CHAPTER THREE
ZANDER
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Let me get this straight. Courtney Blackmore, previously Courtney Jones from South Tucson, Arizona, a former Walmart employee and model, wants my credentials.
I don’t know whether to stab her in the eye with my Montblanc pen or laugh.
The pen, it’s the pen.
She holds my stare with courage she has no right having, and I feel for her soon-to-be ex-husband for a moment.
“I’m going to assume you read our website, researched me thoroughly, and have done your due diligence on my firm’s successes.
” I hold her stare for a solid moment, then flip open the folder.
“And that you can calculate the hourly rate—both mine as senior partner and founder and my two associates—and would rather we discuss your divorce than toot our own horns.”
Mrs. Blackmore seethes.
It’s carefully hidden behind her slow smile, the way she rearranges her hands on the table, then tucks her hair behind her ear.
I’ll admit, I’m impressed with the control she’s showing. I’m able to bring powerful men to their knees, and while I’m just getting started, someone with more experience than this woman would have at least flinched.
She does neither.
That’s hot.
I disregard my inner thoughts.
“If this is how you treat your friends, then I’m looking forward to watching you in the courtroom with my husband and his legal team,” Courtney says, still attempting to dominate the room.
And me.
A bad move.
It would be better for her if she gave up this act and let me do my job.
I lean back in my seat, tilt my head ever so slightly while Jason and Sean wait. They’ve seen this before. Some clients like to test boundaries when we first meet and always fail.
If they don’t like it, I won’t work with them.
It’s as simple as that.
An unpredictable client is a client who’s already lost. If they didn’t need us, they wouldn’t be here. But they do, and so I set the rules.
The end.
“Mrs. Blackmore, I am not your friend. Let’s be clear about our roles here. I am not required to sit here and list my credentials, nor are my colleagues. You came to us. If you wish us to represent you, then we can continue, otherwise, you may like to do more research on attorneys in the city.”
She swallows deeply, and for a microsecond my cock attempts to take control of my attention.
“I didn’t mean to imply that you were my friend.”
“Yet you did.”
Courtney slightly purses her lips. “I was simply trying to connect with you as a human, assuming we will be spending a bit of time together.”
Jesus, this isn’t summer camp.
In any case I don’t believe a word of what she just said. She’s trying to dominate the meeting, and I am not going to let her.
“We’re all here as professionals.” I push my folder out an inch and rest my hands on it. “Sean and Jason will be the people you have the most to do with. My time is extremely valuable; however, you can rest assured I will be the person facing opposing counsel to finalize your divorce.”
Her cheeks heat.
I can’t help but wonder what this woman looks like in the throes of passion. I’ve never seen hair the color of hers before. It’s golden, yet strawberry blonde, and the contrast of her green eyes makes her look like a mythical goddess.
I dislike the way I’m reacting to this woman.
A woman who clearly married a man for his wealth. They have nothing in common, have not built any business together, and no research showed loving vacations together, nor have they started a family.
She’s been involved in charity events and the usually brainless society contribution.
A loveless marriage, in other words.
I catch a glint in her eyes and almost flinch in response.
No fucking way!
Courtney from South Tucson can keep her claws off me and any thoughts of my billions.
She might have gorgeous curves, long lashes and a mouth built for sucking cock, but I am not going to be her next victim.
Jesus.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Courtney replies, and it takes a good five seconds for my brain to catch up.
Not my cock.
Her divorce.
Right.
Good.
Jesus Christ.
I nod, then open the file again. “Let’s start at the top.”
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AFTER GOING THROUGH a range of standard questions, I dive into the more intimate ones.
“How did you meet?”
“I moved to New York just over six years ago and met Adam while modeling.”
“Was Mr. Blackmore involved financially in the campaign you were modeling for?” I glance up and find sharp daggers in her eyes as she nods. If murder were legal, I’d put money on her clawing her way across the table between us and slamming her heel into my chest.
That’s right, sweetheart, I’m in charge and I’m not on the menu.
I bet she’s not used to men saying no to her.
Her eyes reluctantly leave mine, and as she reflects on the past, I’m surprised to see her face soften. “No. He was meeting a friend for a drink downstairs and ran into our producer whom I was with. The two knew one another and invited us to join them for a drink. Me and two other models.”
“Was he married at the time?” I ask, bobbing my pen back and forth, which seems to irritate her.
I’m not sad.
“No,” she frowns.
“Engaged?” I ask because I’m a sadist.
“No,” she frowns again, then recrosses her legs. “Adam and I fell in love. I thought we would be together forever, Mr. Sterling.”
Sure.
Until the money ran out.
“Where did you marry?”
“In the park. Near the zoo. It was intimate—”
“Your father gave you away?” I ask as her body stiffens.
Interesting.
“I’m not sure what my wedding day has to do with the divorce. Shouldn’t you be asking questions about today? About him. About what I’m seeking?”
We all know the answer to that, darling. You want everything.
I feel my associates’ eyes on me, as Courtney is somewhat right. I don’t usually ask for so many details, but I’m irritated by her and feel like ruffling her gold-seeking feathers.
It is my job to represent her, not believe her or like her.
“Yes or no?” I press, unperturbed.
“No,” Courtney sighs. “They...my parents...no, he did not give me away.”
For a moment, a hint of sadness in her expression gets under my skin, but I quickly brush it away. Compassion is a useless emotion in my field of work.
Mostly.
“I feel like I’m on trial.” Annoyed eyes snap to mine.
Good.
I’ve already had a phone call from Adam Blackmore’s lawyer—Warren Van-fucking-Guard—and things are going to get messy before this is over.
“Mrs. Blackmore.” I toss my pen onto the files in front of me and cross my arms as I lean back as I straighten my tie. “Your husband is a very rich man. He’s indicated you are to get nothing out of this divorce. I want to know why.”
Her face pales as her mouth parts.
“That’s impossible. I’ve done nothing to deserve that.”
They all say that.
“To help me do my job, and do it to the best of my ability, I need to know all the dirt you probably don’t want to share. All of it.”
She swallows.
There it is.
Courtney Blackmore has secrets. Unfortunately, my cock keeps interrupting my train of thought, especially when her wet lips part like that, and I wonder if she’s more of a sucker or takes cock all the way down her throat.
Fair question for a man like me.
But not when I’m at work.
I’m pissing myself off.
Clearing my throat to get my mind back in the game, I hold up two hands in question and wait for her to start talking.
“What grounds would he have for me not to be entitled to my rights?”
She’s referring to his ten billion.
“We understand there is no prenup, correct?” Sean asks.
“No, he never asked me to sign one.”
Idiot.
“There can be some adjustments if there is major overspending by one spouse, but it would need to be substantial,” Jason shares.
I study her reactions, wondering what she is keeping from us.
“Financials aside, the state law allows judges to alter asset distribution over non-economic misconduct. But only if the behavior is deemed to be ‘egregious,’” I say, my eyes never leaving her face.
“The threshold is incredibly high and would have to be so outrageous that it shocks the conscience of the court. The judge.”
Courtney blinks.
“What sort of misconduct?”
“Well, I would hope that we’d know if either of you were involved in such matters. So, unless you have something to share...” I lean forward and pick up my pen, letting that hang in the air.
She glances from face to face.
Swallows again.
My dick notices.
“No, I can’t think what an example would be. Nor do I have one that refers to our divorce.”
We shall see.
“Well then, let’s continue. You met over drinks, and then what? Fell in love and married soon after?”
The cynicism in my tone is so clear Jason shoots me a look.
“Three months,” Courtney glares at me. “I moved in with him a week after we met.”
Of course she did.