Page 111 of Unbalanced

“You like pretending that’s me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think of me often?”

I change positions, lying on my back so I can see him better. Alden Mitchell smiles, but it’s not his courtroom smile. It’s not the charming one he gives waitresses, clients, and everyone else who believes he’s exactly what he presents to the world. This one belongs to me. Dark, possessive, and completely unbalanced.

Good boy.

“Yes, I do,” I admit, and he smirks. Shit.

“Then enjoy your victory tonight, Emily.”

My stomach tightens.

“Why?”

“Because Friday...” His eyes drag slowly over me before locking on mine. “I’m collecting what you owe me.”

The call ends.

I stare at the blank screen.

“Oh no, you didn’t just turn the tables,” I say, but I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt despite not getting to come.

Three days. Seventy-two fucking hours of hell.

Maybe teasing him wasn’t my best idea after all, but God, that was fun.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

ALDEN

I slide the settlement paperwork across the desk to Mrs. Peters.

“He agreed to all our demands. As soon as they saw the evidence I have, they caved. I even got you the yacht just to be petty,” I say, smiling because Mr. Peters loves that boat more than anything else in the world.

Mrs. Peters no longer cries. It’s obvious she ran out of tears over his cheating long ago, but she still looks numbly at the paperwork before finally lifting her eyes to mine.

“So, it’s over? He has to get out of the house, can’t come near me, or come after me for anything anymore. No court?”

“It’s over. You don’t have to worry about court. He is way too scared of what else I may find and that he’ll lose everything.” I lean back in my chair. “Although, I’m happy to throw this offer in his face if that’s what you want.”

Mrs. Peters shakes her head and grabs the pen, scribbling her name across the bottom.

“I just want this nightmare to be over so I can get on with my life.” She stands, and I join her, buttoning my jacket. “Thank you, Mr. Mitchell. You’re worth every penny.”

I round the desk and hold out my hand. She gives it a hard shake, sighs as if the weight of the world is finally off her shoulders, and walks out of my office with her head held high. That look…that is why I chose this profession.

My phone rings, and I look to see Grant calling. Finally.

“Grant, what was it?”

He clears his throat.

“Nothing.”

My grip tightens on the phone.