Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
They wandered over to the door. Darcy unlocked it and held it open, her attention straying back to the flowers poking out of the wastebasket.
“At least your guy only wants sex,” Darcy said, looking envious.
“Brody is not my guy,” she responded, hoping if she said the words out loud she might convince her traitorous body of it. “Are we still on for dinner tomorrow?”
“As long as it’s Mexican. I’m feeling spicy. Enjoy the deposition,” Darcy called as Hayden slid out the door.
“Enjoy the flowers,” Hayden called back.
She turned in time to see her best friend flipping her the bird.
“Thank you, Hayden,” announced Diana Krueger, Presley’s divorce attorney. “We’re finished here.”
Hayden smoothed out the front of her black skirt and rose to her feet. Next to her, her father stood as well. On the other side of the large oval conference table of the Krueger and Bates deposition room, Sheila Houston and her lawyer were huddled together, whispering to each other.
Hayden couldn’t help but stare at her stepmother, still as startled by Sheila’s appearance as she’d been when the woman first strode into the law office. The last time Hayden had come to town, Sheila looked as if she’d stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine. Long blond hair brushed to a shine, features flawless and perfectly made up, expensive clothes hugging her tall, slender body.
This time Sheila looked…haggard. Much older than her twenty-eight years and far more miserable than Hayden had expected her to be. Her hair hung limply over her shoulders, her normally dazzling blue eyes were distressed and she’d lost at least fifteen pounds, which made her willowy shape look far too fragile.
Though she hated feeling even an ounce of sympathy for the woman who was making her father’s life hell, Hayden had to wonder if Sheila was taking this divorce process a lot harder than Presley had let on. Either that, or she was devastated by the thought of losing that yacht she’d forced Presley to buy.
“Thanks for doing this, sweetheart,” her father said quietly as they exited the conference room. “It means so much that you’re going to bat for your old man.”
For the third time in the past hour, Hayden noticed her dad’s slightly glazed, bloodshot eyes and wondered if he’d had something to drink before coming here. His breath smelled like toothpaste and cigars, but she got a wary feeling when she looked at him.
No, she was being silly. He was probably just tired.
“I’m happy to help,” she answered with a reassuring smile.
He touched her arm. “Do you need a ride back to the suite?”
“No, I’ve got my rental.”
“All right.” He nodded. “I forgot to mention it last time I saw you, but the annual Gallagher Club fundraiser is next Sunday. Eight o’clock.”
Which you will attend, was the unspoken rest of that sentence.
Awesome. She hated those kinds of events, especially the ones held at the prestigious gentlemen’s club her dad was a member of. It was always a bunch of creepy older men hitting on her while their wives pretended not to notice.
Her father must have noticed her reluctance because he frowned slightly. “I’d like you to be there, Hayden. A lot of my friends want to see you. When you were here over the holidays you declined all their invitations.”
Because I wanted to see you, she almost blurted. But she held her tongue. She knew her father liked showing her off to his wealthy friends and boasting about her academic credentials—something he didn’t seem to care about when they were alone.
She swallowed the slight sting of bitterness. Considering they’d just spent an hour with the woman determined to bleed him dry, Hayden figured she ought to cut her dad some slack.
“I’ll be there,” she promised.
“Good.”
After they said their goodbyes, she watched her father hurry out of the elegant lobby onto the street as if he were being chased by a killer. Not a stretch, seeing as the law firm was called Krueger and Bates. Hayden wondered if she was the only one who’d made the connection.
“Hayden, wait.”
She stopped at the massive glass entrance doors, suppressing an inward groan at the sound of her stepmother’s voice.
Hayden turned slowly.
“I just…” Sheila looked surprisingly nervous as she plowed ahead. “I wanted to tell you there are no hard feelings. I know you’re trying to protect your father.”
Hayden’s eyebrows said hello to her hairline. No hard feelings? Sheila was in the process of sucking the money out of Presley’s bank accounts like a greedy leech and she wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings?
Hayden could only stare at the woman, dumbfounded.
Sheila hurried on. “I know you’ve never liked me, and I don’t blame you. It’s always hard to watch a parent remarry, and I’m sure it doesn’t help that I’m only two years older than you.” She offered a timid smile.