Once we land in New York City, we head straight to the office where Cole, Alex, and Reese hang out behind closed doors. I, in turn, sit down at Ashley’s desk and look for clues I know I shouldn’t look for. She’s gone now. She’s safe. I have to accept that. I find only one thing that feels significant. A piece of paper where she’s scribbled over and over: Why? Why? Why? I pray she has those answers now, that she at least has that peace of mind, even if the answers aren’t good answers. Maybe the man she loved really did love her.
With the party Saturday night, and Alex here now, I call my mother and arrange breakfast for Saturday morning at her new place. I then call a temp service and line up interviews to replace Ashley for Monday. I deliver this news to Maria, who arches a brow. “What happened to Ashley?”
“The relocation wasn’t the right one for her,” I say cautiously. “Which I hate, but we’ll suffer through it.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but I don’t give her a chance to ask more questions. I grab all of Cole’s messages and head back to his office, where I weed through the ones I can handle, and pull out the ones I know he needs to deal with today. Next, I sit down at his conference table and go through the caseload his team is handling and look for the red flags he needs to address. Most of the staff is gone when Cole walks into the office. “Alex and Reese just left for dinner alone. They need to make sure they connect one-on-one.”
“How do you feel about it?” I ask as he sits down next to me.
“Like it’s magic. This is what we need. He’ll take Houston to the places I would have had I stayed, which means taking on the state of Texas and beyond.”
His office phone buzzes. “Cole.”
“Yes, Julia?” he says to the receptionist.
“There’s a woman here asking for Lori, but ah—I think you both need to come here—” She lowers her voice. “Now. Come now.”
Both of our eyes go wide and we’re on our feet in two flat seconds. We cross the office side by side. “Do you think it’s a reporter over the Roger thing? Or maybe a reporter that found out I met with the DA?”
“A reporter wouldn’t surprise me,” he agrees.
We reach the lobby and find Julia standing, waiting on us. “She’s in the conference room. She says she needs immediate representation and she’s got blood down her neck. I don’t think she knows. Do you want me to call the police?”
I look at Cole, a question in my eyes. “We’ll call the police,” he says. “Just not yet.” He looks at Julia. “We’ll handle it.” He eyes me. “Let’s go talk to her. We’ll call the police with her, regardless of whether we represent her or not.”
I nod and we round the reception desk and walk down a hallway to enter the conference room. The woman is facing the window but turns at our entry. She’s pretty, brunette, petite, mid-thirties—maybe forty—but her hair is a bit wild and her pink blouse is missing a button. Cole shuts the door. “I want to hire you, Lori,” she says, glancing at Cole and then me. “I need a woman. Only a woman can understand. I need client-attorney privilege.”
“We need to know the facts of the case,” Cole says, “and we need to know before we commit to represent you.”
She cuts her gaze and when she looks at us again, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m Jenna Reynolds. My husband is Mike Reynolds, as in the famous sportscaster. I killed him. He was hitting me again—again, he just—he hit me all the time and I didn’t mean to do it.” Her voice lifts on the final words. She sucks in air and exhales. “I grabbed for something to get him off me and I hit him. I don’t even know what it was. I just reached. His head—his head started—bleeding.” She yanks up her blouse and there’s massive bruising down her ribs, some yellow and some dark black, like she’s taken multiple beatings at random times. “There are plenty more. My back. My head, but you can’t see that. He hit me in places that no one would see.” She grabs the back of a chair. “I didn’t call the police. I saw Lori on TV. I saw her closing arguments. I need help. He’s powerful. He’s friends with the police commissioner. Please help.”
I step forward and press my hands to the chair across from her. “Why didn’t you leave him?”
“He threatened to ruin my mother, to bankrupt her, and I believed he would. She—she has investments and—he could have done worse, I believed that, too. She’s all I have.”
My gut knots. Like my mother was for me before Cole. Cole’s hand comes down on my arm. “Let’s go talk.”
I nod. “We’ll be right back.”
I turn and exit the room with Cole on my heels. The minute we’re in the hallway and the conference room door shuts, I face Cole. “I want this case. I know the police commissioner might be a problem, but Cole—”
“It’s your case, Lori,” he says. “It’s the one. It’s your case.”
“She needs you. I’m still too green. I know this. I’m objective.”
“Anyone who has you or me has us both, but she wants you. This is your case to lead.”
“You want me to lead?”
“Yes. I do, and she does, too.”
“Am I ready?”
He kisses my hand. “You were born ready, sweetheart.”
“I need you on this,” I say.
“I’ll second.”
“You can’t second. You own the firm.”
“I will happily second to you and not because you’re my wife, but because she does need a woman. As another female, you’ll give her credibility. If you believe in her, the jury can, too.”
“I want to take it, but can we handle the police?”
“Damn straight we can handle the police.”
He pulls me to him. “This is your dream, Lori. This is your time to shine. Let’s go back inside and rescue this woman. The way you rescued your mother.”
“The way you rescued me.”
“You just let me come along for the ride. You rescued you. I just fell in love.”
“You did so much more,” I say, “and I’ll detail that for you tonight, when we’re alone. You saved me.” I kiss him, this man who is always lifting me up, never pushing me down, or holding me back.
“As you did me, Lori. Let’s go save someone else.”
And together we enter the conference room again to do just that: save someone else, to save a life the way we saved each other.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Lori
Saturday morning, Cole and I arrive at my mother’s new apartment which is off the Hudson River, both of us dressed in jeans and the new Summer and Brooks T-shirts that we just had made; mine pink, and his navy. “I have no idea why I’m nervous,” I say, as we ride up in the elevator. “I’ve met Joe. I’ve even been to the apartment, so I’ve seen it. It’s stunning.”
Cole pulls me close. “Not since the day she moved in. You love your mother. Your biggest fear has been her getting hurt again.”
“Yes. I love her. I’m so afraid he’ll hurt her.”
“Today’s good then,” he says. “You need to find peace with her new life.”
The elevator dings and I pant out a breath. “And here we go.”
“It’ll be good.”
I nod and we exit into the hallway. Once we’re at the door, I ring the bell and my mother answers almost immediately, and she’s radiant. Her brown hair is long and shiny, her green eyes alight with happiness. Her petite frame fit. “Honey!” she hugs me and then moves to Cole. “My other honey now.”
Cole laughs and embraces her before she waves us in. “Joe is in the kitchen slaving away. Come.” She heads down the long hallway, white tile beneath our feet and we enter the living area that is an open concept with the kitchen, a wall of windows allowing the water to become the centerpiece of the room.
“Hey, everyone!” Joe calls out, scooping pancakes onto a plate from a skillet on the stove smack in the center of a large, black granite island.
My mother joins him and she’s tiny compared to Joe, who is a good si
x-foot-three and fit, with muscles that go on forever, while his goatee is flecked with gray to match his hair.
Cole and I join them, and Joe really is a great guy. He and Cole start talking and the rapport between the men is instant. A few minutes later, we sit down to eat. “So, Joe,” I say. “You’re an architect. That’s very interesting. How did you get interested in design work?”
“I was young and in the special forces and happened to rescue a rather famous architect. We were in hiding together for months. He stirred my interest, taught me skills that he said should have taken much longer to learn and I was hooked. When I got out, I went to school and the rest is history. I designed this building.”
“He’s incredible,” my mother says, stars in her eyes. Too many stars. They’re still new.
“Have you been married before?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says. “Happily. She died. And I was alone a long time until I met your mother. Which is why I don’t intend to lose her. I’ve asked her to marry me.”
I suck in air and Cole’s hand squeezes my leg. “What?”
“I love her very much.”
My mother reaches into her pocket and pulls out her ring, holding it up, and then sticking it on her finger. “I didn’t want you to see it until we told you.” She holds it out and it’s a stunning solitaire. And big. Really big. “I love it. Do you love it?”
I look at Joe, his eyes holding mine, and I let myself see what is there. Let myself see the love. I let myself let go of the past. I turn my attention to my mother. “It’s gorgeous. I do love it. And I’m so happy for you.” I hug her and hug her and hug her.
“I want to get married in the Hamptons,” she says. “We love it. We’d like to use your place there, now that we know it’s yours. Can we?”
“We’d be honored to host your wedding,” Cole says.
“Yes,” I agree. “Honored. When?”
“The sooner the better,” Joe says. “But I want it to be special for your mother.”
She looks at him. “For us.”
“For us, baby,” he says, and the endearment both punches me in the chest and makes me smile. He’s not my father, but I believe Joe is happiness for my mother. I believe he’s her Prince Charming. Like Cole is mine.
A long time later, when we are at home, I tell him just that. “You are my Prince Charming.”
He laughs. “Do I get to be in charge then? I mean, if I’m a prince and all.”
“Don’t get any ideas.”
“I do have some ideas,” he says lifting me and carrying me up the stairs, and setting me on the chair in our bedroom, in front of the window before going down on a knee. “Let me show you some of my ideas.” He pulls a black box from under the chair and sets it in my lap. “Open it and pick your pleasure.”
Curious I open the box and find all kinds of sexy items I’ve never dared or even considered using. “Scared?” he asks.
“No,” I say. “This is you. I will do anything or go anywhere with you.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes.” I set the box aside and lace my fingers at his neck. “You’re only a Prince Charming because I trust you that much. And trust is everything.”
“You,” he says, stealing a kiss, “are everything.” He pulls me to him and we go down on the rug, the box forgotten. There’s just us, and no matter what we face, no matter who we battle, the District Attorney included, we can’t lose, because we have each other. We are everything, and for the first time in my life, letting someone else be part of my everything is safe. It’s perfect. I really do have my happily ever after.
The end
***
Don't miss Cat and Reese's second book, Dirty Rich One Night Stand: Two Years Later! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby... Are you ready?!
LEARN MORE HERE:
https://dirtyrich.weebly.com/dirty-rich-one-night-stand-two-years-later.html
***
There’s more Dirty Rich—Reid’s book: Dirty Rich Obsession is available now, as well as my newest release: Dirty Rich Betrayal! Keep reading for an excerpt from both books, plus DON’T MISS MY UPCOMING BRAND-NEW FILTHY DUET!
Book one, THE BASTARD, is available for pre-order and will be out on November 14th!
LEARN MORE HERE:
https://filthyduet.weebly.com/
I'm the bastard child, son to the mistress, my father's backup heir to the Mitchell empire. He sent me to Harvard. I left and became a Navy SEAL, but I'm back now, and I finished school on my own dime. I'm now the right hand man to Grayson Bennett, the billionaire who runs the Bennett Empire. I'm now a few months from being a billionaire myself. I don't need my father's company or his love. My "brother" can have it. I will never go back there. I will never be the mistake my father made, the way he was the mistake my mother made.
And then she walks in the door, the princess I'd once wanted more than I'd wanted my father's love. She wants me to come back. She says my father needs to be saved. I don't want to save my father but I do want her. Deeply. Passionately. More than I want anything else.
But she's The Princess and I'm The Bastard. We don't fit. We don't belong together and yet she says he needs me, that she needs me. We're like sugar and spice, we don't mix, but I really crave a taste. Just one. What harm can just one taste do?
There are a TON of Dirty Rich books forthcoming this year, and into 2019! Be sure you’re up to date on all things Dirty Rich by visiting:
https://dirtyrich.lisareneejones.com
SERIES READING ORDER
Dirty Rich One Night Stand (Cat & Reese book 1)
Dirty Rich Cinderella Story (Lori & Cole book 1)
Dirty Rich Obsession (Reid & Carrie book 1)
Dirty Rich Betrayal (Mia and Grayson book 1)
Dirty Rich Cinderella Story: Ever After (Lori & Cole book 2)
Dirty Rich One Night Stand: Two Years Later (Cat & Reese book 2)
Dirty Rich Obsession: All Mine (Reid & Carrie book 2)
Dirty Rich Neighbor (Gabe’s story)
EXCERPT FROM DIRTY RICH OBSESSION
Reid
I want this woman.
I want her in a bad way, and my tongue licks hungrily into her mouth even as I tighten my grip on her hair. Her hand is warm on my chest, but her elbow is stiff, her entire body is stiff, and I don’t accept this from her. I want her submission. I want her to admit she wants like I want, so I deepen the kiss, my hand settling between her shoulder blades, molding her close.
She moans into my mouth, a sexy, aroused sound, but she still fights me. She still shoves weakly at my chest, and her eyes meet mine. “This is just—”
“Hate sex,” I supply. “Works for me.” My mouth slants over hers again, and this time, she doesn’t hold back. She kisses me like she did in that hotel room, her hands sliding under my jacket, over my shirt, and I am hot and hard and ready to be inside her.
I reach up and skim her jacket off her shoulders, my mouth barely leaving hers. I cannot get enough of how she tastes, I damn sure can’t get enough of how she feels, and my hands are all over her, caressing her breasts, my finger ripping away a button of her silk blouse.
“You owe me a button and alterations,” she hisses, tugging at the buttons of my vest. “And I hate this thing.”
I walk her backward and press her against the desk. “And I hate these damn buttons,” I say, yanking two more off.
“Reid!”
I snap the front clasp of her bra free.
Her hands go to my arms and I pant out, “I’ll buy you another.”
“What are we doing, Reid? We work together. You’re my—”
“Boss,” I supply, cupping her backside and molding her closer. “Yes. I am. Start remembering it.”
“I remember, and hate that fact, quite well.”
“Like you hate me?” I challenge.
“Right now?” she says. “Yes.”
I tangle my fingers in
her hair again, dragging her mouth to mine, “Exactly why we need to fuck,” I say, cupping her breast and pinching her nipple. “So we can both stop thinking about how much we want to be naked together.” I kiss her again, swallowing another of her soft, sexy moans while yanking her skirt up her hips, over the lace of her black thigh-highs to her hips.
With that sweet little ass of hers finally bare to my touch, I palm it and squeeze. She yanks hard on my tie, and I have no idea how that makes me hotter and harder, but it does. She does. Every taste of her. Every sound she makes. Everything she does. “Can you just be inside me already?” she demands.
I could, I think. I should want to, but that question, that need in her to just do this and be beyond it and me, grates down my spine in an unexpected way. I don’t like it. I turn her and press her to the desk, forcing her to catch herself on the smooth surface. Her ass is perfect, and that too should please me, but it pisses me off. I smack her backside and she yelps, looking over her shoulder.
“Did you really just—”
I yank the red silk of her panties, and the tiny strings rip under my tug. She gasps, and I step into her, smacking her backside again. “Yes,” I say, my hand sliding around her, fingers cupping her sex, my lips by her ear. “I did, and,” I stroke through the slick wet heat of her sex, “you liked it.”
“I didn’t—”
I turn her, and kiss her, my tongue doing a quick, deep slide before I demand, “What happened to trust? I can’t trust you if you lie to me.”
“I don’t lie,” she says, yanking at my tie again. “Maybe you just think I lie because that’s all you know.”
“And yet, I never deny anything that feels good the way you just did.” I lift her and set her on the desk, spreading her legs and settling on my knees in front of her.
She tries to squeeze her legs together but it’s too late. My hands catch her knees, opening her wide. Her eyes meet mine. “You want to pay me back, don’t you? That’s what this is?”
Dirty Rich Cinderella Story: Ever After: Lori & Cole Page 19
