The Wicked Wife (Murder in Marin Book 2) (15 page)

While magazines like
People
and
Us
were expanding coverage of the biggest “fall/spring romance of the decade,” the supermarket tabloids had already decided that William and Willow were front-page coverage worthy.

It embarrassed William, who had enjoyed a relatively private life up until now. But it pleased Willow, who knew the old adage that all publicity was good publicity.
 

After a meal of pasta with veal, sausage, and porcini ragu, Willow and William took their wine glasses into what had become their favorite spot in his spacious home, the den, where they’d had their first real conversation after escaping the noise of the Black & White Ball.

As Willow ran her finger suggestively around the rim of her wine glass, she said, “I want to bring up a sensitive subject, but something I think we need to discuss.”

“Of course, sweetheart! What is it that’s on your mind?”

“Well, as I said, it’s a really sensitive subject…” She paused for emphasis.

“We can discuss anything,” he insisted.

“Our wedding is less than a month away, and we haven’t discussed the subject of a prenuptial agreement. I think it’s important that we do.”

The very fact that Willow was raising an issue that he had all but overlooked and was anxious about raising impressed William beyond words.

“Are you concerned about protecting your estate?” William asked.

“Now you’re just teasing me! You know perfectly well that my millions is pocket change when compared to your great wealth. No silly,
you
need to be protected, along with the foundation that you and Fran began. Not to mention any family and other loved ones you may want to protect.”

William reasoned he could not have fallen in love with any women of more noble intentions. As highly as he thought of his delicate flower before this moment, her stock just doubled in his eyes.
 

“I’m not surprised that someone as dear and sweet as you would be thinking about protecting my foundation, and my other personal commitments and interests. As it happens, I just a few days ago contacted one of my old law instructors. He practices family law, among other things, right here in Marin County. I asked him to draft a prenup for us both to review.”

“Oh, William, I’m so relieved to hear you say that! For the past several weeks I’ve been thinking that you would say something about this. But when you never did, I simply didn’t know what to say.”
 

Expert at tearing up on cue, Willow thought there would be no better moment than now, and she let them fall freely. “I’m, of course, happy that we’ve both been blessed with great success, and I would never want the issue of money or material things to come between us. What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is yours. That is as simple and clear as the agreement should be.”

Willow was taking a calculated risk with this tactic. But if she knew William as well as she thought she did, her pronouncement should encourage him to be even more generous in sharing his wealth with her.
 

She, of course, was right. Overwhelmed with deep admiration for her great sense of dignity and independence, William swept her up into his arms and began to kiss her tear-stained face.
 

Then, holding her tightly, he carried her up to the bedroom and passionately kissed every inch of her perfectly shaped body.
 

“No more talk of this nonsense,” he insisted. “All I want to do right now is make love to you, and then sleep holding you in my arms.”

“I am all yours,” Willow gulped through her tears. “I can’t resist you. I belong to you, and I always will.”

William left their bed early the next morning. He knew that Bob Ivan started his day at dawn, and he wanted to discuss with Bob a significant change to the draft of the prenup he had prepared.
 

“I’m going to increase the annual amount from twenty-five to one hundred million,” he told Ivan. “And I want to change the payment from the date of our first anniversary to the day of our wedding.”

“Wow! And I thought twenty-five million was generous!” Incredulous, Bob shook his head. “Do you mean the same terms, but substantially increasing your original amount?”

“No, I also, want you to move up the payments so that the first payment is transferred to her account the day of our wedding, and then another hundred million for each anniversary for the following nineteen years.”

“That’s twenty payments of one hundred million dollars a year, starting on your wedding day, for a total of two billion dollars.”

“Yes.”

These may have been unimaginable numbers to Bob, but they both knew it wasn’t his money they were talking about.
 

Further, if Willow were to leave in the days, weeks, or months after their nuptials that initial one hundred million would be hers to keep.
 

“Wow!” Bob sighed, obviously impressed.
 

“You have no idea what an incredibly special person I’m marrying. She brought up the topic of a prenup to me and suggested that she would leave with nothing more than what she had the day we married. I think I can be a great deal more generous than that.”

“Alright then,” Bob said. “I’ll make the needed changes. You’ll have a new draft agreement on your desk later this afternoon.”
 

William thanked him and clicked off.

Bob began the process of changing the terms and the amounts of the agreement, all the time thinking that William had simply taken leave of his senses.
 

Two hours after William left for his office, Willow woke to the buzzing of her iPhone.
 

JF flashed on the phone’s display.
 

She knew it was James.

“Yes?” That one word came out in a husky whisper. She wondered if it excited him.

She guessed it had because he had to clear a catch in his throat before announcing, “Your fiancé was very proud that his quote-unquote brave little Willow raised the subject of a prenup all by her little self. He called you an exceptional woman.”

“You already knew that,” Willow reminded him. “I guess I have you to thank for that timely warning.”

“You know how you can thank me.”
 

“Oops, got to go! William is calling.”
 

Not really, but as far as she was concerned, that pest James would never again grace her bed.
 

That is, unless what he brought was truly meaningful and actionable information.
 

James was not at all surprised that Willow was trying to cool it between the two of them.
 

Well, that was too bad. The sooner she realized that their relationship was even more mutually beneficial than before, the better. Right now, it was hard to say exactly what his role in bringing them together would be worth to her in the years to come—undoubtedly, hundreds of millions of dollars, perhaps a billion or more— but certainly that was worth more than a few brief encounters at a nearby hotel.
 

He fantasized having the opportunity of taking Willow away to a South Pacific island for several days of sun and surf and several nights of uninhibited passion.
 

At one time, Jade had been the object of his fantasies. But with the passing years, he had come to see her less as an exotic Asian beauty and more as a demanding, aging wife.
 

It was all the more reason James enjoyed the tension and the risk of pursuing Willow. It was even more thrilling now than when he first provided insider-trading information with her for one naughty night in New York during the city’s popular Fashion Week.
 

James was persistently patient. In time, she would realize how badly she needed him.
 

Of course, not nearly as much as he needed her.
 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

For both Holly and Sylvia, keeping track of the continuing coverage of William and Willow had become something of an obsession. When they met for a late morning walk on a sunny Saturday in the parking lot adjacent to Blackie’s Pasture in Tiburon, all they could talk about was the famous couple.
 

“Did you see the story about them in last week’s
US Magazine
?” Sylvia began.

Holly nodded enthusiastically. “I did! I thought it had a pretty awesome photo display of Willow throughout her career. I would imagine that all this publicity keeps pushing up the sales of her perfume.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it in the least!”

“The wedding is just six weeks away,” Holly said. “I guess it would be fantasizing to think that either of us will get invited.”

“Maybe—but I’m saving the date, anyway. It would make for a great column, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely!”

At that moment, Sylvia’s phone chirped. The display only read “private number.” Showing it to Holly, she said, “Do you think I should get it?”

“Heck, yes! Could be one of your social butterflies with some secrets to tell.”

She accepted the call, and in a moment squeezed Holly’s arm as Sylvia’s voice raised an octave as she said, “Oh, Willow! Hello! How are you?”
 

“Hi, Sylvia, I know this is really late notice, but I was wondering if you were around to go to a brunch or lunch with me today.”

“I’d love to, but…well, Holly and I are out taking a walk. We just left Blackie’s Pasture and are heading to the far end of West Shore Drive.”

“Ask her if she would like to join us—that is, if you didn’t have any other plans.”

Holly, who could hear a pin drop from thirty feet, was already nodding her head in agreement as Sylvia turned to look in her direction.
 

“Holly says she can make the time. Where do you want to meet?”

“How about Sam’s Anchor Café?” Willow asked.

“When?”

“Well, if you’re walking, how long would it take you to get there?”

Sylvia thought for a moment. “I’d say forty minutes.”

“Great. I’ll see you at Sam’s at 11:45,” Willow said, and clicked off.

“Well that was strange, here we are talking about her and William and she calls me.”

“Has she done that often?”