Скачать или смотреть The richest Man in the city underestimated the wrong woman

The morning Leopold Carrington decided to take a wife, he did not consult his heart.

He consulted his lawyer.

The documents were already prepared when Rosalind Beaumont arrived at Carrington House — a stack of papers sitting on a mahogany desk the size of a small boat, beside a crystal decanter of bourbon no one had touched, in a room that smelled of leather and cold ambition. She had been given thirty minutes' notice. She came anyway.

That was the first thing Leopold noticed about her.

Not her dress — though it was clearly her best one, pressed carefully and slightly out of season. Not her hands — though they were folded in her lap with the practiced stillness of a woman who had learned long ago that trembling was a luxury she could not afford. What he noticed was that she sat down before he offered her a chair.

Small detail. But not small enough for him to miss it.

"Miss Beaumont." His voice carried the particular flatness of a man who had not needed to soften his words in a very long time. He remained standing behind the desk, which was almost certainly intentional. "I assume you've been informed of the terms."

"I have." Her voice was steady. "Your solicitor was thorough."

"Then you understand this is not a courtship."

"I understand it is a business arrangement." A pause, precise as a scalpel. "As do you."