“Lavender. What a pleasant surprise.”
Raif’s lawyer appears in front of me, his hands outstretched as though expecting me to drop a gift into them. Red-brown hair and a sharp suit, his strikes me as a very familiar form of address for a man I’ve said two words total to. But I suppose he was at my wedding. Maybe that makes him feel like he knows me. Or maybe he and Raif are friendly. They’re around the same age.
“Mr. Tierney, hi. I’m sorry for turning up without an appointment, but I wondered if you might have a few minutes to spare.” My fingers tighten on my purse, my gaze sliding to the receptionist. “It’s quite a delicate matter.”
“Of course,” he says, already turning. “Come right this way. Hold my calls, Victoria,” he instructs, almost as an afterthought.
I follow his tall form through a stylish open-plan office that seems to take up almost the entire floor. It’s still a hive of activity at almost five o’clock, women in stylishly cut dresses and pantsuits and men in ties and shirtsleeves still looking sharp for the time of day.
“We’re through here,” he says, swinging open an oversized door that leads to a swanky corner office, the windows offering a view over the River Thames. “Can I get you a drink,” he asks, heading for his desk and swiping up a remote.
“No, thank you.” I take a seat on an uncomfortable-looking leather sofa.Story checks out,I think as my bum practically bounces from the taut fawn-colored skin covering the seat.
“You’re sure? It’s five o’clock,” he adds in what I think is meant to be a tempting tone.
“No, but thanks. Things to do, people to see. You know how it is.”
“That I do.” He turns away as a wooden wall panel glides open, revealing a bar, complete with glistening crystalware and top-shelf liquors. “That’s more or less what I do for a living,” he says as icechinksand liquid is poured. “Do people.” As he turns, he puts me in the mind of a cartoon animal, though I’m not sure which.
The Lion Kinghyenas, maybe.
“Cool,” I reply, wondering why he would say that.
“I must say, I’m surprised to see you here so soon.”
“Soon? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
His lips curl, though his eyes remain on the glass in his hand. He pushes off from the bar, crossing the room to sit on the leather chair kitty-corner to the sofa.
He sips at his drink, almost absorbed in it, before he sets the glass down on the low coffee table. “The money, I suppose. So soon after the money.”
“I’m not here about money,” I begin. Then I stop. Rewind. “What money are we talking about?”
“Your prenup. It was released to your account this afternoon.”
I shake my head as though my ears are waterlogged. “But…”
“Didn’t Raif tell you?”
“Well, no. Obviously.” I begin to search in my purse for my phone.
“That’s a shame, but I have to say it isn’t a surprise. You’re not the first woman he’s dropped on a whim.”
“No, that’s not what this is,” I say with a soft chuckle. But then, because I’m me, I begin to wonder, phone in hand, if I’m mistaken and now him.
No. I’m not. I just got a text from him.
I swipe to my banking app, thumbing in my login details, my thoughts resolute—all in, he loves me. “So who else has Raif dropped on a whim?” Because what woman doesn’t want to know those details.
“His fiancée. His previous fiancée, that is.”
“You mean Celine.” I lift my gaze just in time to see his eyes move over me in a way that makes my skin crawl. I look back at my phone and holy shit! He’s right—the money Raif promised—the money I was supposed to get at the end of twelve months is all there.Minus my overdraft.
“Lovely woman, Celine. Lovely looking, too. Legs for days,” he adds as his gaze drops to my legs. “She was very pissed off to find out he’d left her nothing.”
“It’s not like he died,” I say with a snort as I tug at the hem of my skirt over my knees. He might be good looking, and his suit might be Armani, but the vibes he’s giving off are nothing short of repulsive. “It’s not like a breakup comes with a penalty,Mr. Tierney.”
He swipes up his glass, examining it. “You mean like a prenup?”
