Page 37 of Own

Cato

“Mr. Daire? Mr. Styles is ready for you now.” My attorney’s receptionist is a smart woman. Not once did she attempt to flirt with me in front of Hester. Ordinarily, she won’t stop trying to spread her legs for me.

Placing a guiding hand on Hester’s back, I have her walk in front of me as we enter Frances’ office. We’re left alone as the man hangs up the phone, and I shut the door.

“Cato, good to see you. Who is this?” In his prime, I’m sure this man’s smile was charming; now, he looks like the neighborhood grandpa. You’d never know what kind of shark he truly is.

“This is my soon-to-be wife, Hester Hawthorne.” I feel her shocked stare and wink down at her.

“Congratulations! What exciting news.” He sits back down and waves to the two chairs in front of his desk. “When is the big day? Is there anything I can assist with?” Lawyerspeak for a prenuptial agreement.

“No, Frances, nothing like that. I’d like to get to business, however. What have you got for me?”

Hester was hesitant to come with me this morning because she didn’t think a custody battle was any of her business. She didn’t want to make things worse.

“Well, as you know, Ms. Cruickshank is making some bold allegations and demands. I was able to speak with her representation last evening—real wanker if you ask me.” I roll my hand for him to continue; I don’t need the theatrics. “Anyways, they’re both waiting in the conference room down the hall if you’d like to hear what they’ve got to say?”

Glancing at Hester, I can see she’s become nervous again. “Hester.” She looks up at me. “Would you prefer to wait with Z?” She takes a deep breath, then shakes her head no, and pride blooms in my chest. She believes she’s weak because of her anxiety, her general fear of the world, but she’s one of the strongest people I know. “Let’s get this over with, then. We’re going on a trip after we stop to see a friend.” We got news this morning that Chelsea is expected to recover and can now have visitors.

After grabbing a thick folder from a drawer, Frances leads us out. “This way.” We walk along a long hallway, decorated with fake plants and expensive wall art. A dozen or so other lawyers work here as well, but whenever I come, they’re all mysteriously busy. Frances’ discernment for my privacy is one reason I like him so much.

He knocks on the conference room door, opens it, and immediately I hear McKenna’s voice. “Well, it’s about damn time. We’ve been waiting here for nearly an hour— Who the fuck is this bitch?”

Hester stops in front of me at the outburst.

Ignoring McKenna, I direct Hester to a chair, where she sits down elegantly, forcing back every nervous tick and appearing a hell of a lot more confident than usual.

Fuck is she hot like this.

Zaiden enters the room and stands near the door. The man reads me better than anybody I know.

“If you’ll have a seat, Ms. Cruickshank, we can begin.” Frances points at her vacated chair. Her lawyer stands and whispers in her ear before she complies. His hand on her wrist tells me she’s fucking him.

“Who is she, Cato?” Her jaw clenches, and I ignore her question, knowing it’s best to let my lawyer do his thing.

“Very good. Let’s begin.” Frances pulls the paperwork from his folder, which includes compromising images of McKenna and a variety of men and locations. Some of whom are wealthy; others are just shady. “Since you’d like to threaten Mr. Daire with unprovable allegations against his character and risk the children’s happiness and safety, I’ve put together a little package for both of you to review.”

He pushes one towards them and hands one to me. Hester gasps when she sees the woman who mothers my children snorting drugs on a city official’s coffee table, catching McKenna’s attention, and she growls, “Don’t be such a stuck-up bitch, you whore.”

The next image is of McKenna servicing several men. Hester takes hold of it and quietly places it in the center of the table. Sitting back, she reaches for my hand, offering me the comfort she believes I require.

Fuck, I love this woman.

Leaning forward, I don’t hesitate to steal a kiss. Soft, sweet, just a touch, but so fucking perfect.

“I think what I’ve shown is enough to persuade you to drop the matter, sign the contract, stating you’ll leave Mr. Daire and his personal and professional affairs alone, and once a month, you’ll receive supervised visits with the children.”

McKenna fumes at my attorney’s offer; it’s comical.

“Not a fucking chance,” she states, crossing her arms and glaring at Hester like she’s the one who ruined her life.

“McKenna, if you value anything about your life, you’ll sign the fucking papers,” I growl, the unspoken threat quite clear. Because if she doesn’t, I’ll ruin her without a second thought.

She leans forward, hatred in her eyes, and spews, “Not while that slut is warming your cock.”

Hester doesn’t even flinch; she remains calm, still not saying a word.

“The Daires are not going to be intimidated by your vulgarity, Ms. Cruickshank. I suggest you take a few calming breaths and think this through. The alternative to this agreement is far less favorable.”