Fully expecting an unqualified agreement after their activities of the previous night, Spiros was struck dumb by Phoebe’s next words.
“If certain conditions are met, yes. But there are stipulations I will not be moved on, and I don’t know how open either of you will be to fulfilling them.”
It was a good thing he couldn’t speak, or the words whirling furiously in Spiros’s mind would have revealed his and Phoebe’s secret in no uncertain terms.
Her father was not so impeded. “What are you talking about? What kind of conditions? You think to hold me hostage with my company’s well-being?”
“Isn’t that what you’ve already done with me?” Phoebe asked, without a tremor of emotion in her voice.
Aristotle flinched as if struck. “That was not my intention.”
“But it is the reality. So let’s dispense with false protestations and get down to establishing bargaining positions. The way I see it is this—Spiros wants to redeem his family’s honor.”
Spiros nodded. That much he could do at least—though she was certainly oversimplifying his reasoning.
“Father wants to save his company.”
Aristotle nodded.
“Neither of you would feel your needs were met simply by a large loan being tendered by Spiros.”
“No,” the two men said in unison.
While he had offered that option, he had also told Phoebe he needed her. Did she remember that?
“That is what I thought. The family merger being via marriage is almost as important as the other issues.”
Again the two men spoke in accord. “Yes.”
“I too want to see the company saved, and for Spiros to be at peace with his brother—which I don’t think will happen unless he is given an opportunity to right the wrongs he perceives.”
“Yes,” Spiros agreed.
“The only thing hanging in the balance is the rest of my life.”
“Mine too,” Spiros said.
“Yes,” Phoebe acknowledged.
“You said you had requirements for the marriage to take place?”
“I do.” She handed a sheaf of papers to each man and kept one for herself.
Spiros looked down at his. The top page was a simple contract—not legal so much as a formal acknowledgment of certain things. Things that she should not feel the need to spell out. He flipped to the second page before he let the growl of irritation past his lips.
The following pages were a formal contract that guaranteed Phoebe two things to do with the company. The first was a seat on the Leonides board of directors. The second was half of whatever interest in the company was granted to Spiros because of his investment. Again, that should go without saying. She was to be his wife. Half of all he had would be hers.
Funnily enough, there was no prenuptial agreement spelling that particular truth out.
Aristotle was silent until he got to the last page of the documents, and then he started to splutter.
Phoebe clasped her hands in her lap and stared at both men. “I do not think my stipulations are unreasonable.”
“You want to sit on the board of directors? You are not even twenty-five yet.”
“It’s my life being sacrificed to save the company, I believe that gives me a place regardless of my age or experience.”
“These other requirements…they are an insult.”