Keane studied her naked form. But only for a moment. And from the way his eyes drifted down then back up to her face without lingering, Lena couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw.
He closed the door behind him. The small click sounded as loud as a cannon boom in all that silence.
“You have some conditions,” Keane repeated.
Lena wasn’t sure. But it sounded like his statement was an invitation to continue speaking, so she did, with a huge swallow. “Yes, conditions…”
And that was pretty much as far as she got on her first attempt to talk. You’re naked, her brain screamed. As exposed as you can get. And you’re trying to negotiate with the devil.
Coming in here and stripping naked had seemed like such a good idea a few minutes ago after she tucked Max in bed. She’d imagined throwing him off with her bold move, evening the playing field just a little.
But Keane acted like finding a woman naked in his room was NBD—totally no big deal. You know, Tuesday.
Maybe it was a big old case of whatevs with him. She’d gone out of her way not to track his comings and goings after what happened in his Beacon Hill condo. But even she couldn’t miss all the ads he’d started appearing in after signing up for the incredibly popular “What’s Stopping You?” campaign along with other disabled pro-athletes, like that blind football player, Beau Prescott. Keane was a celebrity and apparently a damn good businessman now.
And she was a therapist, way, way out of her league. A dolphin to his shark.
Could she do this? Could she really pretend to be as hard of a negotiator as him? Especially when every instinct she had was screaming at her to put her robe back on and run and hide in her room.
But no, she couldn’t run. Not this time. She had to do this. For Max and for the Institute, who had done nothing wrong, except hire her one summer eleven years ago to be their intern.
Yes, the Institute…good a place to start as any. She grabbed on to that and used her respect and love for the non-profit to make her voice strong. “If we do this, you can’t threaten the institute. In fact, I want you to sign a 30-year endowment agreement, stating that they’ll receive funding from DGK no matter what. They’re doing amazing work and it’s not fair that you’ve somehow accumulated enough power over them to shut them down.”
If her words aroused any guilt in him whatsoever, it didn’t show. His eyes barely flickered before he said, “Fifteen years.”
“Twenty. I want any child that might come out of this agreement to be of college-age, so that you can’t manipulate me or them.”
He shrugged. “Okay, twenty.”
“Also, I don’t want any gender differentials in the custody agreement. No matter what the gender of the next kid, if it’s stipulated in the contract, she has to have access to it, too.”
“But Keane Academy is a boys’ only?”
Lena tilted her head. “I’m aware of that, but you seem really driven. I’m sure you’ll be able to figure this out, or maybe even better yet, leave the hockey camp requirement out altogether.”
“Fuck that,” he answered. “I got five years. We’ll add a girl’s program if it comes to that. That will get us through until the boys start checking.”
“And if she decides to stay even after she gets knocked into a wall? Or try out for AAA?”
Keane shook his head as if the idea of a girl as fierce as that belonged in the same realm of fantasy as unicorns. “I guess I’ll make the elite teams co-ed, too if she wants to try out.”
“Co-ed…” She thought about that and nodded. “Okay, I can live with that. And one more thing, but it’s very important. I have a practice to return to in Pasadena after my training is done. The core custody agreement has to state explicitly that I’ll be able to return to my job and bring Max with me. The baby, too, if we get pregnant.”
His jaw ticked. “So, you’re saying after you have my baby, I’m just your sperm donor. You don’t want me in its life?”
“Keane, you’re blackmailing me,” she reminded him with a calmer tone than she felt. “I don’t want anything to do with you at all. But I don’t regret Max. He’s an amazing and resilient human being, and I think if I actually get pregnant this summer, the next kid could be great, too. Provided we work out the terms of custody beforehand.”
“You can stay here,” Keane said, in a final tone, like everything was decided because he said so. “I’ve got plenty of money.”
“I know you do, and I still don’t want any of it,” she answered, looking him straight in the eye. “I don’t ever want to be financially dependent on anyone again.”
“Is that why you and that ass tool who followed you to California broke up?” he asked. “Because you wanted to be independent?”
Lena fought hard with herself not to respond defensively. She’d learned the hard way that night in Beacon Hill. Keane always played to win and if she didn’t want to get smoked, she couldn’t engage.
“No,” she answered simply, before switching right back to her most important requirement. “I have patients and a life back in Pasadena. If I can’t go back to practice, I can’t agree to do this. That has to be stipulated in the contract.”
Keane looked at her for a long, hard time. But then he said, “Okay.”
“Okay?” she asked, barely believing he’d actually caved on the main sticking point.
“Yeah, okay. My lawyers will have something for you to sign by the end of the week.”
He didn’t look happy. At all. But her heart soared with triumph. That is until his expression suddenly switched from mildly annoyed to very intent.
That was when she realized…
Keane had agreed. To all three of her conditions. Including the one about keeping the kids with her in California for most of the year.
She had won, yes. But that also meant she would now have to pay up.
100 fucks...