Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Camille
Today was going to be terrible.
Her year had ended pretty well, and if she counted those early hours of the morning with Freddy, then it had started out pretty great, but everything had been pretty much downhill from there.
Yesterday’s visit with her mom had been fine too, actually. It was work that had frustrated her. Going through the Alexanders’ prenup with a fine-tooth comb had given her a headache. Whoever had given the Alexanders the advice to sign it had been a total hack. More than one section was unclear.
Granted, things could go either way, but she wasn’t sure it would go Mrs. Alexander’s way, even though she was likely the more deserving party.
You’re not supposed to be thinking that way. Mr. Alexander is your client, not her. You’re supposed to be saving him as much money as possible… so that he can pay it all to Donaldson and some of it will come to you.
Right.
Sometimes, she felt like this job was sucking the soul right out of her body.
At least she had something to look forward to for the end of the day.
Her reward to herself for getting through this afternoon was calling Freddy.
During her lunch hour, she’d also sent in the application for membership to Stronghold and Marquis.
In some small way, she was claiming some of herself back.
“Ugh, this is going to be such a waste of time.” Nicholas Alexander III, all six feet of him, was slouched in one of the conference room chairs.
At first glance, he was handsome enough.
In his late forties, he still kept himself in shape.
He had dark brown eyes and matching dark brown hair sprinkled with just a touch of salt.
At second glance, it was impossible to miss the petulant set of his mouth and the arrogant unhappiness emanating from him like a bad smell.
Well, it was impossible for her to miss. She knew Rachel, the receptionist who had escorted him into the conference room, hadn’t noticed his flaws. She had been all smiles and giggles as Mr. Alexander smirked and flirted with her.
Thankfully, he didn’t try that with Camille.
“Do you want me to call the meeting off?” she asked.
Mrs. Alexander was due any minute, along with her counsel from Addison, O’Shane, and Smith, and Alfred Johan.
AOS, as they were known, had a reputation for representing women like Mrs. Alexander, who had ended up married to rich assholes who didn’t want to pay their alimony.
They made a lot of money making those rich assholes pay out the ass.
Personally, Camille would like to see nothing more. Professionally, it was her job to thwart their intentions. According to him, she was supposed to keep him from having to pay anything at all, which was why they were going to court.
She was pretty sure he’d hoped Mrs. Alexander wouldn’t be able to find representation or that she’d decide it wasn’t worth going to court and would just quietly go on her way.
Camille had tried to explain to him that wasn’t going to happen as soon as she knew who Mrs. Alexander’s representation was, but Mr. Alexander had dug in his heels, and now here they were.
Which meant trying her best, knowing if she succeeded, she was going to screw some poor woman out of money she was rightfully owed, or her own client, and therefore, her firm, were going to be unhappy with her.
This morning, she’d figured out the reason the partners had passed Mr. Alexander off to her.
They knew the chances of winning were fifty-fifty, and they didn’t want him unhappy with any of them.
Worried it would ruin their golf game or something.
“No,” Mr. Alexander said after a long minute, straightening in his seat and tugging his suit jacket down so he didn’t look so rumpled. “No, I’m not going to let that bitch get her hands on any of my money. Not when she’s trying to fucking leave me.”
Camille really hoped Mrs. Alexander actually was a bitch. Then she wouldn’t feel so bad about having to represent this asshole. She didn’t bother to point out the reason his wife would get his money was because of the prenup he’d signed.
There was a knock on the door before she could respond. It opened and Rachel smiled as she walked in. The knock had just been to give them a quick heads up that the other side had arrived.
“Right this way. Ms. Sinclair and Mr. Alexander are waiting for you.”
To Rachel’s credit, she didn’t give Mr. Alexander one of her simpering smiles. She just stepped out of the way to let the people behind her walk in.
Halfway to getting to her feet, while Mr. Alexander rudely remained seated beside her, Camille froze when she saw who was walking through the door.
Freddy.
Blue eyes widened, and his gait only faltered for a moment before he moved to the side, holding out his hand for the woman behind him to take it like the gentleman he was.
With his blond hair perfectly styled, he was wearing a salmon pink suit that fit him perfectly.
Next to her, Mr. Alexander made a derogatory noise even before his wife walked into the room, and she realized it was at the sight of Freddy in pink.
Mr. Alexander was an asshole bigot among other things, and when he saw another man in pink, his toxic masculinity couldn’t take it.
Which was likely deliberate on Freddy’s part.
Finally standing straight, Camille’s gaze dropped to the woman who was clutching Freddy’s hand while doing her best to pretend she wasn’t.
Petite with auburn hair, wide hazel eyes, and stick thin other than her breasts, she looked like she was about to have a panic attack or flee the room.
When Mr. Alexander made another derogatory noise, she flinched.
No, she was definitely not the snobbish bitch Camille had been hoping for, unless she was also an incredible actress. She looked exactly like what Camille had hoped she wasn’t—a woman who had been beaten down by years of marriage to a self-involved, extremely entitled, abusive dickhead.
I am on the wrong side of the table.
The worst part was looking across and seeing Freddy on the right side, wondering what he thought of her.
They were both just doing their jobs, but… The way he looked at her with his carefully neutral expression… it made her chest ache. She wanted to scream that she wasn’t this person.
But she couldn’t, because she was.
“Mrs. Alexander, Mr. Johan.” She managed not to choke on the words, gathering up the little pieces of herself and going into her carefully rehearsed speech. “Thank you for coming to meet us today.”
Freddy opened his mouth, then closed it and gave her a short nod before pulling out a chair for Mrs. Alexander.
The woman sat down, placing her purse on her lap and clutching it tightly now that she no longer had Freddy’s hand for support.
Her gaze came to rest on the middle of the table while beside Camille, Mr. Alexander glared across it.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Rachel asked. “Tea, coffee, water?”
“A water for each of us would be great, thank you,” Freddy said after a moment, giving her a smile. Rachel beamed back at him. Mrs. Alexander kept staring at the center of the table. Mr. Alexander glared.
It was excruciatingly awkward as Rachel retrieved two water bottles from the mini fridge in complete silence.
As Rachel left, Camille cleared her throat and lifted her chin, readying herself for the opening sally, but it was already too late.
As soon as Mrs. Alexander reached for her water bottle, her husband struck.
“Really, Brittany? He’s the best you can do?” Mr. Alexander sneered, looking between Mrs. Alexander and Freddy. “I thought you must have spread your legs to get a lawyer, but he clearly—”
Camille slammed her hand down on the table with a loud crack that made Mrs. Alexander jump, and even Mr. Alexander pulled back, surprise clear in his expression. Turning to him, she glared. The man shriveled.
“Mr. Alexander, you will keep quiet until you are spoken to. You will not insult your wife. You will not insult her counsel. This is a mediation.” She spoke in a low voice, but her words were crisp and clear, and Mrs. Alexander and Freddy would both be able to easily hear her since the room was otherwise dead silent, no matter how quietly she talked.
“If you do not want to ruin the mediation, you will be civil.”
Despite his initial reaction, Mr. Alexander’s face began to turn red as she spoke. She glared harder.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Freddy said from across the table.
His voice was nothing like it had been the other night.
This Freddy spoke in a clipped, stern tone that wouldn’t have been out of place from a Dominant.
“It’s too late. I told Mrs. Alexander that the moment Mr. Alexander turned hostile, we would no longer be negotiating. ”
“But—” Camille started to say, turning back to him as panic began to rise. Her instincts were screaming at her that they were about to get hit with something awful.
A file folder slapped down in the center of the table as Freddy got back to his feet. Glossy photos spilled out over the polished wooden surface.
Oh, fuck me sideways.
She didn’t need to look closely at the tangle of limbs and naked flesh to know what she was seeing.
“Mrs. Alexander wanted to have a civil discussion. Since Mr. Alexander is incapable, we’ll get straight to the point.
Here is the proof of his infidelity over the past year.
If this goes to court, so will these photos.
” Freddy looked at Mr. Alexander from across the table.
“The prenup agreement is clear. You cheated, you are the cause of the divorce, you have to pay. Now, if you’ll excuse us. ”
With his hand on the back of Mrs. Alexander’s arm, Freddy got her up and moving. They were already halfway out the door when Mr. Alexander came back to himself.
“Now, wait just a minute!” He jumped to his feet, but Freddy ignored him.
“Sit down, Mr. Alexander!” The last thing Camille needed was for the hot-headed idiot to chase after Freddy and his wife in the middle of a law firm. As much as he’d deserved it, he wasn’t the type to take any kind of insult well.
And if he tried to physically hurt Freddy or Mrs. Alexander, Camille would take him down herself, then she’d probably be out of a job. She was pretty sure she was going to be blamed for this, even though it was all her client’s fault. Closing her eyes for a moment, Camille counted to ten.
When she opened them, Mr. Alexander was still staring at the door angrily, his fists and jaw clenched, but at least he hadn’t gone running after them.
“I take it these are all legitimate?” she asked coolly, scooping up the photos and stuffing them back into the file folder. Mr. Alexander gave himself a shake, as though he was just coming back to himself, and glared up at her.
“What the hell was that? You work for me! You’re supposed to be helping me keep my money from that bitch! You don’t—”
“Mr. Alexander.” Camille snapped out the words.
She was starting to not care what the partners of her firm thought.
The lowering thought was that she cared more now because she cared about what Freddy thought of her, but she knew that was only partly true.
It was more like the last straw on a long, long pile-up of bullshit that had been poured onto her back.
She didn’t have it in her to placate this asshole, who was making her job a lot harder than it had to be.
“I am supposed to be your lawyer, your representation, which includes keeping you from making massive mistakes like the one you were about to.”
Getting to his feet, apparently feeling at a disadvantage with her standing over him, Mr. Alexander glared at her.
“What massive mistakes?” he asked sarcastically as if he didn’t believe she actually had anything she could point to. His complete lack of self-awareness was no surprise, but it didn’t help the situation at all.
“I already told you, but I will repeat myself. Mr. Johan’s firm is highly respected.
They have a reputation for taking on the cases of women whose husbands owe them alimony, and oftentimes, going to court means you will end up paying more than you might have otherwise.
He will dig into every last bit of your finances.
He will find every account you have and every resource available to you, and that is what the percentage will be based on.
” She glared back at him. “That is what he would do without provocation. If you cannot keep a civil tongue in your head about your wife, there will be no more meetings with them where you are present because all you’ll do is hurt your case. ”
Huffing, Mr. Alexander looked like a puffed-up banty hen with all his feathers aquiver.
Camille’s grandmother would have laughed her ass off seeing him like this.
She wished she could find it more amusing, but she already knew what was going to happen next, even though she was one hundred percent in the right.
“Well. Well… I’m going to have a talk with Jared about this and about your attitude!”
Yup, saw that coming.
Shaking her head, she watched as he stormed out of the room and down the hall.
At least she had the pictures because she had a feeling, she was going to need evidence for the partners.
Though, since they didn’t want to deal with Mr. Alexander, there was a pretty decent chance she would still be the one working with him, no matter what he said to them.
But they’d expect her to placate him.
Sitting down heavily, she stared at the carefully crafted notes she’d spent the past twenty-four hours working on.
I would have been better off spending the day in bed with Freddy.
She was pretty sure she wouldn’t be getting the chance again any time soon. The way he’d looked at her, as if she was guarding the villain, whereas he’d been a knight in salmon pink armor for Mrs. Alexander. He’d looked damn good doing it, too.
Taking a deep breath, Camille gathered up her things and got back to her feet. There was only one thing to do right now—keep on moving.