Mismatch: A Winning Ace Novel (Book 4) (A Winning Ace Novel)

by Tracie Delaney

  With a deep sigh, she got up and picked the first folder off the top of the enormous pile that was mocking her from the dining room table. She sat back down, opened it, and began to read. Occasionally, she made notes in the margin. The remainder of the time, she tapped her pen against her teeth, a habit her partner at work hated—which made her do it more often. She and Darren loved to wind each other up.

  After her much-needed bath, Jayne slipped on her nightgown and traipsed to bed. She’d just snuggled beneath the covers when her phone rang. She cursed as she realised she’d left it in the next room. She tossed back the covers and went to fetch it. By the time she reached the living room, the phone had stopped ringing. It immediately started up again, and a prick of anxiety gnawed at her insides. What if something was wrong with Ganny? She flipped the phone over and stared at the screen.

  Kyle.

  Well, he could sod off. It was late. She was tired and cranky and not up to whatever games her soon-to-be ex-husband wanted to play. She turned and was ready to head back to bed when her phone beeped with an incoming text. Just ignore it. Kyle loved sending her nasty texts, especially when she wouldn’t bend to his will.

  But curiosity got the better of her. She swiped at the screen, and the message appeared: I know you’re there. Answer your bloody phone, Jayne.

  Jayne glanced around. She wouldn’t put anything past Kyle, including spying on her. He’d assured her he didn’t have a key and had given her the only one when she’d kicked him out over nine months ago, but she didn’t trust him. Someone who would screw his wife’s best friend and barely break stride when caught was not a man to be trusted.

  The fact he’d shagged Flick was bad enough. That he’d done it over the antique table that Jayne’s beloved grandfather had left her in his will was unforgivable. He might as well have pissed on her grandfather’s grave. And as for her best friend… Jayne’s heart squeezed painfully. Despite the time that had passed, she still missed Flick like crazy. They’d been friends for years, and yet Flick had betrayed Jayne in the worst possible way. It seemed loyalty was about as rare as the bloody dodo.

  Jayne went to switch off her phone but then hesitated. She had to be contactable at all times in case Ganny needed her. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to her grandmother and she hadn’t been reachable.

  Another text pinged, and Jayne sighed as she opened and read it: Fine, play your stupid games. I’ll call by tomorrow on my way to work. Be in, Jayne.

  She bristled with anger. Who the hell did he think he was? She’d never taken well to orders, even when she was married and still in the besotted stage. Now that they were on the cusp of divorce, he could piss off if he thought for one minute she’d bend to his will.

  Kyle was a man of habit. He’d turn up precisely at seven the next morning, expecting to see her.

  She’d be out the door by six thirty.

  The following morning, Jayne left home half an hour before Kyle was due to arrive, but instead of heading straight to work, she ducked into the café opposite her apartment block and grabbed a table by the window. She ordered a coffee and a granola yoghurt pot and settled in for her morning’s entertainment.

  Since Kyle’s betrayal, something had changed inside her. The job had hardened her over the years, and early on, she’d learned to protect her heart by building a wall around it, but being cheated on had turned the bricks into steel. Impenetrable. Kyle’s deception had also made her belligerent, especially when it came to her dealings with him. Whatever Kyle demanded, she dug in her heels. He wanted a quickie divorce. She put every obstacle in his way. He wanted to sell the apartment and split the proceeds. She hired the best property-dispute lawyer and tied him in enough red tape to encircle the earth. Twice. She cleared out their joint account and cancelled their credit cards, which resulted in a very embarrassing incident for Kyle at a Michelin-starred restaurant in Mayfair.

  And yet she was far from completely blameless in the breakdown of her marriage—not that she would ever admit as much to Kyle.

  She’d be pressured to compromise in the end. The legal system would always come down on the side of fair and equitable, and although Kyle hadn’t put as much financially into their marriage as she had, his contribution would still be recognised—which pissed her off. He earned a fifth of what she did, and yet, with a sympathetic judge, he could get half of everything. Her assets, her savings, her pension. Not if she had anything to do with it, though. Kyle had labelled her as a woman scorned. She might as well live up to stereotypes. It would be such a shame to disappoint him.

  As reliable as Big Ben, Kyle appeared outside her apartment block at two minutes before seven, meaning he’d be at her door by seven on the dot. She’d once thought his extreme consistency and habit of being a stickler for punctuality were endearing. These days, she found it odd at best, annoying at worst. It was as if his adultery had taken the blinkers off of her and she could see the real man beneath the veneer. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

  She sipped her coffee, her lips twitching as she predicted he’d be banging on her door right about then, furious she wasn’t answering. She counted in her head, and at 7:03 he appeared, red faced, a deep scowl marring features she’d once found handsome.

  He planted his hands on his hips and looked up and down the street. Jayne smiled to herself. His fury was evident in his posture and expression. Too bad, dickhead. You messed with the wrong girl.

  He removed his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and stabbed his fingers at the screen. Jayne waited. Sure enough, a few seconds later, her phone pinged. She reached into her bag.

  The message read, “You’ll pay for this, Jayne.”

  Oh yeah? How?

  Kyle stomped up the road towards the tube station. He rounded the corner and disappeared from view.

  Jayne finished her coffee, left a tip on the table, and set off for work. That little entertaining diversion had set her up to have a great day.

  She arrived at work with a smile on her face, the complete opposite of the previous day’s demeanour when her scowl had scored her forehead so deeply that Darren had suggested Botox. Only the once, mind. She’d perfected the death stare for Kyle and found it worked on most men.

  Donna, her PA, had her coffee waiting, along with a printed copy of her calendar for the day. Jayne gave her a grateful smile, said a bright good morning, and closed the door to her office. She scanned the piece of paper. Busy, busy, busy. She was glad to have little time to think. Having her brain constantly spin around her skull, flashing the occasional unwanted image, was a state of mind to be avoided at all costs. She’d discovered maxing out on work was a good strategy for curbing the undesirable thoughts, hence her current sixteen-hour day schedule.

  She sank into her leather chair and perched her reading glasses on the end of her nose. Varifocals gave her a headache, so the only way to switch from close-up to distance was to assume this ridiculous pose that made her look like her old headmistress.

  Jayne began prepping for her first client of the day, but as she made notes of what she needed to discuss with him before their court date a week on Tuesday, a commotion outside her office disturbed her. Jayne was halfway across her office to find out what on earth was going on when the door burst open, and Kyle marched in, face like thunder, with Donna hovering at his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, Jayne,” she said. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  Jayne waved her hand in the air. “It’s fine.”

  Donna discreetly closed the door while Jayne remained standing, hands planted low on her hips.

  “What do you want, Kyle?” she said in a bored tone.

  “Where the hell were you this morning, Jayne? I told you I was coming by.”

  “So you did.” She yawned. “Unfortunately for you, I stopped listening to anything you had to say the minute I found you balls-deep inside my best friend.”

  Kyle’s face reddened, but it wasn’t from embarrassment because the blotched
skin was accompanied by a thick vein that pulsed in his forehead—a tell of rage Jayne had always found unattractive, even when she’d been infatuated with him.

  “Old news, Jayne. Done.” He slashed his hand across his throat for added effect. “I know you’re still in love with me, but let it go, for both our sakes.”

  Jayne almost choked. This guy lived in an alternate reality, one inhabited within his own crazed, narcissistic mind. She formed her face into indifference, her shoulders low and loose. “In love? Sure, sure. I sit at home every night craving your scintillating company and paint-by-numbers approach to sex.”

  His face furrowed in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Let’s see. Three kisses, one with tongue, followed by a twist of my nipples like you’re trying to tune the radio in, a couple of fingers stuffed inside me before I’m treated to being pumped by your half-flaccid cock until you reach orgasm. And after seven years of me guiding you to my clit, you still couldn’t find it. Maybe I should have drawn you a map.” She shrugged. “Although even then…”

  She let her words trail off, her face still fixed with the impassive stare she’d mastered after several years working as a lawyer, even though her heart galloped inside her chest. Being so hostile towards the man she’d once loved and had spent the best years of her life with didn’t come easily, but she had to put herself first. Her self-esteem had taken a real battering, and this combative approach was the way she’d chosen to deal with it—rightly or wrongly.

  The vein on Kyle’s forehead was so pronounced it could almost qualify for citizenship as an independent being. Jayne held back a grin that threatened to bleed across her face. Kyle was useless at comebacks.

  “You’re a fucking cold bitch.”

  Yep, and there it was. The stereotypical retort. Jayne allowed a minute curve to her lips. “I know,” she said in a condescending tone. “Now, if you don’t mind. I’m busy.”

  She made her way over to her desk and sat down. She picked up her pen and began to make notes on the paperwork in front of her while Kyle’s heavy breathing assaulted her ears. After a few seconds of silence, she lifted her chin.

  “Anything else?” She hadn’t let him share the reason for stopping by her apartment or coming by her office, and her question effectively dismissed him.

  Kyle took a menacing step forward, but his faux alpha-male stance didn’t worry Jayne. Kyle wasn’t the type to hit a woman, and if he tried to, it’d be the last thing he did. Krav Maga worked wonders for getting out aggression—and for learning how to drop a grown man to his knees with one kick or punch.

  “Sign the fucking divorce papers, Jayne. I want this over with.”

  She leaned back in her chair, her pen tapping against her teeth. “I will. As soon as you give up insisting on half. That’s my apartment, bought with money that I earned. My pension. My savings. Your demands are unreasonable, and I won’t give in to them.”

  Kyle expelled an irritated breath. “I deserve half. All those months and years waiting every night for you to get home and be a wife. Instead you chose your career. Even when you were at home, you either had your bloody phone glued to your ear or your head buried in a stack of papers.”

  Guilt swarmed within her, but she couldn’t let it bubble over. Her part in the breakdown of their marriage was something she’d have to examine, but only when she was ready, when the scars on her heart were healed. She called forth her inner bitch to help her respond, even as she inwardly cringed at the cruel words that came out.

  “Aww, poor little Kyle. Needs constant attention. Needs his ego stroked at least three times per day.” She laughed without mirth. “You chose the wrong woman for that.”

  “Why do you think I screwed Flick?” he said, his tone bitter and hurt. “At least she knows how to treat a man.”

  Jayne held back a wince. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing one of his darts had hit the board. “Depends on your definition of man. Flick always did have low self-esteem. No wonder she was flattered by you.”

  Kyle blanched. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”

  Jayne laughed, a proper laugh this time. “Oh, Kyle. The feeling is mutual. Now, run along. I have work to do. You know my terms. Don’t bother me again until you’ve agreed to them.”

  She buried her head in her work, and a few seconds later, the door slammed. She looked up. The office was empty. She blew out a heavy breath, her cheeks puffing up. Sparring sessions with Kyle brought out a side of her she didn’t like. She wasn’t a bitch. Driven, yes. Thoughtless at times, definitely. But she cared about people—her grandmother, friends, colleagues, and clients. Yet she had to fight him. What would it do to her reputation as a top divorce lawyer if her own husband took her to the cleaners?

  She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes.

  The door to her office creaked, and Donna poked her head inside. “You okay?”

  Jayne nodded. “I can handle Kyle.”

  “I’m sorry. He just shoved past me. I couldn’t stop him.”

  “No need to apologise.” She held up her half-drunk coffee, which had gone cold because of Kyle’s interruption. “Would you mind grabbing me another one before my next client arrives?”

  Donna smiled warmly. “Coming right up.”

  Jayne worked right through until nine in the evening. She stood and stretched out her back, her muscles protesting at being stuck in the same position for hours on end. She flicked off the light on her desk, gathered her things together, and locked the door to her office. The hallway was in darkness. Normal, sane people had long ago left for the evening, but as she didn’t have any reason to go home, she preferred to work.

  Jayne pressed the button for the lift and waited for it to arrive. As she stepped through the open doors, her phone rang. She stepped back into the hallway because the lift would block her signal. She glanced at her phone. Darren.

  “Hey,” she said warmly. “Everything okay?”

  “Sorry to call so late,” Darren said. “Are you home yet?”

  Jayne laughed. “This is me, remember?”

  Darren made a frustrated noise. “You worry me, Jayne.”

  She smiled to herself. Darren was such a good friend, but he was wasting his time if he thought his disapproval of her working hours would make a difference. “I’m sure you weren’t calling to tell me that. What’s up?”

  “I need a favour. I wouldn’t normally ask, but I can’t get hold of Peter,” he said, referring to their senior partner. “A friend of a friend has got himself in a bit of bother and needs a lawyer to sit with him during police questioning. I’d go, but the baby isn’t well.”

  “Nothing too serious, I hope?” Jayne said, feeling a tinge of concern for Darren’s young baby.

  “Just a bit of colic, but I don’t want to leave Alicia to cope alone.”

  “I understand. Criminal law isn’t really my bag though, Darren.”

  “I know, but you’re not exactly unskilled in that area. It was your second major after all. Look, it’s only for the initial questioning. I’ll take over if the case goes any further.”

  Jayne shifted her bag to her opposite shoulder and cleared her throat. She was tired and cranky, and spending hours in a police station was the last thing she wanted, but Darren wouldn’t have asked if he’d had any other choice. “Okay,” she said. “As it’s you.”

  He laughed. “You’re a life saver.”

  “Hang on. I’m just going back to my office, so I can take proper notes.” Jayne strode back down the hallway towards her office and unlocked it then nudged the door open with her hip. She dropped everything she was carrying onto the floor and pulled out her chair. She set her mobile down on the desk and put it on speaker.

  “Are you still there?”

  “Yes,” Darren said.

  “Right, give me everything you have.”

  3

  The custody sergeant brought Rupe a weak cup o
f tea. His mother would have called it gnats’ piss. He warmed his hands on the paper cup and glanced around the waiting room. How the fuck had he ended up here?

  “Has my lawyer arrived yet?”

  The sergeant shook his head. “I’ll let you know when they get here.”

  “And then what happens?”

  The copper must have taken pity on Rupe, because he stopped on his way to the door. “The detectives in charge of the case will ask their questions.”

  “And then I’ll be free to go?”

  The sergeant shrugged. “Maybe,” he said, his tone noncommittal.

  He closed the door behind him. Rupe took out his phone. The All Blacks had won. He silently cursed and then dropped his phone on the table. He began pacing around the room. Christ, please let Cash get a decent lawyer here pronto. He’d seen the looks on the coppers’ faces as he’d insisted on legal representation even though they’d made it clear he wasn’t under arrest. Rupe was a lot of things—stupid wasn’t one of them. He’d given his statement, but as it seemed that wasn’t enough, he didn’t want to take any chances by talking to seasoned detectives without a smart, experienced criminal lawyer by his side.

  His sympathy for Nessa began to ebb away as his own self-preservation came to the fore. He should have stayed in the Caribbean. He sat back down and closed his eyes, imagining the gentle rocking of the boat, the blue-green waters all around, and smoked salmon and champagne on a never-ending conveyor belt.

  Where the hell was his bloody lawyer?

  Jayne paid the cab driver and stepped onto the pavement. Her hair had come loose on the journey over, probably because she kept fiddling with it. She didn’t experience nerves at work, but this wasn’t exactly her day job. She had also tried Peter’s phone several times on the way to the station, but to no avail.

  She stuck her bag between her knees and fixed her hair by shoving a couple of extra bobby pins into her chignon. That should do it. With a quick glance at her reflection in a nearby window, she lifted her bag onto her shoulder and entered the police station.