Reluctant Consent (6 page)

      
Denise
considered belting him with her bag for apologizing for her.
 
Probably a bad idea.
 
Her stomach wrapped itself in a series
of even more complicated knots.

      
She knew
herself to be, by nature, charming and gracious. She enjoyed putting people at
ease. Now she had been deliberately rude to this man, and not for anything he
had done.
 
Not like her usual
self.
 
And now she was keeping her
mouth shut after being insulted.
 
Also not like her.
 
Welcome to my freaking future.
 
Passive aggression and sulking will be
my recourse.

     
She tossed Mr.
Kincaid her most sincere high voltage smile and leaned across his desk, hand
outstretched.
 
“I am sorry, Mr. Kincaid.
 
I’m not angry
at
you.
 
I’m angry with ‘Mr. Meet My
Fiancé’. You’ll understand under the circumstances I can’t honestly say I’m
pleased to meet you.”

     
Kincaid
couldn’t get his eyes down to his desk fast enough. “Well I am happy to meet
you, Ms. Marrow.
 
Congratulations
on your betrothal.”

    
Andrew sat relaxed,
non-reacting in his chair.
 
“Denise
knows I want a prenuptial agreement, Charles.”

    
Andrew turned to
Denise.
 
“However, this agreement
isn’t about money, Denise.”

    
“No?” Denise raised
an eyebrow.
 

    
“If you want a
prenuptial agreement for financial matters I’d like you to contact your lawyer.
Ask her to work with Charles on it. I’ll sign anything you want. We’re here for
a different reason.”

    
Andrew looked at her
and she promptly rolled her eyes. If Kincaid’s receptionist got to roll her
eyes at clients she damn well got to roll them at future husbands.
 
“Please don’t keep me in suspense.” She
kept her tone completely neutral tone still managing to insinuate how close to dozing
off she actually was.

   
Andrew looked at Charles
who cleared his throat and reached for a file.
 
“I understand Denise that you and Andrew are entering into
what is commonly referred to as a Domestic Discipline Marriage.”
 
The lawyer looked calmly at Denise.

    
Denise felt herself
begin to flush.
 
She met the man’s
eyes however.
Very coldly.

   
“In these situations it is
advisable to have a written agreement between the husband and wife documenting
the consensual nature of the agreement.

      
Denise
gave a semi discreet snort and cocked her head as though she was at least
willing to pretend to keen interest.

    
“Such a document,
standing alone, wouldn’t necessarily prove anything, if a wife were to claim
she had been assaulted.
 
But
coupled with other things -- testimony from people who have witnessed the
relationship, lack of medical reports, etc., it would certainly go a long way
to demonstrating consent.”
 
He
gestured to a small object on his desk.
 
“In addition, all of my contacts are recorded, sound and video.”

      
Denise
looked at Kincaid coldly and then turned to include Andrew.
 
“Let’s be very clear here.
 
Your language about consent refers to
the fact that Andrew intends to use physical force within our marriage.
 
And I am certainly
not
consenting.
 
I
object, strenuously on a variety of levels.”

   
“Objection and non-consent
are
not the same thing, Ms. Marrow.”

     
Kincaid shot a
look at Andrew.

    
“Go on, Charles.
 
I think it’s good to have a neutral
person go over these details.”

  
   
Denise, utterly unable to help herself, rolled
her eyes one more time.
 
Fury
rampaged around her stomach, and roared up through her chest to batter at the
gates of her brain.
 
Honestly, she couldn’t
remember the last time she’d done anything as juvenile in a serious situation
as roll her eyes.
 
This damn
condescending moron’s infantilizing behavior was already affecting her and they
weren’t even married yet.

    
“You object to Mr.
Cross’s intent to use physical discipline where he finds it appropriate.
 
Is that correct?”

   
“I object to the use of any
kind of discipline.
 
I am not a
dog, nor a child.”

    
Kincaid nodded
politely.
 
“I understand.
 
And yet you are voluntarily entering
into this marriage, are you not?”

   
“No.
 
I am not. I’m marrying him for the
simple reason that I have to in order to protect my brothers.”

     
“Your reasons
for marrying Mr. Cross are clear:
 
You do so because if you don’t, custody of your brothers falls into
hands you find unacceptable.”

    
Denise nodded.
 
“Absolutely.”

   
“Is anyone physically
coercing you to marry Mr. Cross?”

  
“No.”

  
“Is anyone threatening physical
harm to anyone if you don’t marry Mr. Cross?”

  
“They will be harmed – badly
-- if they have to live with my aunt.”

   
“You believe your brothers
will be harmed if they live with their aunt.
 
Therefore you are choosing to marry Mr. Cross.
 
That
is
a choice, Ms. Marrow.”

    
Denise opened her
mouth to speak.
 
Kincaid cut her
off.

   
“Unpleasant though the
outcome of the choice may be in either situation, it is still a choice.
 
You are not being coerced into marrying
Mr. Cross.”

  
“You’re splitting hairs.
 
It’s nothing but semantics.”

  
“Legalities are all about
semantics and split hairs, Ms. Marrow.
 
Many would argue that morality is about the same issues.
 
The fact that you don’t like your
choices does not equal coercion.
 
You may feel coerced.
 
But
your thoughts and decisions are directing you.
 
That does not legally equal coercion.”

     
Denise looked
down at her lap.
 
Andrew put his
hand on her shoulder briefly.
 
She supposed
he meant it kindly but if felt incredibly condescending. She shrugged and
shoved her body forward at the same time, to dislodge it.

    
“So, Ms. Marrow, you
are not being coerced into this marriage.”Kincaid was helpfully summing up his
comments, just in case little Miss Dumb and Ditzy Fiancé had missed any
important points.

   
“You understand that final
authority in this relationship rests in Mr. Cross’s hands.”

   
“That must be so annoying,”
Denise interrupted.
 
“I never
thought about it before.
 
Going
through life with people calling you Mr. Cross.”
 
She beamed at Andrew.
 
“So appropriate.”

   
Andrew gave a half
smile.
 
It looked genuine.
 
She had failed to get under his skin.
It would be really nice to kick him somewhere vital and soft.

   
“Within the authority you
are giving Mr. Cross comes the understanding and acceptance of physical
correction of yourself by Mr. Cross.”

   
“I do not accept it.”

    
Andrew looked at her
calmly, one brow raised.
 
“So we
are not marrying?”

    
“Yes, we’re getting
married.
 
I don’t accept your
paternalistic, chauvinistic way of living.”

   
“This is not the arena for
a debate.”
 
Andrew said
calmly.
 
“This is to clarify: if we
marry these are the terms.
 
And I’m
not going to have this debate, or waste any more time clarifying terms, Denise.
You have a fine mind. You get it.
 
You don’t like it.
 
I get
that. You are agreeing to submit to it, and you are agreeing voluntarily, no
one is forcing you to do this though you don’t like either one of your choices.
 
Agree, now. Or this conversation is
closed and will not be resumed.”

    
In one small fraction
of a second silence filled the room completely.
 
Denise stared at her lap.
 
Blood pounded in her head.

   
Andrew stood up.

  
“I agree,” her voice so low it
was almost impossible to hear.
 
Her
eyes were fixed on her lap.

    
“Look at me, please.”

    
Welcome to my life.
 

    
She brought her head
up.

    
“Say it again so I
can hear you.”

   
“I agree to marry you.”

   
“The debate is over,
Denise.
 
The stubborn, making
–me- pull- answers-out-of-you is over.
 
Make an adult statement of what you are agreeing to. Do not
look away from me.”

    
Denise bowed her head
briefly.
 
Tears dripped down her
cheeks.
 
Panic strangled her.
 
He was going to leave. She had to get
herself under control.
 
“Just a
second.
 
Please.”

    
Her hand shot out and
grabbed a tissue from the desk.
 
She
blew her nose then forced her head up to meet Andrew’s stern, unyielding face.

   
“I am voluntarily agreeing
to enter into a marriage where I accept your authority as final.”
 
She dragged air into her lungs and
licked her lips.
 
“I accept your
use of discipline. Including physical.”

      
She
turned and looked at Kincaid.
 
He
gave her a small, kind smile and nodded.

    
“I promised you our
private business would not be played out in front of your brothers.”
 
Andrew’s voice was soft but rang solid
never the less.

     
Denise nodded.

   
“I want to be clear that a
great portion of that is within your control.
 
I certainly do not intend to use corporal punishment in
front of your siblings.
 
I hope not
to have to use it at all.
 
But the
authority of my relationship will at times be plain to anyone paying attention,
depending on your behavior.
 
That
is yours to control. If you fail I will exert my authority.”

     
Denise shot
fire at him from her eyes.

  
“You understand?”

  
She nodded.

 
“I expect a verbal answer.”

  
God she longed to slap him. This
was her life. This right here was what she was signing on for.
 
She wouldn’t talk to her brothers this
way in front of other people.

  
“Yes.” She snapped.

 
“I would hope not to have this
conversation in front of other people.
 
It embarrasses you and that’s not the relationship I want.
 
But I will exert my authority publicly.
You were very rude to Mr. Kincaid.”

  
Denise’s head snapped up.

 
“Stand up and apologize to him.”

   
Denise stopped
breathing.
 
She looked at Kincaid,
her mouth open in disbelief.
 
Kincaid made no comment, or betrayed in any facial way that anything
extraordinary was occurring.
 
“I
have already apologized to Mr. Kincaid of my own volition.”

    
“Now you will stand
up and do it again at my demand, Denise.” Andrew’s voice rang steely and cold.