Faking Amends (BadLuckBrides series #2)

8

Ivan

How dare she show up at my fucking house, unannounced, at eight o' clock at night? How fucking dare she come to my home with her long, toned legs on display, just begging my tongue to drag up the length of her smooth skin until I hit her sweet center?

God know's I've only been toying with the thought of it since the second time I saw her. Ever since I realized how much of a knockout she is.

How dare she keep herself so covered up all the time. Especially in front of me.

And most of all, how dare she be there when I fucking need her. Showing up like she knew I would. She's slowly proving to have a habit of that.

I don't know what I'd have done if I didn't have anyone around to watch Rose while I met with my client. I'd taken her to work before, left her with Quinn, my PA for an hour or two, but this was different.

I couldn't show any sign of incompetence with this guy, I couldn't lack professionalism. He was paying me big, and that's why this was such a huge deal. I had to give this guy the best possible outcome, or else I'd fuck over not only his career, but my own.

I'd given Janessa the go ahead to let him in until I'd gotten to the office, but couldn't help but wonder if that wasn't my best idea. Especially when I'd heard his tantrum in full effect from behind the door.

"What's the fucking problem?"

He stopped pacing and looked at me, eyes bulging from his skull. The vein in his forehead pressing up against his skin like it's looking for a way out.

"This girl is going to ruin my fucking life, that's the problem Hartman!"

I let go of a breath, his pacing returning as I roll out my chair and sit. The guy's a narcissistic nutcase—even more than I am, and that's saying a lot.

He calls me day in, day out. Leaves voicemails and texts on my work line that I'm never looking forward to having to dig into when I start work hours, but I can always expect it.

"I'm on top of it. She's got nothing of substance on you, Vince. We've already talked about it."

"Nothing of substance?" He stops still, tilting his head at me like a deranged psychopath. I'm just waiting on his eye to twitch. "Nothing of substance? How's this for no substance." He slides his phone across the glass top of my desk and I glance at it, then back up at him.

"What is this?"

"A video. A video of me losing my shit, that's what." He pulls his palm down his unusually scruffy beard. "Watch it, go ahead. Hit play."

"I'm not going to watch it."

"We're fucked. That right there, once that gets out it's over. It's all over with. Everything I worked for, gone with the wind all because of some broad who can't handle that I just found someone better than her."

More like she can't handle being left high and dry for one of the women he'd been cheating on her with after ten years of abuse, manipulation, and just having to put up with him in general. Not to mention the fact that she has a ton of dirt on him that he's only praying won't come to the surface.

This woman wants to drain him of all he's got if she can, ruin his business and his name with some wild allegations, and she somehow got a great lawyer to represent her, but not as great as me.

If I got this guy out of the hot water he was in, I'd have an opportunity to merge with one of the most prestigious law firms to date. Once I've managed to get the Vincent Calhoun out of his scandal, I've won.