I’d like to think that Mr. Grayson is wrong, but sometimes the law surprises me with what is and isn’t allowed.
Not even an eyelash twitches as he checks the amount. “Math. Still not your forte. This is too much.”
“Keep the change,” I say, throwing Elliot’s words at him. “A tip for services rendered. Now listen to me. We aren’t going to see each other again after this.”
Mr. Grayson taps the envelope once with his index finger, the motion surprisingly decisive. “If you do this, you’re going to sever everything with me. You won’t be able to turn to me for help the next time you get into trouble.”
“I want to sever everything with you. I don’t want your kind of help anymore.”
“Why? Do you believe your husband is going to be with you forever?” He sips his coffee thoughtfully. “You’re a pretty girl, Annabelle, but not that pretty.”
“Think whatever you want,” I say. “You’re not important anymore.”
He tilts his head and regards me for a moment. “You honestly believe what you have with him is going to work?”
“I do.”
“You love him.”
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t love the women who love him.”
“You don’t know anything about him.”
“Oh?” He laughs coldly. “Tell me something. Does he trust you? If I were to hug you and he were to walk in and see us, would he think nothing of it or would he become furious and accuse you of”—he rolls a hand carelessly—“betraying him?”
Mr. Grayson’s barb hits home, and I put my hands on the edge of the table to steady them. “He trusts me,” I say, but even to my own ear, my voice lacks conviction. But Elliot must trust me. Otherwise he had no reason to want to continue our marriage without the contract. I’m not letting Mr. Grayson sow doubts in my mind.
“Sure. I’ve looked into him, and I know things he doesn’t suspect are public.”
My breath stops for a moment. Elliot asked if I’d told Mr. Grayson about the marriage deal, but I never did. He’s been aware of it from the very beginning. And Annabelle Underhill knows, too. “Do you work for Underhill?” I ask.
Genuine confusion clouds his gaze. “Who?”
“Annabelle Underhill.”
He smiles. “The only Annabelle I know is you.”
“Julian Reed, then?” Elliot’s father is the next most logical choice.
“I’ve never even met the man.”
Squinting, I take in his measure. Mr. Grayson is no open book, but I don’t think he’s lying. “How did you know Elliot needed to marry?”
“How much is my answer worth to you?”
I gesture at the check. “The extra not enough for you?”
“You know I can’t tell you anything without commensurate remuneration.”
I snort. Commensurate remuneration. “I’m not owing you anything after I just got out from under.”
“At least you aren’t a complete idiot.” Amusement glitters in his eyes. “You used to be pretty…impulsive.”
“What I was was desperate, and you took advantage of that.”