Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Dylan
“Mr. Colt? Sir? Are you alive?”
If I’m hearing those words, I sure as hell can’t be dead.
I manage to crack one of my eyelids open far enough to see a stocky figure standing at the foot of my bed.
Sunlight is pouring into the room.
I never wake to sunlight.
“What?” I bark back, my hand falling to the space next to me. I slide it over the sheet but come up empty. “Where the fuck is she?”
“Who?”
Christ.
Gunner Runyan, my ever-present, annoying-as-hell assistant, is standing in my bedroom, and I’m naked.
I tug the twisted blanket around my waist.
“There’s a woman here.” I use sheer will to pry open both of my eyelids against the assault of light. I didn’t draw the blinds before I fell asleep.
I couldn’t think straight last night.
“No, sir.” I don’t have to look at him to know that he’s shaking his head. “You were the only one here when I arrived.”
“Bullshit,” I mutter under my breath.
“It’s not bullshit,” he says in an even tone. “I can go back and check every room if you want, but I guarantee that there’s no one in this apartment but you and me.”
She left. She goddamn left when I was sleeping.
Gunner clears his throat as if I need a reminder that he’s standing mere feet away from me.
“Why are you here?” I shield my eyes from the sunlight with my hand so I can shoot him a death stare.
He’s dressed as he always is in a three-piece black suit, a white button-down shirt, and a light blue tie. Gunner doesn’t give a shit if it’s one hundred degrees outside. His wardrobe never changes.
His blond hair is cut short and neat. His green eyes are always keen and focused.
He may annoy me, but he’s the best assistant I’ve ever had. His salary and perks prove that.
“I tried calling you.” He motions to the nightstand. “Your phone was dead when I arrived. I’m charging it now.”
I glance in the direction he’s pointing. I see dozens of condom wrappers with only one opened, my phone, and an alarm clock that I never bother to set.
I wake up every single fucking day at four thirty-five without fail.
Narrowing my eyes, I spot the time on the clock.
“It’s seven-thirty?” I dart into a sitting position. “Tell me it’s not seven-thirty, Gunner.”
His gaze drops to the gold watch on his wrist. “It’s seven-thirty two according to my time. I synchronize it every morning with my computer’s clock. It’s accurate within a quarter of a second.”
“Fuck.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed, not caring if Gunner gets an eyeful of my dick.
He immediately turns his back to me. “You’re due in court in less than ninety minutes. I also need to point out that you have a meeting in precisely thirteen minutes with Mrs. Jenkinson. She’s aware that you can’t give her more than twenty minutes of your time today.”
I’d ask why the fuck I have a meeting before court, but I’m the arrogant asshole who thought I could fit that in.
I haven’t reviewed my notes for the Alcester case.
I’m representing the wife. Trudy Alcester is looking to end her marriage to her cheating bastard of a husband, Troy Alcester.
He’s ranked in the top five on virtually every national list there is for the wealthy and elite.
They met and married before he struck gold in the technology market. With no prenup in existence and a string of mistresses set to testify, I’ll help Mrs. Alcester start a new, very comfortable life.
My only hurdles at this point are Mr. Alcester’s lawyer, Kurt Sufford, and the parade of paparazzi that will be waiting on the steps of the courthouse hoping for a picture of the jilted wife or one of the three mistresses I have lined up waiting to tell their stories.
“I’ll meet you back at the office?” Gunner asks, starting toward my bedroom door.
“Pick me up a coffee on your way there.” I rake both hands through my hair.
Gunner stops mid-step, his back still to me. “About the woman that was here, sir. I believe she may have forgotten something. I noticed a woman’s watch on the bar when I was emptying the ice bucket. Should I take it and have it returned to her?”
I have no goddamn idea who she is or why she bolted before I woke up.
We fell asleep wrapped around each other after we fucked. My intention to catch a few minutes of sleep before I screwed her again turned into a solid seven hours.
“I’ll take care of the watch,” I say curtly. “Get that coffee and get back to the office before Martha Jenkinson arrives.”
“I’m on that.”
I head to the shower as he disappears out of view.
I don’t fly blindly whether it’s in the bedroom or the courtroom.
I never fall asleep with a woman next to me. I’m a gentleman who sees the woman I fuck out the door and into a cab before he calls it a night.
I can’t believe I drifted off last night with my lover in my arms.
I have her watch in the pocket of my navy blue suit jacket and the memory of her body stored away.
I wish to fuck I would have gotten her name.
Anyone who thinks they can wander around Manhattan anonymously is mistaken. I have a private investigator on my payroll. The man is the second coming of Sherlock Holmes. I know, without a doubt, that he could find the mystery woman with as little as her first name.
I don’t even have that to offer him.
I’ve tried to convince myself that I want to know who she is so I can return the watch, but it reaches far beyond that.
I want her back in my bed.
Thinking about her voice, her body, and that sound she made when she came is clouding my common sense.
I’m sitting in the courtroom with Trudy Alcester by my side and a gallery filled with reporters.
I didn’t have time to crack open the envelope Gunner left for me last night. I scooped it into my palm before I left my apartment, but it’s sitting back on the desk in my office.
I know I’ve got the facts straight unless Kurt Sufford decided to pull something out of his hat before this hearing.
I haven’t looked over at the table where he’s sitting. I sense that Kurt and his jerk of a client both have smug grins on their faces.
I heard them arrive to a chorus of applause from the gallery. It has to be the employees of Alcester Industries that Troy pays to fill several seats in the courtroom.
He did it during the first hearing we had months ago when the judge ordered the case be sent to a mediator.
Anyone who needs to bring their own cheering section to their divorce proceedings deserves to be hung up from his balls.
“All rise,” the bailiff calls out just as the clock hits nine o’clock sharp.
I stand and bow my head as he runs through his chatter about court being in session and the honorable Judge Peggy Mycella presiding over these proceedings.
I’ve been in Peggy’s courtroom enough times to know that she won’t make eye contact until she’s settled behind the bench.
She reads out the docket number, combs a hand through her short blonde bob, and takes a sip of water before she asks if we’re ready to proceed.
“Judge?” Kurt adds a high note to his voice. “If it so pleases the court, I’d like a moment to speak before we get started.”
I roll my eyes and glance over at my client. The look on her face is pure frustration. She wants this over with as quickly as I do.
Mediation got us nowhere so we’re here, facing off with her soon-to-be ex-husband in front of a courtroom filled with reporters who are looking for any sordid tidbit they can run alongside a picture of the once happy couple.
“It would please me to get through this hearing within the hour.” Judge Mycella taps her fingernails on the wooden bench. “Say what you need to say.”
“I request a continuance, your honor.”
That finally turns my head to the left.
I narrow my eyes at the sight that awaits me.
What the actual fuck?
The woman standing between Kurt and his client may be looking straight ahead, but I know that face. I stared at that profile in the car on the way to my apartment less than twelve hours ago.
She’s not wearing the black dress she had on last night. Today she’s dressed in a conservative navy blue jacket and matching skirt. Under the jacket is a white blouse. Her long hair is tied into a bun at the base of her neck.
“What the hell?” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head because I’m sure as fuck dreaming this. I have to be.
“What’s wrong?” Trudy jabs an elbow into my side. “What is Troy’s lawyer trying to pull?”
“A continuance?” The judge removes her eyeglasses and pops a brow. “Why, Mr. Sufford?”
“The old ticker needs a tune-up.” Kurt pats the middle of his chest with his hand. “I’m having heart surgery the day after tomorrow.”
“I’m genuinely sorry to hear that.” The judge’s gaze shifts from Kurt to me.
“My co-counsel needs time to get up to speed on the case.” Kurt’s arm waves in front of the woman I fucked last night.
The judge leans forward, her eyes pinned to the woman I had pinned to my bed just a few hours ago. “I haven’t seen your co-counsel in my courtroom before. An introduction is in order, Mr. Sufford.”
I turn my full attention to the woman I took home with me last night.
Kurt clears his throat, but her hand on his shoulder stills him.
She looks to the judge before glancing in my direction. Her eyes lock with mine. “I’m Eden Conrad, your honor.”
“No fucking way,” I blurt out. “There’s no way in hell you’re Eden Conrad.”
I hear the distant thump of the judge’s gavel as she calls order in the court and warns me that she’ll hold me in contempt if I use that language again.
I stare at the woman I fucked last night. There’s no goddamn way she’s the same girl I knew in high school. That girl has haunted my thoughts constantly since I last saw her on the night I graduated.
With all hell breaking loose around me, I fall into my chair and rest my head in my hands.
Fuck my life.