Chapter Thirty-One Ellie
Isupposed the office was just like every other law firm in New York.
Professional. Impersonal. Tidy, but still opulent. Boring, yet intimidating.
I rubbed my sweaty hands on my slacks and hugged my pashmina closer to me as I entered the elevator with Andres and the bodyguard we brought with us.
Eduardo, I believed, was his name. The same guy who came with me to the restaurant when I met the girls out for dinner. He ignored me, and I was happy to return the favor. I was too nervous to make small talk.
Andres placed his hand against the small of my back, and I leaned into him, grateful for his strength and support.
I knew my husband was a man with a wealth of resources at his fingertips, but I didn’t know how much he knew about Gary.
My ex was a slimy sonofabitch, but he was smart when he was determined.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ramirez? They are waiting for you inside,” an older woman with short, gray hair greeted us when we exited the elevator.
She pointed to a conference room on the other side of the hall, and I faltered a step. My feet felt glued to the floor.
“It’s okay,” Andres murmured, and I relaxed instantly.
Of course, Gary and his new wife were already inside. The new Mrs. Peters—her first name I didn’t know, or if I did know it at one point, I couldn’t remember it, and really, I didn’t care to—sat with her back ramrod straight.
She was wearing a pristine Chanel suit in a fall appropriate pink with gold accents and her blonde hair twisted back in a neat chignon.
She didn’t look at me.
But when I looked closer, I saw the telltale signs of faint bruising on her cheek. Emotion filled me, twisting my gut. She’d done an excellent job of covering up the greens and blues of her injuries with cosmetics.
But I knew what she was hiding. I used to hide, too. I remembered it all. The disbelief, the fear, the guilt. I swallowed, pushing those awful emotions back down.
My heart went out to her, and to everyone like her.
Everyone like me.
Well, the me I used to be. I wished for a better world. Where women who had suffered at the hands of someone bigger, stronger, and meaner than them knew their true worth. Found the help they needed. And the support to get to a better place.
I was lucky. I knew that, and I was so fucking grateful.
No man should ever raise his hands to a woman.
It was a physical contest whose outcome was already predetermined by biological design. It wasn’t fair or right.
Sure, there were women who could kick a man’s ass. I didn’t doubt that. And I wasn’t arguing that point.
But I couldn’t think of a single instance where a wife or girlfriend deserved to be hit.
The same went for the reverse.
I’d heard of men who’d suffered abuse at the hands of their spouses and girlfriends.
Either way, it didn’t matter.
Violence towards your mate was not okay.
If you didn’t want to be with someone, just leave. You didn’t have to cheat, lie, manipulate, or hit.
You never had to hit.
Those were just lies.
Vile means used by small, weak, scared people to try to make themselves feel better about their pathetic existences.
Anyone who said you deserved to be cheated on, lied to, hit, or abused in any way, shape, or form were the real liars. Those were just lame ass excuses to be miserable human beings, spreading pain and despair because of their own feelings of worthlessness.
I knew that now. I understood that better than most.
Suddenly, I wanted to cross the room.
I wanted to go to Gary’s new wife and tell her she didn’t have to stay with him.
She wouldn’t look at me, though. Hell, she wasn’t looking anywhere but down.
My throat tightened, and suddenly, I didn’t give two shits about Gary, except to hate him a little more.
I just wanted to make sure this woman, his wife, knew she didn’t deserve the way he treated her.
No one deserved that.
“Late as usual,” Gary hissed, and I froze with affronted anger.
“Are we?” Andres said, the hand on my back subtly pulled on my waistband, stopping me in my tracks.
“By seven minutes,” Gary replied.
“My apologies, Gar. But you know women,” my husband said, offering a jovial smile to my ex.
I did a double take.
What the actual fuck?
Why was my husband grinning like a madman and offering Gary his hand like they were fucking buddies?
“Indeed,” Gary said, his expression cautious.
But he couldn’t hide the flash of disgust in his cold eyes.
“Greetings Mr. Ramirez, I’m Mr. Orion, representing Mr. and Mrs. Peters,” a small thin man with a wire-thin mustache introduced himself.
He looked harmless, but I knew Gary, and that meant this lawyer was a fucking shark.
“Yes, yes, Orion, let’s just get down to it, shall we?” Mr. O’Doyle, my attorney, interrupted.
“Yes, well, Mrs. Maxwell-Peters, it seems with your recent address change my client has not been able to contact his son. Also, there is a question of your rights in taking him?—”
“Ramirez,” Andres growled the word.
“Pardon?” Mr. Orion asked.
“Her name is Ellie Ramirez,” Andres corrected the lawyer, the smile on his face looking a little more feral than jovial.
I didn’t dare look at him closely.
I was caught between confusion and rage. I didn’t understand what Andres was playing at.
One minute, he was acting like he actually liked Gary. But the next minute, I swore I could feel masculine energy rolling off him in waves.
“Uh, yes. Mrs. Ramirez, my apologies. As I was saying, your recent address change is not on file and your kidnapping of my client’s son?—”
“Kidnapping? That’s a joke, right?” I barked, but Andres squeezed my thigh beneath the table, silencing me.
“Her recent address change has not been imparted to your client because of my high profile job. My residence is not public knowledge as it would create security risks, I am sure you understand,” Andres said, and all hints of friendliness vanished.
“Mr. O’Doyle, perhaps you should explain to your client that he should refrain from speaking, especially since he can also be charged with the kidnapping of a minor child,” Mr. Orion spat.
Gary’s expression turned smug, and my stomach twisted again.
I felt sick.
Kidnapping?
Could he really threaten us with that?
“Excuse me,” Andres said, and there it was.
I could almost see it happening.
The shift.
The change.
No more sweet, attentive husband. This Andres was the badass businessman so many people spoke about when we first met.
“There seems to be a misunderstanding.”
“Mr. Ramirez, I insist you refrain from speaking. Mr. O’Doyle Please tell your client—” Mr. Orion tried again, the worm of a man grinning like he was going to get something over on Andres.
I almost felt bad for him.
Almost.
Whatever Andres was up to, I was sure this wasn’t going to end well. I only hoped I was on the winning side, but I didn’t understand what he was doing.
He kept me in the dark. And I hated it.
“First, I am not Mr. O’Doyle’s client. And I am here for my wife and my son,” Andres said, emphasis on the last bit.
There was a pause as all the attention in the room shifted to my husband.
“Um, I’m confused. We are here to discuss the issue of visitation concerning the minor child, Samuel Maxwell-Peters,” Mr. Orion said, reading Sammy’s name off a sheet of paper.
It was probably the first time he had ever read my son’s name, and just knowing that increased my fury.
“No, I believe you are mistaken. Our business concerns Maxwell Mining, doesn’t it, Gary?” Andres asked, his stormy eyes darker than I’d ever seen them.
“What do you have to do with the company?” Gary scoffed.
“Didn’t you know? I just signed the deal this afternoon. I am the sole owner of Maxwell Mining,” Andres said, silencing everyone in the room.
My heart was pounding.
Sole owner?
Had Andres somehow bullied some judge into allowing a sale to go through despite Gary’s attempts to stop them?
Had he bought Maxwell Mining to help me or, and oh my God, I was going to puke, was that all he’d been after since the beginning?
Prince of acquisitions.
That was his nickname at Volkov Industries.
But was I something he’d used to acquire his next big win?
My heart squeezed and immeasurable sadness filled me, like a rising tide I had no control over. I wanted to cry. But I didn’t dare.
My eyes searched my husband’s face, but he wasn’t looking at me.
Handsome as sin, but colder than I’d ever seen him, Andres waved his hand in the air.
“Let’s talk without the lawyers and the women, yes?” Andres said, and Gary, the snake that he was, nodded.
“Go outside,” Gary said, not even looking at his wife.
She flinched and pushed her chair back, the loud screech cut through the awkward silence, giving me time to address my husband.
The lawyers left one by one until only I remained.
“Andres,” I hissed, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.
What was he doing?
I thought we were there to protect Sammy.
I thought he cared.
I thought he was good.
I-I loved him.
Could I have been so wrong?
My head thudded as warring emotions raged battle inside me.
Hurt and anger.
Confusion and despair.
I didn’t want to be dismissed. But I was clearly not wanted in that room. Andres spared me a single glance, and I wanted to tell him off. I wanted to slap his face.
But I stopped, frozen in his blue-gray gaze. I saw something there that quelled my rising hysteria.
Something that calmed the storm raging inside of me.
Emotion. Heat. Angst. Fury. And something else.
It was almost like a plea.
Like Andres was begging me to understand.
Whatever was brewing behind his suddenly cold eyes, I hoped I read him right. That silent entreaty moved me like nothing else could.
Trust me.