Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Considering her father might have killed my mom, I’m not sure how to feel about it.
CALLUM
“I wouldn’t mind going through the motions, if I didn’t know it’s a waste of time,” I grumble on my way through the large glass doors of the lawyer's office. It's no surprise to find so many associates working at this hour of the night, chugging lattes and energy drinks at nearly nine o’clock. Romero and I wait at the front desk while he texts Bob to let him know we’re here. The receptionist has gone home, I assume.
“Do you think she's here yet?” Romero mutters, now changed from the dark clothes he wore only an hour ago into a suit that’s slightly more in line with a visit of this nature. Nobody would ever know he’s fresh off a home invasion.
Another reason to hate my ex with all of me: I want to be home, watching the feed from Bianca's room, not arriving at my lawyer's office for a late-night meeting I’m sure will get us absolutely nowhere.
“Of course she isn't,” I mutter in reply, lifting a hand when I see Bob striding our way past a row of offices. “It was her great idea to have the meeting this late, to begin with. Now she's going to make sure we wait even longer for her to show up. This is her MO. If the ball isn’t in her court, then she steals it.”
At times like this, it's damn near impossible to remember what I ever saw in her. Aside from her looks and her body, what was it? What made me stick around after we fucked and before Tatum came along? Why the fuck did I marry her? What made me believe there could be something real?
It was a turn-on. I had never met a woman like her before. She wasn’t satisfied with simply taking my money and leeching off my success. She wanted that success for herself, for both of us. She drove me to be bigger and better than I was, the poor kid whose father still lived and worked in a tiny go-nowhere town.
In some ways, I have her to thank for what I've accomplished, because she encouraged me. Her cutthroat attitude helped guide me to where I am today. I know now there was no love behind that encouragement, no genuine desire for me to be better since she knew I was capable of big things. She wanted it for herself, was all, and spotted a willing tool already on his way up in the ranks.
We were supposed to build an empire together. For us. A life, a family, a legacy.
Unfortunately for her, she couldn't leave well enough alone.
Just like then, tonight is yet another act of manipulation. Bob winces when he reaches us, shaking our hands. “Sorry we couldn’t talk her down to an earlier meeting time,” he offers. Amazing to think of a time when I didn’t know this man. Amazing to remember believing—innocent, naïve as I was—that our relationship would be a short one.
“I’ve learned to expect the worst from her,” I assure him. “I know you did your best.”
He looks visibly relieved at my acceptance. I guess working for a known arms dealer with a violent reputation could give a guy an ulcer or two. “Can I offer either of you something to drink?” he asks, leading us back to the conference room. “Amanda and her team are also running a few minutes late.” Romero and I exchange a knowing look behind him.
“Did any of her team give you an idea of what she feels is so important that we have to get together at nine o'clock on a Wednesday night?” Romero asks, his eyes sweeping the conference room. An act of habit, making sure everything's safe. I doubt there are many safer places we could be, yet that doesn't stop him from surveying the room, then sweeping his gaze over the buildings on the other side of the windows lining one wall. Bob frowns when Romero begins lowering the shades, although he offers no argument.
“No, only that she felt it was imperative to meet.” He offers me a pained, sympathetic look. “Of course, the hope is she's come around.”
Yeah. And I still hope Santa Claus will come down the chimney, but it will never happen.
It's five past nine when a team of men in suits come marching toward the glass-walled room, and in the center of the cluster is none other than the venomous snake I made the mistake of marrying at a young age, too stupid to know better. She's sleek, polished, like she just stepped out of a salon. Her blond hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and her stiletto heels click smartly against the floor when she strides into the room. She’s wearing a red business suit, so all the attention is drawn to her.