Once I prepare a Rusty Nail on ice, I grab my phone and head to the sofa that offers a stunning view of the city. I take a long sip of my drink and exhale contentedly. Kicking my feet on the coffee table, I dial Xander’s number.
"Hey, mate, it's Barrett,” I say when he picks up.
"Hey, mate. What's up?"
"Busy as hell. What’s new?” I chuckle. “And you?"
"The same. How’s the litigation business?"
"There is no shortage of wealthy people getting sued every single day. I master the art of arguing and I love to win. In other words, I really can't complain." We both laugh. "How's the music business?" I ask.
"Hotter than ever. I just came back from Los Angeles—”
“How many hearts did you— Wait, wait, wait. Let me rephrase that. How many pussies did you ruin?”
“Too many to be legal. American women fall for the Brit accent like crazy. I could be reading a box of cereal and they’d come screaming their heads off. I swear, those LA women were dropping their knickers and flashing their tits at, ‘Hello, my name is Xander’.”
“It always amazes me. It’s like luring a toddler with ice cream.”
“I couldn’t have said it better. In any case, I partied my head off. The last night, I didn’t even bother sleeping. There was no time for that,” Xander laughs.
“That much pussy?”
“Craig Taggart had an X-rated party at his mansion—”
“Oh, man.”
Craig Taggart is an American music exec who has hired my firm in the past. I've had the pleasure of hanging out with him. That bloke takes partying as seriously as he does building his empire.
“Exactly. You know that guy parties only one way.”
“Hard,” Xander and I say in unison.
We both laugh.
“I had a lovely time with twenty-year-old curvy twins with giant fake tits. I mean they were porn-star massive. Perfect to titty fuck.”
“I still can’t handle fake tits. I'm an au natural guy. Big or small, I want the real thing.” And Charlotte's breasts are absolutely perfect.
“They’re not my first choice, but you know what they say?”
“Enlighten me.”
“When in LA…”
“Of course. Now that you’re back, are you taking a respite? Seventy-two hours off?”
“Bite your tongue. I’m a self-confessed manwhore and I’m proud of the title,” he chuckles.
“No rest for the wicked.”
“None whatsoever. My best mate, Ethan, and I were having a little fun last night. I had barely landed, but I still had the energy to enjoy a curvy American.”
“You’re incorrigible, Xander.”
“Says the walking pussy magnet who was named the ‘Hottest Lawyer in the UK. Ever!’” by Cosmopolitan UK, Daily Mail’s Femail portal, Marie Claire UK and HELLO!”
“Don’t believe those gossip rags. Clearly it was a typo and it should’ve been, ‘Hottest Lawyer in the World. Ever!’”
Xander roars.
“Glad to hear your ego is as inflated as usual," Xander says once he's found his composure.
"I'd hate to disappoint you," I retort.
"Right. So, what about you? How many local girls have you been ruining, or did you simply unleash your badass-self when you were in Spain?”
“You win that competition hands down, mate.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been too preoccupied lately to think of pussy.” I say. Well, that was the case until noon today.
“Is your cock broken?” Xander asks.
“Bloody wanker.”
"It’s a fair question. What else would it be?" Xander jokes.
“There’ve been a lot of other things on my mind, that’s all.” I shrug even though I know he can’t see me.
“Shit. Sorry, mate. I thought it was over. Those monkeys are still on your back?”
“Yeah. No matter what I do, I can't seem to shake them off."
"It's been two bloody years."
"Yeah, Xander, it has. It infuriates me how they’ve managed to make me waste two very long years of my bloody life." I've had to sacrifice a lot. Too much.
"It's like they have nothing else to do."
"Exactly. Which is why they have all the time in the world to cause havoc."
Just thinking about those wankers makes me want to punch a hole in the wall. As much as I’d like to permanently wipe the smirks off the faces of the two clowns who have become thorns in my side, I will my heartrate to lower. In an effort to calm down, I ball my hand into a fist and stretch my fingers open a few times. Bloody retards.
"Is your best mate still in your corner?"
"Absolutely.”
“Good. He’s as ruthless as you are when it comes to dealing with wankers.” That he is.
“Still, Xander, every week those two idiots fabricate lies that result in a whirlwind of legal papers—and costs—that prevents me from moving forward."
"I didn't know it was possible to contest a will to this extent," Xander says.
"I'm a lawyer and I'm taken aback." I let out a long sigh. "If it's all right with you, I’d prefer not to dwell on that part of my life.”
"Sure. No problem." There’s a long silence between us. To steady my nerves, I down the rest of my drink. It's almost as if Xander is giving me time to compose myself because right after I drop my tumbler on the coffee table, he asks, “Were you calling about tomorrow? I hope you’re not canceling on me. I really need to talk to you about this artist. Especially after today."
"I'm really sorry, Xander, but I have to. I'm not in London. I'm in Greece."
"A last-minute sun vacation?" Xander asks.
"As if I’d do that to you. No, nothing that glamorous. I'm here digging out Jason Belvedere's ass."
"Whoa! You’re his lawyer?"
"As of two weeks ago. He’s now my problem. And from what I can already see, he’s going to be a bloody nightmare."
"He's a handful." That’s exactly what Charlotte said earlier today. Great. "A lot of people in the industry won't touch him with a ten-foot pole. I'm very surprised Groove Renegade decided to snatch him from his former record company. Timothy Raines and Landan Inglis are astute businessmen and I really don't understand the logic on this one."
"Before I took them on as clients, I hired a firm to do a little digging and from what I understand, Jason Belvedere is a real cash cow. Timothy and Landan will collect a lot of gray hair over their decision and it's true they paid a small fortune for the teenager, but their investment will pay off. I checked the news on my way back from the hotel an hour ago and a reporter was going on about how Jason’s record sales and downloads have tripled overnight.”
“Still, mate, Jason comes with enough baggage to fill a double-decker Airbus A380. Let's just hope you're right and the gamble pays off for Timothy and Landan. And let's hope no one sues their arses over Jason. Because let's face it, he's a reckless fool. I was a young superstar once, and I was never that stupid."
"If that were to happen, I'll declare war on the idiot," I say.
"One thing is certain, anyone who decides to go after Jason or Groove Renegade will be sourly sorry once you're done with them. What's your motto again?"
"If I leave you with your knickers on once I'm done with you, that’s already too much."
"That's hilarious."
“I aim to please."
We both laugh.
"If Groove Renegade lawyered up with the likes of you, I hope they did the same with their publicist. Do you know who they hired to manage this media circus?"
Things were going so well.
"I do."
"Anyone you've worked with before or did they go with a Greek firm?"
"It’s Charlotte."
"Wh-what?” Xander chokes. “As in Charlotte Wentworth? Your ex?"
"Yes," I say simply.
"Moving right along."
"I take offense to that, Xander."
>
"Barrett, we've known each other for seven years. Charlotte and you are like fire and ice. You’re the classic case of ‘can't live with them, can't live without them’.”
Xander Emerson was once in Jason Belvedere's shoes. He made the successful transition from teen popstar to sought-after music manager many years ago and he’s never looked back. Serendipity would have it that we were sitting in first class right next to each other on a trip to New York City. He was kicking off his second career and I was eager to take my father's firm in a whole new direction. We've been friends ever since.
"As I told Felicity, Charlotte and I can work together."
"Did Felicity believe your lie?" Xander chuckles.
"Whatever.”
"Let me get down to business before this conversation derails," Xander says.
"Sod off."
CHAPTER 10
Charlie
How am I supposed to focus on work and Jason drama’s when I can only visualize Barrett’s glorious cock?
“God was very good to him,” I say with a sigh.
All ten inches – standing proud!
“Enough!” I scold myself.
I dislike the fact that I’m thinking about his beautiful and perfect cock. I hate even more that I’m thinking of him. Of us.
Barrett… so determined, decisive and driven.
He’s the only man who makes an eloquent and loquacious woman like myself babble. His dirty-talking even renders me silent at times. He’s a master orator in the courtroom, but behind closed doors, Barrett truly shines.
He’s also absolutely stunningly gorgeous, the man who keeps slipping away from me in pursuit of bigger things. The relentless man who made a promise to his dying father that forced him to close the door to everything else. Even me.
Maybe I can’t completely forget him because he’s the first man to kiss me and the first man to take me. They do say, you never forget your first. Then again, when your first keeps popping in and out of your life, how the hell are you supposed to move on?
“Argh.” I let out under my breath. “This is maddening.”
After Barrett left me sitting there all hot and bothered, I put an end to my spa session. His presence was still lingering in that sauna and it’s best if I keep my mind occupied as much as possible, so I won't admit to myself how much I miss him. It was inconceivable that I go back to my room all sweaty, so I decided to take a quick shower. And, let's face it, I desperately needed that cold shower.
With limited options, I wrapped my naked body in one of the hotel's plush white robes. Armed with only the clothing I left London with tucked inside a clear plastic bag, the card to my hotel room and my mobile, I walk out of the spa with little care who sees me. This might not be the most appropriate attire, but right now, it's all I have.
Yes, I am steadfast in my determination to completely ignore the fact that my hotel room is packed with some of the finest designer clothing money can buy.
I refuse to let Barrett win.
I consider I’ve had enough exercise for the day, and I grab the lift down to the ninth floor.
“Back to work, lassie,” I mutter to myself as I step out of the lift.
I turn the corner towards my room when my phone rings. I answer immediately when I recognize my office’s number flash across my screen.
“Hey Terry.”
“Charlie, were you finally able to escape that precinct?” he chuckles.
"Can you believe that I was in that grotesque place for nearly ten hours? What a bloody nightmare! I couldn't get out of there fast enough.”
"Where are you now?" Terry asks.
"I'm on my way back to my room. I was at the hotel’s spa."
"La-di-da and joy to the world! Please enjoy your sun vacation while the rest of us are schlepping like slaves," he says with a touch of sarcasm.
"It was a business meeting," I defend as I scan my card through the slot.
"What kind of business meeting takes place in a bloody spa in a luxurious five-star hotel in paradise?"
"Are you calling me for a particular reason or are you simply checking up on my whereabouts?" I veer the conversation before revealing too much.
"Well, I guess you do deserve a little pampering. You didn't sleep a wink last night."
I roll my eyes into the phone. I know perfectly well he didn't sleep much last night either.
"As I said, it was a meeting," I said.
"Sure, and I’m next in line to the throne."
"Moving right along.”
"All right, let's get down to business. Are you back inside your room?"
"I am."
"Good, because this conversation needs to happen behind closed doors. Do they have a minibar, or do you need to run downstairs and grab a drink? Or two?"
"Is it going to be that kind of conversation?" I ask concerned.
"You left me with a very specific set of instructions. As you know, I've been cracking the whip on all of our junior publicists so we can dig up as much information as humanly possible."
Everything about the Executive Room is superb, but the full bar is a real perk. That said, there isn't enough booze in the world to make Jason's drama go away. Hiding my head in the sand won’t help at all.
"I prefer to keep my wits about me. I'll take this one sober," I say.
"Suit yourself."
"That bad?"
"Not yet," Terry says.
"Then why the dramatic antics?"
"It's coming. I can just feel it."
"Do you care to translate?" I ask.
“You're always the one who says that in our line of work, there are three types of people. One, those who are famous and whose stars are burning bright. Two, the up and comers looking for their big break. Three, those who are devoid of any talent, but willing to whore themselves for a chance at their fifteen minutes of fame."
"Yes," I say cautiously.
"You know what motivates the first two groups. The third group is the wildcard. At this point, after hours of research, we still don't know the identity of the woman who was caught with Jason. That worries me."
"Bollocks. You're still empty-handed?"
"We are."
Terry isn't one to get defeated easily. It must've taken him a lot to make this call. Usually he’s at it until he finds the slightest shred of hope.
"But how can that be?" I slap my palm against my forehead.
"I'm as baffled as you are, Charlie."
"Terry, this doesn't make any sense whatsoever. There has to be a reason why the police sent that person straight to jail instead of the precinct like they did with Jason."
So far, I've been standing still listening to Terry, but now I pace the room hoping each one of my steps calms me down. When you represent big celebrities, being in the dark can be a very risky game.
"I hate to bring this up, but maybe this woman is a prostitute. Maybe that's why everybody is so hush-hush. Maybe it's as much of the dirty profession down in Greece as it is here."
"Prostitution is legal in this country," I correct him.
"Really?"
"Yes. Trust me, I was as dumbfounded as you are.”
"Wow. That must be quite the boost to their tourism economy,” Terry chuckles. “Thailand is too far? Tired of The Red Light District? Sunny Greece is only a short jaunt away for all the fuckery your heart desires!”
And then it hits me.
With my extreme fatigue, I didn't put two and two together, but now it's clear as day.
"Wait a minute. What Athina overheard makes perfect sense now."
“The translator?”
“Yes.”
"What makes perfect sense?” Terry asks.
“Desperate for decent coffee, I begged Athina to find me some dark goodness. She obliged. When she announced there was nothing in the area and it would be a few kilometers before she found a coffee shop, I insisted the chauffeur drive her. Forty minutes later, she was back with lattes and bougatsas—Greek custard pie
s. Content, we both sat in silence sipping on our coffees while enjoying our bougatsas when all of a sudden, a bunch of policemen started getting rowdy—laughing, making lewd noises and obscene hand gestures. I thought they were making fun of the way I was dressed, but it turns out I was wrong. Athina said they made these weird comments about how American men loved coming to Greece for filthy whores. I didn’t clue in at the time, but now I’m wondering if they weren’t talking about Jason."
"But he’s Canadian,” Terry quips.
“Yeah, but a lot of people don’t realize that.”
"Good point."
“Right now, it's our only lifeline.” I pause. “Did you hire someone who speaks Greek to comb the Internet?"
"I did. She was the first person I hired on the team."
"Did she come up with anything?"
“Zilch.” Terry’s answer surprises me.
"That's ridiculous. Something that big would have local celebrity bloggers buzzing."
"My sentiments exactly, which is why I wanted to check with you before I made the cut."
"Absolutely. Fire her ass and hire someone who can find us answers."
"Consider it done. What about Barrister Weightman? Is he already in Greece yet? What did he find out?"
Things were going so well.
“Carson Weightman is no longer representing Groove Renegade."
"They don’t have a lawyer?"
"That's not what I said. They’re simply no longer working with their former lawyer. They have a new one."
"Have you met him or her?"
"I have." I leave it at that.
"So? Were they able to fill in the blanks?" Terry presses.
"I did speak to the new lawyer. He's extremely competent. We chatted, but never got around to talking about Jason. There were a few other things we had to iron out first." That's not a lie.
"What other things? You just met the bloke?"
"Well…"
"Well what?"
"We haven't just met. We’ve known each other for a while."
"Who’s representing Jason, Charlie?" Terry asks carefully.
It would be a waste of everyone's time for me to keep this charade going.
"Barrett!” I even add a little inflection in my voice to show enthusiasm.
"As in Barrister Barrett Ascott?”
You're All I Think About_Second Chance Romance Page 7
