Time should’ve dulled the cruel response’s edge, but recalling it still hurts. At least my heart doesn’t bleed like it did back then.
I torched the fucking mattress, along with all my love for her. I wanted to kick my own ass for ever thinking that she was genuine or beautiful—my angel.
“Who is this tramp?” Bebe screeches, jumping to her feet. Her tears vanish.
Normally I’d find the term amusing, especially coming from my trashy client. But Fiona fucked Jude, used to wear very little for him and clung to him even when he had other girls on his arm, so I guess “tramp” fits, although I’d add “pathetic” as well.
“Nobody. An old acquaintance,” I say coolly. That’s the nicest way to describe my relationship with Fiona.
Pain flashes in her golden-green eyes. Instead of sheer derision, a small ache of my own unfurls in my heart. I harden my jaw.What the hell’s wrong with me? She turned her back on me first. Shemessed up, not me. She deserves nothing, especially not sympathy.
“Why the fuck is this acquaintance interrupting my appointment? Does she know who I am?” Bebe raises her inch-long lacquered talons.
I quickly move around the desk. I can’t let my client commit assault and battery with witnesses in the room.
“I’m so sorry. I told her you have appointments, butshe wouldn’t listen,” Amélie says, looking at Fiona like she’d love nothing more than to murder her.
Fiona bites her lip, not meeting Amélie’s gaze. “You made me wait more than three hours. I thought you were messing with me.”
Apparently appalled at being called an unprofessional liar, Amélie glares at Fiona. “Well, are you satisfied now?”
“I’m sorry,” Fiona says.
Given Amélie’s temperament, she probably didn’t take kindly to Fiona’s appearing out of nowhere and demanding to see me. So she undoubtedly put Fiona in an area without a direct view of my office.
My eyes linger on Fiona’s soft lips. Then I recall how she said she finds me disgusting.
“Call security and drag her out,” I instruct Amélie.
She nods. “Oh, I will behappyto—”
“Wait!” Fiona says. “You said you’d do me a favor for saving Gardy!”
I pause as the memory of how we met floods my mind. Some asshole had hit my beloved golden retriever, and it was Fiona who found her, took her to the vet and cared for her until she could reach me. Gardy wasn’t just a pet, she was a source of comfort and sanity after Mom’s attempted kidnapping, critical to my recovery. When I offered to pay, Fiona declined. “No need. It’s what any decent person would do. I’m just glad Gardy is fine.”
The smile she gave me soothed the jagged edges that had stayed inflamed for over a decade. I couldn’t help but smile in return. “Okay. But any decent person would repay you for your kindness. If you ever need anything, you let me know, and I’ll take care of it. No limit, no expiration date.”
I meant every word. I wanted to help her somehow, save her day, no matter what it cost. Except she never called in the favor, while we were dating or afterward—probably because she and Jude were having too much fun cutting me up.
Guess Fiona finally remembered the impulsive promise I made and decided to cash it in. Fine. I don’t want to owe her anything anymore.
“Bebe, can you give me five minutes?” I say.
“You wantmeto wait?” Bebe’s eyes widen incredulously like I told her she has to recite the Book of Psalms before she can divorce Xavier.
“Don’t you want to win?”
“Ohh! Fine. FruFru ismine!”
“He will be.” I glance at Amélie. “Fiveminutes. Not a second more.”
She nods, narrowing her eyes at Fiona, then escorts Bebe out and closes the door. I prop myself against the desk, resting my hands on the smooth edge, my legs spread and stretched—a picture of indolent arrogance—and wait for Fiona.
Her chest heaves as she takes a shaky breath. My eyes drop for a second.Her tits aren’t that remarkable after Bebe’s.It’s an uncharacteristically petty thought. But somehow I can’t seem to look away from her.
She starts to take the seat Bebe vacated.
“I didn’t tell you to sit.”
