Nevertheless, after an insufferable board of directors meeting twenty minutes before, I’d have to wait until I calmed down enough to see any color besides red. Or trust myself not to punch holes in the walls. Because this asshole board had stabbed me in the back. And honestly, I was still reeling.

It had just gotten personal.

A knock on my door came almost exactly a half-hour after the BOD meeting had adjourned. At that time, I’d hurriedly excused myself—pretty much the only way I was going to keep my cool. I hadn’t been very successful. Doubtless, others noticed that I was angry and seconds from losing it on everyone around me.

I called for whoever it was—probably Jordan—to come in. Not only did I get him, but also David Weiss, our chairman of the board, as a bonus. Great. I could be rude to Jordan, and he’d take it like the punching bag he deserved to become. But with David around, I wouldn’t be able to pull the gloves off. I respected David too much to drop the number of F-bombs and general threats required to get through Jordan’s thick skull.

I stood, stuffed my hands in my pockets, and walked to the window, staring out at the purpling sky.

“Hey, Adam,” David said. Jordan, wisely, kept his mouth shut. “Just wanted to, ah, stop by and check up on how you are doing.”

“I’m doing the same as I was thirty minutes ago in the meeting,” I replied in a flat voice.

David paused. “Well, that didn’t seem to go over well. So that’s why I’m here.”

I turned back to him where he stood near the door. David was a man in his mid-fifties, someone I’d known and admired for a decade. He’d been the one to recruit me for my first job—persuading me to quit college and go work for him at Sony years ago. And when the time had come to start my own company, he’d given me his blessing on that, too.

I folded my arms over my chest. “You’re going to try to talk me out of going to war with the board.”

He grimaced. “That would be unwise.”

I balled my hands into fists, gritted my teeth, but did not reply. There was no way either of them would understand.

“Adam—” Jordan began.

“I’ve already heard everything you’ve had to say on this subject in Tokyo,” I said.

“Try to analyze this logically.”

I turned on him, fists now dropped to my sides. “Tell me that you’re going to make April sign one of these when it’s your turn,” I snarled.

Jordan’s brow twitched, and he shot a self-conscious glance at David. I knew he wouldn’t give me his sarcastic one-liner about not being stupid enough to get married. Not in front of his girlfriend’s father, he wouldn’t. Yeah, I was putting him in a shit-tastic position by throwing that at him in front of David, but right now, I was too pissed to care.

Jordan cleared his throat, and the look in his eyes spoke darkly of budding resentment. “When the time comes, yes, I’ll ask her to sign one.”

“Really…and you think she’d be okay with that?”

Jordan flushed, and David moved deeper into the office and sank into one of the available seats. “I do,” he answered for Jordan.

I blew out a breath and ran my fingers through my hair. “But she has assets to protect, too, right?” Jordan and David shared a long look, but didn’t answer. “I see what this shit is about. It’s because Mia is poor.”

David leaned forward. “Adam, trust me, I’ve been through this. It’s not a walk in the park by any means. I’ve been married twice—prenups both times—and—”

I gestured in a cutting motion to him, and his mouth snapped shut, his eyes widening in surprise at my rudeness. Despite my earlier misgivings about being candid in front of David, I had zero fucks to give for his hurt feelings. “Neither one of you knows what it’s like to be poor. I do. Until I was in my teens, there were days where we went without food or even knowing where we were going to sleep that night. Mia’s never had to live like that, but I refuse to put her in a position—”

“No one’s asking you to impoverish her, Adam.” David shifted in his seat to cross an ankle over his knee. “Jordan is right. You’re being entirely too emotional about this.”

That was a low blow. I turned back to the window. “Yeah, God forbid I be emotional about my future, about my goddamn marriage. God forbid I want to protect the feelings of the woman I love.”

“Maybe you should talk to her about it,” Jordan said quietly. I heard him sink into the chair beside David. “Just in the context of what the board has asked you.”

I scrubbed a hand over my face, wanting them both gone as quickly as possible.

Putting that paper in front of her to sign would be saying that I considered myself above her. That my money was more important than her feelings. That we were not equal, when my feelings and perception were very much the opposite of that.

I could imagine the look on her face, in her eyes, if I asked her to do this. To witness a spark of what made her her die just a little. To know that the trust she’d assumed I had in her was merely an illusion.

And the knowledge that if she didn’t sign the paper, we couldn’t get married…that the board was now coercing me to require her to do this. Or she’d never be my wife. That rankled most of all. That they were ripping control of this situation—of the financial welfare of our marriage—away from me and insulting my future wife in the process.

The board threatened to make me choose between my job and Emilia, like some medieval drama featuring star-crossed lovers avoiding an arranged marriage. I was the CEO of this company. A billionaire before the age of thirty. I knew how to run my own life, goddammit. Why did I feel like I had less control over my future than ever?

My shoulders stiffened. “I’m not going to let a board of directors micro-manage my private life,” I finally muttered.

“Adam, can you sit down with us for a minute?” David’s voice sounded strained now. I recognized the tone. Every deadline I’d almost missed. Every envelope I’d tried to push all those years ago when he was my boss. Those sounded exactly like this. “Can we talk this out? It’s really not as bad as you think.”

I turned and went back to my seat, sank slowly down into it, and then glanced at my watch. “I’m only doing this for ten minutes. You two aren’t going to convince me that I’m wrong.”