30. CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY
KINSLEY
“ I ’m coming inside,” Ethan says when we pull into the parking lot of Turner Law.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He’s too close to it all, and the last thing I want is for this to backfire on Jill.
“My sister’s not happy. I want her to be happy. I should be the one to do it,” he grits out.
“Okay.” I clear my throat and turn to face him. “Pretend I’m Peter. What would you say to me?”
Frowning, he searches my face. “Umm…”
With a hand held out between us, I say, “Welcome to Turner Law. My name is Peter. How can I help you?”
He lets out a small laugh. “He knows who I am.”
I huff an exasperated breath. He’s proving my point, but he’s not quite getting it yet. “Okay,” I try again. This time I deepen my voice and slug him in the shoulder. “Hey, man. What are you doing here? Want a beer?”
He laughs louder and shakes his head, but he plays along. “Hey, Peter. You know, after yesterday, Jill thought it would be a good idea if the two of you took a break for a while—”
“Err. Negative.” I cut him off. “If you so much as give him a glimmer of hope, he’ll hang on to the impossible. Jill will move on while poor Peter is counting the days until he can call her again. You don’t want that, do you? You have to rip off the bandage, just like you did with Will.”
“But—”
“I won’t be a bitch about it.” I grasp his forearm and squeeze. “You just have to trust me.”
He sighs and lowers his head. “Fine. But you aren’t going in alone.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t argue as I push open my door.
“Hello,” I say, greeting the young receptionist with a fake smile pressed to my face. “My name is Kinsley Grant. I have a ten-o’clock appointment with Peter Turner.”
“You have an appointment?” Ethan asks, his voice a rough whisper.
“Oh, hi. Welcome,” the blonde says with a snap of her gum. She’s young and is wearing a skimpy top beneath a white blazer. “Mr. Turner is running just a few minutes behind, but I’ll show you to his office.” When she notices Ethan standing behind me, her face lights up. Shamelessly, she gives him a long once-over, pressing her teeth into her lower lip.
When I clear my throat, she realizes her mistake, but she only offers me an unapologetic smile.
“Sorry. I didn’t know you’d have company. This way,” she mummers quietly.
I glance over my shoulder at Ethan. Yeah, I see immediately why Blondie was eye-fucking him. Ethan is a catch. His thick brown hair is a sexy mess today. Longer strands crisscross over his head, with some pieces curling at the ends. The scruff at his jaw is a bit more rugged and untamed than yesterday, and his skin is glowing. I have to turn away to keep from drooling over him myself.
Blondie shows us into a large office with two white high-back chairs facing an oversized mahogany desk. I sit in one, while Ethan remains standing. After several minutes tick by, Ethan says, “Is it just me, or does something feel off?”
I shrug. “Are you referring to Blondie out there having the hots for you? No, it’s not just you.”
He arches a brow and hits me with a smirk, making it clear that I’m the only person he wants to have the hots for him. “I’ve only been here once, when Jill and Peter moved in. I don’t remember things looking so…”
“Feminine?” I ask. I’ve never dealt with a lawyer, so maybe I’m wrong, but I wouldn’t think law offices typically scream champagne and white.
“Yeah,” he says. “It’s odd, right?”
I shrug again. Maybe Jill decorated. Though Jill has never been all that girlie.
“I’m going to find the restroom.” He leans in and brushes his lips against mine.
When the door closes behind him, I release a shaky breath. Holy hell, I could get used to that.
About a minute goes by before the door creaks open again. “Good morning, you must be Kinsley.” A man with a raspy voice materializes from behind the chair. He’s a few inches taller than me and dressed in a three-piece navy-blue suit. His yellow tie hangs loose around his neck, like he just came from a stressful meeting. That, or he’s just gotten laid and hasn’t had time to put himself together. Combine that with his disheveled caramel brown hair and the grin that grows exponentially when his eyes land on me in much the same way Blondie’s did when she spotted Ethan, and I’m beginning to bet on the latter.
“My name is Peter Turner. I heard you were here with questions about an inheritance,” he says, his tone a little too chipper.
“Yes,” I hedge, instantly wary of his enthusiasm. Not that I’m actually here about an inheritance. It was the only thing I could think of in order to solidify an appointment with a real estate lawyer.
“And this inheritance.” He rubs his hands together. “It involves property, I presume?”
“Yes?” I say, though the statement comes out more like a question.
“Good. Let me just close these curtains. This way we’ll have more privacy.” He makes his way behind the desk and tugs on the long white curtains that match the décor of the room.
A warning bell goes off in my ears, and my stomach drops. What the hell is going on?
“Peter,” I say, getting to my feet. It’s time to rip off the bandage. “I’m not really here about an inheritance. I’m here because I need—”
“Oh no. In order for full consideration, you can’t say the words. We only have three rules here. One—” He moves toward me and holds up one finger. “An inheritance is split fifty-fifty. Two—” He displays another finger. “Cleo will book each of your appointments after the inheritance is deposited. And three —” He unzips his pants and shoves them down, his bald cock standing at attention. “You practice by sucking my dick first.”
My mouth falls and all the air whooshes from my lungs.
Just then, the door flies open.
“Shit,” Peter says, scrambling to pull up his pants.
“What the fuck?” Ethan snarls.
“Ethan?” he cries, all the color draining from his face.
A long string of obscenities falls from Ethan’s mouth. Then he’s on Peter, punching him in the ribs and then the face. Before I know it, Peter is on the ground, face down, with his pants around his ankles and Ethan’s knee pressed into his back.
“Call the station,” he says, tossing his phone to me. “It’s the first one in my contact list.”
“No. Please,” Peter begs. “You can’t. It’s not what it looks like.”
With a grunt, Ethan presses his knee more forcefully into Peter’s back. “So you didn’t just tell my girlfriend to suck your dick?”
“No. I mean, I did. But I didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”
“That doesn’t make this any better,” Ethan grumbles.
I stare, dumbfounded, at the scene in front of me. One minute, I’m meeting Peter. The next, he’s introducing me to his peter. A bark of hysterical laughter escapes me. My eyes drift to Peter’s bare ass, and then I laugh even louder. I’m doubling over when Ethan calls out to me, bringing me back down from what I can only assume is a state of shock.
“Kinz. Call the station.”
I wipe the tears from my face and nod. After I press the station’s contact, I place the call on speaker.
“Hope Island Police. How can I help you?”
“Sheila. It’s Tate. I need you to send a few officers to Turner Law. I’m pretty sure I just stumbled into a commercial prostitution operation.”
“A what ? Isn’t that your sister’s place?”
Ethan’s eyes grow wide. “Fuck. What the fuck is going on here?” He shakes Peter.
“Nothing.” His breathing grows ragged. “She doesn’t know about any of this. I swear. It’s Rose, the new attorney. I can explain everything. Please, just don’t tell Jill. She’ll leave me.”
“Peter,” I say, crouching beside him. “If you would have given me a chance to speak, you would have known that I’m actually here to tell you that Jill is breaking up with you. She’s packing up this morning.” I flip my wrist to check my watch. “She’s probably already moved out.”
“What about the wedding?” he sobs into the hardwood floor.
“No fiancée, no wedding,” I say, my tone a bit harsher than I intend.
“Fuck,” he moans as he drops his forehead to the ground.
“Detective Beckett and the chief are on their way,” Sheila says.
Fifteen minutes later, Ethan is giving a statement to the detective while Peter and his assistant are handcuffed and escorted out of the building. “We’ll have to question Jill to see what she knows since she’s still associated with the firm,” she says.
Ethan nods, his lips pressed into a firm line.
I’m still in a state of shock when I make my way to the receptionist’s desk and catch sight of what looks like a stack of papers with an aerial view of Maggie’s land, house and all. In big bold letters on the top is the word rezoned . As I leaf through the stack, it’s obvious each document is stamped the same way.
What the hell am I looking at? With a peek over my shoulder to make sure I’m alone, I snatch the paper on top and stuff it into my pocket.
The moment we’re both settled in Ethan’s truck, I pull it back out and say, “We need to talk to Jill.”
“It’s a rezoning document,” Jill says. “For commercial use. It looks like the city just approved it.” She hands the paper back to me from the other side of her mom’s kitchen table. “If the property doesn’t sell, then it remains residential. But it can’t be sold that way. Not with the new rezoning.”
“Does this mean they could tear it down and build a warehouse?” I ask, voice wobbly. Dammit. An image of Jay and his cronies flits through my mind.
“That’s exactly what it means. I wouldn’t be surprised if somebody scouted it out for that exact purpose,” she says.
“Ugh,” I huff. “How can they do that without telling anybody?”
“Legally, it’s public information. The person overseeing Maggie’s estate likely knew about it.” She pushes the chair out from the table and stands. “Now, if you two will excuse me, I need to hire myself a new lawyer. Somebody not associated with Peter.” She grimaces. “Or Rose.”