The Mrs. Clause (EBOOK)

Collins 

I stood outside the London office of Knight and Del Laurentis Industries, shivering in the cold air. I watched the building, my breath misting in front of my face as I hunched my shoulders, hugging my arms around myself, searching for a modicum of warmth. Even dressed in my goose-down coat, wool scarf, and knit hat, I couldn't seem to warm the ice flowing through my veins. 

You can do this, Collins. He's only a man. He can only say no. 

But that no? It would kill me.

My phone buzzed with incoming texts. 

Honey
You’ve got this, Collins. Don’t take no for an answer.

Anika
If you need me to kill him, let me know. I’m very handy with a knife. 

Ella
And I have a husband who owns multiple boats

Blue
Between all of us, we’ll get the job done. No worries. 

I huffed out a quiet laugh, beyond grateful for the supportive women in my corner. 

Honey
Now get in there!

I straightened my shoulders, sucked in a breath and strode through the revolving glass doors of the imposing building. I'd never set foot in his office before, but the signs positioned next to the elevators indicated my destination was the top floor. 

I pressed the elevator button, the doors glided silently shut behind me as I practised calming techniques. The number above the door silently ticked over as the cart rose, taking me closer to my end goal. 

Deep breaths, Collins. Just breathe. He’s just a man you used to know. 

The elevator doors slid open, and I strode to the reception desk, hoping I projected a confidence I didn’t feel. 

A man in a stylish suit sat behind the imposing wood and steel counter, one eyebrow cocked as he took me in. 

"Can I help you?" His crisp British accent reminded me of just how far I was from home. 

Woman up, Collins. You're here to do a job. Now get it done. 

"I have an appointment with Mr. Del Laurentis at five o'clock." 

The man pursed his lips then typed something into the computer. It beeped and he paled, his gaze shooting back to me.  

"Mrs. Del Laurentis, of course. My apologies. I should have recognised you." He stood, gesturing for me to follow him to the waiting area. "Your husband is just in with a client at the moment. They won't be long. Can I take your coat? Would you like a cup of tea or coffee? Perhaps water?" 

"No, I'm fine,” I told him. 

After a brief battle, I allowed him to take my coat, giving the poor boy something to do instead of hovering awkwardly. I settled on an uncomfortable chair in the waiting room, hands clasped tight in my lap. 

The giant diamond on my left hand twinkled. I rarely wore my wedding ring, and not just because it was a clunky thing, always catching on things. I had hidden my marriage from everyone—relegating it to a painful past I had wished to forget. The world of big diamonds and corporate buildings was as far from my every day as could be. 

Hence why you came to London. 

The trip across the ocean had cost me. My little town of Capricorn Cove in Astipia was a world away from the bustle and hype of London. 

But this was where Nick was, and so here I sat—awaiting a husband who I hadn’t seen or spoken to in five years.

Oh, I’d seen images of him on newspaper stands or online magazines. Each article singing his praises as the next financial wizard. 

A door down the hall opened, and two men walked out. Nick and the man chatted easily, laughing as they walked down to the exit. 

My heart clenched as I took him in. 

No one looking at him could mistake his Italian heritage. His dark hair was stylishly windswept, his molasses eyes still brimming with intelligence and unmistakable secrets. Of average height, Nick and I stood nearly eye-to-eye, something I had, once upon a time, enjoyed. But that was before our wedding. Before words were spoken that could never be taken back. 

Breathe Collins. 

"Great to see you, Erik. I'll be in touch about that boat." 

"Of course, Nick. Have a great Christmas." 

The men shook hands and clapped each other's backs before Erik, a fellow Astipian if I picked his accent correctly, exited via the lifts. 

I watched Nick turn to his receptionist, a smile still on his lips. "Has my wife arrived, Gareth?" 

"Yes, sir. She's in the waiting room." 

I watched Nick turn, our gazes meeting for the first time in five years. 

“Hello, Nick.” 

We considered each other, him expressionless, me attempting to hide my emotions. From the flush on my face, I suspected I didn't quite manage that feat. 

"Shall we?" Nick finally asked, his perusal of me having reached its conclusion. I saw no reaction on his face as to whether or not he approved. 

"Yes," I finally said, injecting steel into my voice. I stood, and he placed a hand on the small of my back, guiding me to his office. 

The heat of his palm seared through the material of my dress, sending goosebumps racing across my back. 

I took a seat, surprised when he sat on the chair beside mine rather than behind his imposing desk. He leaned forward, his hands resting absently on his lap. 

I squirmed in my chair, the small of my back continuing to tingle as if landed by his touch.

"What brings you to London, Collins?" 

I drew in a breath, knowing this was the moment. "I need your assistance." 

He frowned. "And this brought you to London? You know you can call for anything. You're my wife, Collins. You're entitled to everything you want." 

Everything except your love. 

My heart ached, but I shook it off, pushing those emotions down and locking them away. This was not the time or the place to open Pandora’s box. 

I pulled my handbag onto my lap and removed one of two envelopes nestled inside. I handed it over, noting my trembling hands.

“I’m afraid this is a request you can't grant over the phone." 

He too the envelope, holding it in his lap as he considered me with a long, intense look. Whatever he was searching for, he must have found as he finally moved to open the envelope and pull the papers free. 

I'd read them a hundred times on the plane ride over, practically memorising every word. The sheets provided detailed the medical procedure in stunning detail, outlining exactly what to expect and his role. Nick pulled the pamphlet free, opened it, and began reading. 

I said nothing. Just sat with my arms wrapped around my handbag, waiting for him to react. 

He didn't hurry as he perused the material from front to back, then read it over a second time before placing it in his lap. 

"And this is what you want help with?" He cocked an eyebrow in question. 

"I can do it without you, but considering we're married—" I trailed off, licking my dry lips. 

He watched me for a long moment. 

"No." 

My heart seized. "No?" 

He tapped the papers. "I'm not going to jerk off into a cup so you can get pregnant." 

"IVF is a perfectly reasonable way to get pregnant." 

"No. That's final, Collins." 

Anger, hurt, and disappointment hit me in equal measure. "Okay." 

I pulled the second envelope free from my handbag, handing it over. "You've left me no choice, Nick." 

He took it, tearing the top free and scanning the document. I saw the exact moment when he found it, the highlighted section of our prenuptial agreement—page 42, Section M, subsections (R) and (S) of the contract. 

The clause stated that should we be unable to get pregnant, then either party had the right to either enter into a surrogacy arrangement or seek donor sperm. 

Nick glared at me over the paper. "No." 

"The clause states—" 

"I can read the fucking clause," he snapped, tossing the file on his desk. "I'm not allowing it." 

I threw my hands up, exasperated with him and this nonsense marriage we were trapped in. 

"I want a baby, Nick. I want a little person to love and raise and care for. If you won't donate sperm, then you've left me only two choices. Either seek a donor, which is within our prenup to do so or seek a divorce." 

His full lips pressed into a thin line, deep furrows cutting into his brow, but he remained silent. 

"Your choice." I crossed my arms to keep him from seeing the tremor in my limbs. 

Hold it together, Collins. You can do this. 

He stood, pacing the room, his hands running through his hair over and over as his long legs ate up the distance between the two walls. After a long moment, he returned to his seat. "We're not doing IVF, and there will be no divorce." 

I sighed. "There's no other—" 

He held up a hand, cutting me off. "I propose a third option." 

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. I'd agonised over this for months; I hadn’t found a third option. 

He leaned forward, his hands resting on my knees. A shiver shimmied down my spine, goosebumps breaking out across my skin at his touch. It amazed me that my body could still have such a visceral reaction to his touch when we'd been estranged for so long. 

"You want a baby?" Nick's eyes bore into mine, searching for… something. "I'll give you one. But we do it the natural way. You, me, and a bed." 

I blinked, stuttering out a stunned response. "Ex-ex-excuse me?" 

He nodded, his face deadly serious. "I'll give you a baby. But only if we try sex first." 

"Sex between… you and me?" I clarified.

"Yes." 

Oh. My. God. Is he serious?

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