What an utter cluster fuck this was.
Noise from beyond her bedroom caught their attention. “Well, hello . . . did someone lose their pants out here?”
Lori cracked a smile and buried her head in his shoulder. “Danny.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Reed placed both hands on the wall in his office and cringed. Lori made a decent living working the legal end of Alliance alone. Million-dollar mergers from which she made a percentage. No need to go to court. No need to file extra papers. Write up a prenuptial . . . execute a prenuptial.
What a scam.
Only none of it was illegal that he could see. There might be a question of morality, and certainly in the case of Trina Petrov, someone, somewhere was going to question the legality of a fake marriage resulting in her ending up with half a billion dollars. And yes, Paul Wentworth and his fake wife, Shannon, wouldn’t be very credible if the facts leaked to the public.
He had the information his client needed. Not the proof, but enough to deliver, collect a check, and walk away.
Reed knew, without a second look, he wasn’t going to deliver this information to Senator Knight. She’d find out the public facts. Lori Cumberland worked with the rich and famous, and she was the lawyer to write up and execute the prenuptial. Was it legal for a lawyer to represent both parties? He jotted down a note for himself to research. He was relatively sure it was, but wondered if there were any loopholes.
A low hum on his desk told him the devices he’d planted in Lori’s home were picking up voices.
He moved to turn it off. He already had the information he needed.
“I’m not leaving,” he heard Danny say.
Reed hesitated over the button.
“You’re sticking around because you want to protect me. Noble, and I appreciate it. But it isn’t needed.”
“Don’t go, Dan. C’mon,” Reed prodded the air as if his chant would somehow go through space and hit Lori’s brother in the cerebellum.
“You just fired Cooper.”
“I didn’t fire him!” Lori’s voice rose.
“I don’t see him following you around anymore.”
“Danny . . . stop. I’m fine. You’re cramping my style.”
“Ha. Is this about making a crack about Reed’s pants on the living room floor?”
“Oh, Lord, do you have to mention that again?”
Danny laughed. “Seriously, sis. I think it’s great you have a guy in the mix. If you have company, maybe a tie on the door. We can work this out.”
Reed found himself smiling. Are we in college?
“I stopped putting ties on doors when I was in law school.”
“Yeah, but it worked,” Reed muttered to himself.
“It’s a great system,” Danny said.
“You’ve been here a month. I love you, but I don’t want anything to come between us.”
There was some noise. Danny’s voice sounded farther away.
Reed turned up the mic.
“And I love you too much to leave now. I’ll risk pissing you off until I know you’re safe.”
“Danny!”
“Lori! This isn’t negotiable, oh Mighty Lawyer. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened and I wasn’t here.”
Reed tapped a nervous finger on his desk. “I always knew I liked you, kid.”
Lori’s voice traveled. “You’re annoying.”
“You love me anyway,” Danny called after her.
Once a month, usually at Sam’s Malibu estate, she and Lori met and discussed current and prospective clients of Alliance.
At that exact moment, they had ten marriages in various stages. Two of which were walking the edge of voiding their contracts because the relationships had become physical. And so long as a child wasn’t a result, Alliance and the contracts signed were in effect if either party wanted out on the agreed upon date. They’d built in nearly every clause, including death. Although Trina’s situation wasn’t covered. Something Sam and Lori discussed over a bottle of really good Sangiovese on her back porch overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
“You know I’m not happy about you telling Cooper to piss off.”
Lori rolled her eyes. “I’m American, I don’t tell anyone to piss off.”
Occasionally, an English saying would leak through Sam’s words.
“You know what I mean.”
“Petrov is smoke and mirrors. He’s spinning around in Munich and Prague, trying to drum up money. He isn’t watching me.”
“He’s dangerous.”
“I know this. We’ve gone over this. Trina is the one who needs security, not me. I have cameras and intercoms all over my house. My office is secure. I’m good.” Lori quickly changed the subject. “Trina deposited money in the account.”
“What?”
“The amount that Fedor was due to pay when they divorced.”
“She didn’t have to do that,” Sam said.
Lori shrugged. “Technically, we did our job.”
“That’s not how I feel.”
“Me either. It feels like blood money.”
“Neither one of us pulled any triggers.”
“I still think we should have known Fedor wasn’t stable.” How many times had Lori kicked herself about that fact?
Sam topped off their glasses of wine. “Let’s just hold on to it for now, pay for her security . . . whatever she needs. If we get through the year without any more from her father-in-law, we’ll donate the rest to suicide awareness or something like that.”
“I like that idea.”
“How is it working out with Avery in your building?”
“I never see her. She’s been in Texas more than in LA. She and Trina really hit it off.”
“I’m thankful for that. I missed the drama at Wentworth’s fundraiser. Gabi said it wasn’t comfortable.”
“We need to do an intervention with Shannon . . . or find her a date.” Lori spent the next thirty minutes and the rest of the bottle of wine discussing the possibility of creating an actual elite dating service.
“You’re suggesting we screen potential suitors as closely as we screen temporary spouses?”
“Anything less and we’re nothing more than an online dating app. And when marriages end, like with Shannon, we offer unlimited dating service. Make sure they have a man on their arm for events like she had last month.”
“Fake dating?”
“Or the real thing. We’d have more clients. We’d need more staff . . . none of which would know the truth about Alliance.”
“I like this idea, Lori.”
“I do, too. Maybe it’s because I’m getting my sexy on with Reed, but I hate to think of anyone without someone to play with.”
Sam sat back, her unruly red hair blowing in her face with the wind off the ocean. “How are things with Reed?”
“They’re really good. Almost too good.”
“Why do you say that?”
“When was the last time too good lasted for me?”
“When was the last time anything lasted for you? I was starting to think of you as the one-night stand lawyer.”
“It’s expected when you’re a divorce attorney.”
“Says you. I’m glad it’s working out.”
“Me too.”
Sam’s housekeeper came outside. “Is Ms. Cumberland staying for dinner?”
Lori shook her head. “No. I’ve gotta get going.”
“You sure?” Sam asked.
“Hot date.”
Lori stood and gathered the papers off the table.
“I’m going to have a small dinner party next week. Can I count on you bringing Reed?”
Lori calculated how many people in her personal life had met Reed and decided the risk was worth it. Besides, he’d already met Sam.
“Let me know the date and time, and I’ll ask him.”
She swung her purse over her shoulder. “Oh, hey . . . did you or Gabi get ahold of Susan Wilson?”
Sam hesitated.
“The woman who approached me at Wentworth’s fundraiser.”
“Ah, yeah . . . Gabi is working on that.”
“Perfect.” She kissed Sam’s cheek. “We’ll talk later.”
Lori needed a night out of the city. She’d hinted that she wanted to see where Reed lived. That wasn’t going to happen.
Not yet.
If ever.
The pit he was sinking in just kept getting deeper. There wasn’t a way to walk away.
Not that he wanted to.
Every time he looked in the mirror, he cringed. His mother wouldn’t be proud, his sisters would probably disown him.
The hardest part was going to be the fall. The moment Lori realized why he was in her life, and the look she’d have on her face . . .
So here he was, putting off the inevitable. Every day was a search to find out how to dig himself out of the hole he’d fallen in.
Hell, he’d kick his own ass if he could.
It was times like this he wished he was Catholic so he could walk into a confessional and scrub all the sin away.
He ran a hand through his hair, grabbed his duffel bag, and stormed out the door. The drive to her condo normally focused him.
Not today.
He texted her from the turnaround. I’m here.