The Suit (The Bro Series Book 3)
Page 21
I hope someday Hattie forgives me for this…even though I know I won’t forgive myself.
Chapter 14
“So, we’ve reached an agreement?” Donovan, the head of Hadrian’s counsel questions as he looks up from the papers in front of him.
The mediator who is a retired judge, Maury, directs the query my direction. “Have we, Mr. Rossi?”
“I believe so, Your Honour.”
He quickly scribbles something else down on his notepad and leans over to whisper something to his client. Hadrian nods his understanding, eyes doing their best not to stare at Charlotte. Afterwards, Donovan states, “My client would like to say something to Ms. O’Hara before we sign the documents.”
Our gazes divert to Maury who nods in approval.
I motion a hand to encourage Donovan’s client to proceed.
Hadrian sits up straight, a genuine look of remorse coursing through his eyes. “Char, I am deeply sorry for all the pain and anguish this divorce has caused you. I never meant…” his accented voice momentarily trails off. “I never meant for my selfish actions to result in the death of our unborn child. For that I will never forgive myself.”
His words force my eyes to briefly look away.
It’s fucked up to fake a pregnancy to simply receive a paycheck.
To toy with a person’s emotion like that.
A person who might’ve actually wanted the child you only pretended to exist…
Assuming it never existed. She never quite confirmed it did or didn’t. And since proving fraud is not my job I decided to let it go. Which was definitely in my best interest.
“I hope you know, I really did love you,” he quietly professes.
Charlotte dabs at her eyelids where tears would fall from if she hadn’t had her eye ducts permanently glued shut.
Again I’m assuming that information based on her heartlessness.
Hadrian waits for some sort of response, some sort of remorse to escape her. When it doesn’t, he nods, lowers his head, and motions to the head of his council to proceed.
“Very well,” Maury begins, “both parties will sign the paperwork agreeing to what was discussed and decided today.”
We all nod and Donovan announces, “Shall I read the settlement once more for all parties involved or is that your responsibility, Your Honour?”
Maury folds his hands together. “Either way is fine. However, upon reading the current reached upon agreement, this will be the last opportunity to further negotiate previously agreed upon details or request any changes. Do both parties understand?”
Charlotte straightens her posture to an alert position. “Yes, your honour.”
“Yes, Your Honour,” Hadrian echoes.
“Proceed.”
“Ms. O’Hara shall receive monthly payments in the amount of fifty thousand US dollars for the next twenty years given there is no change in Mr. Reynolds financial status. If there is, the fluctuation will be taken into consideration resulting in a ranged increase of up to five percent or a decrease that shall not reach less than forty thousand.”
She never has to work a day in her life all because she manipulated someone into believing she loved them.
Used him.
Controlled him.
Just proves, love is the ultimate weapon.
The things we put ourselves through for it…
Emotionally.
Physically.
Donovan continues, “Ms. O’Hara shall receive the penthouse in New York that was purchased during their marriage as well as all of the belongings inside the residence. She will receive the title and sole ownership over the Ferrari F 12 Berlinetta and Mary Catherine, the Nauta sailing yacht.”
In ways I feel she’s worse than a black widow. At least they please their prey and then do it the service of killing it rather than stealing its favorite toys before bleeding it dry for the next couple of decades.
“Mr. Reynolds will be paying the remainder of Mr. Rossi’s services and reimburse Ms. O’Hara for the amount she has already spent. Ms. O’Hara has declined the offer to have Mr. Reynolds provide payment for any emotional counseling that may occur or has occurred due to the ending of the relationship. In exchange for the agreed upon financial conditions, Ms. O’Hara will not have any further contact with the Reynolds family and will sign a non-disclosure agreement that prevents her from publically discussing her relationship with my client in any media format, including but not limited to television interviews, magazines, the internet, biographies or autobiographies. If Ms. O’Hara violates these terms the monthly agreed upon settlement is void, and she receives nothing.”
“Provided proof that she was the one who spoke directly and not a third party attempting to speak on her behalf,” I clarify.
“Precisely.”
Maury turns his attention to Charlotte. “Ms. O’Hara, are you in agreement?”
She provides him with a single nod. “Yes, Your Honour.”
“Mr. Reynolds?”
He quickly repeats the action. “Yes, Your Honour.”
“Very well. You may sign the paperwork.”
We each slide out documents that will serve as a momentary placeholder until everything can be officially finalized. I address to Charlotte where to sign and initial on the paperwork, verify she doesn’t want to read through it on her own, and slide a portion of it over to Donovan who glances it over. Once he’s satisfied, he points to where his client needs to sign, verifies the same stance, and hands it to our mediator. We repeat the actions with the papers he provides except she doesn’t bother skimming them over. She scribbles her signature and dramatically looks away as if unable to take another moment of the situation.
Donovan, his two silent partners, and Francis Dornan my biggest rival, stand at the same time I do. He extends his hand to shake. “I’m glad we could reach an agreement in a timely fashion, Mr. Rossi.”
This has without a doubt been one of the quickest mediations I’ve ever been through.
I’d say less painful if I was representing Satan’s love child.
“Me too.”
Maury acknowledges the end of the mediation and is first to exit.
Afterwards, Donovan offers us both a polite nod and ushers his hand for Hadrian to leave.
Hadrian stands, takes one last longing look at Charlotte, and attempts to speak. Dornan clears his throat and shakes his head to encourage him to remain silent. He follows the advice and silently slumps out of the conference room.
The security guard we keep on hand for worst case scenarios lifts an eyebrow in silent question. I dismiss him with a small motion towards the door.
Once we’re completely alone, Charlotte tosses the tissue on the table and questions, “What do you think? Were the tears too much?”
I begin to divide the paperwork into their proper folders.
“I felt like they were a little over the top, but then he kept pretending to be choked up every time he was given a chance to talk, so I had to take it to the next level.”
“Did it ever occur to you that perhaps he actually was choked up?” Shutting the folder, I mumble under my breath, “Though why is the real question.”
She slithers her body from the chair to the edge of the table to give me an unwanted view between her thighs. Her hand lands firmly on my shoulder to grab my attention. “Because this is the best pussy there is on the planet.”
“It’s not.”
“Maybe you’ve just forgotten how good it was.” She opens her legs slightly wider. “Why don’t you let me remind you before you run off to play house with Miss Frizzle’s biracial cousin?”
The insult narrows my eyes. “It would be in your best legal interest to proceed with caution how you speak about my future wife.”
“Future wife? You asked that hag to marry you?” She scoffs loudly. “Paxy, you can do so much better.”
“Love isn’t about doing better or comparing yourself to your partner to make sure you’re on the same playing fie
ld. It’s about your emotions, something you don’t have. Trust, something you don’t deserve. And commitment, something you aren’t capable of giving.” Rising to my feet, I continue, “And the real reason you’ll never be actually in love with anyone other than yourself, Char, is because you can’t control love, and you’re not willing to let yourself submit to that fact.”
Her stare becomes cold.
“From a legal standpoint you’re treading on defamation of my fiancée's character, which violates the agreement you just signed.”
She tilts her head sarcastically. “My divorce papers didn’t mention shit about your future ex-wife.”
Once I convince Ryann to not only take me back, but spend the rest of our lives together, I’m never letting her get away.
She belongs with me.
We belong together.
We should be a family, and I will do everything possible to assure we stay that way.
No divorce for this divorce attorney.
“They did not, but the paperwork that was on the bottom of the stack was the official document I had drawn that you agreed to sign upon me taking this case.”
Charlotte’s eyebrows soar.
“It states you are not allowed within five hundred feet of me, my family, or my extended family, which includes Bart. You’re not allowed any contact with them now or me once this divorce is finalized. You’re not allowed to slander our name or reputation. You’re not allowed to disclose information from our time together, and we are now financially even for the investment you gave me to start my firm. Consequences of violating any of those components are fifty thousand dollars monthly for the next twenty years and possible jail time.” My smirk becomes vindictive. “Save your breath on objecting to the fairness or ethnical action of having you sign it without your knowledge. You should always take time to read legal documents before you sign them, regardless if you trust the person or not. You never know when someone might be trying to fuck you over or in this case prevent you from fucking them over a second time.” I gather the folders into my grasp and head out of the room for my office. “You can see yourself out, Charlotte.”
Crafting the legal document itself was tricky.
Had she been rewarded more for longer it would’ve been a risk she may have been willing to take. It was why I pushed for that amount. I knew if I could get her to agree to it and then threaten to take it, she would be more likely to keep her mouth shut. Initially, I began working on it when she announced we would be mediating, but I cleaned up the clauses, got a second opinion, and everything finalized this last week during the time I wished I was with my family.
With the people I want to be my family.
With the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.
After getting the files secured in a private safe rather than where I typically file paperwork, I lean back in my office chair in contemplation.
I’ve fixed one problem, how the fuck do I fix the other?
Deciding it would be better to have advice than continue to wallow in misery for another week, I crack the window in my office, light up the emergency cigar that sits in the top drawer of my desk, and pick up my cell to call one of my bros on speaker. When the first doesn’t answer, I move onto the next, thankful I didn’t have to get to choice number three.
“Hey,” Holden says cheerfully.
“Hey.”
“You sound like shit,” he immediately claims. “What’s up?”
Never having seen the point in beating around a bush, I blow out a long stream of smoke and sigh, “I need advice.”
There’s a short pause followed by, “From me?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you call Nate first?”
“Yeah.”
“At least, I’m before Wyatt,” he lightly laughs to himself. “What do you need?”
The events from last week’s fallout replay in my mind, and I try to recount them without tremble in my voice. “Ryann insisted we separate last week.”
“Because?”
“Because the should be dead, douche bag, sperm donor found a way to use our relationship as a bargaining chip to get more custody of his daughter.”
Holden can’t help himself from arguing, which is expected given his circumstance, “Shouldn’t he be entitled to have more time with her?”
“If he were a decent human being, I’d say yes. If he was even partially a decent fucking person who wanted anything other than to torment and control Ryann’s life, I would again, say yes. But he doesn’t. The only thing he wants is control, which he has because Ryann’s ultimate fear is losing Hattie to that figlio di puttana. He doesn’t love Hattie. He doesn’t love Ryann. He only loves watching her suffer. Humiliating her.” My hand scrubs my thick scruff covered cheek. “And Hattie’s life is put at risk every time he has her in his care. She’s got medical shit he doesn’t give a fuck about. He neglects her when he should be spending time with her. She comes home filthy, in the same clothes and starving, Holden. Don’t even get me started on the random bruises and marks I know, I fucking know in my minugia, are from him mistreating her. I can’t let him get more custody, but I can’t just walk out of their lives, either.”
“And you fucking shouldn’t,” Holden promptly agrees. “You should be there fighting for them and with them.”
“She won’t answer my calls.”
“Then fucking show up on her doorstep.”
Wouldn’t be the first time…
Wonder if it’s less or more romantic considering the situation.
“Go over there, Pax, and prove to her you give a damn about both of them. That you’re not afraid to fight for what’s right. That they’re not in this battle alone.”
His words shift me in my seat.
“Once she accepts your heartfelt apology, wait a few days, then give her that ‘natural champagne marquise diamond with white diamond accents’ that you’re hiding in the top drawer at your apartment you never visit.”
Hearing him describe the engagement ring Ainsley helped me pick out for Ryann causes me to bite, “Stop fucking spying on me!”
“Checking in,” he corrects. “Honestly, the latter was just an educated guess.”
I start to snap again when an idea spirals me another direction. “Any chance you could put those skills to a better use for me?”
The pause most likely is accompanied with a smile. “On record like when I did a little research about Duke Reynolds or off the record like for the treasure you still keep locked up in a chest?”
His reference to how we talked about Julez without using her name provides me with reassurance this is the right decision. “Off.” I take a short beat to stick the cigar back in my mouth. “At least for now.”
Holden hums his private contemplation. “Yeah. I can let you know if I happen to come across anything of interest about Jesse Davidson, Ashwin Alumni who wouldn’t have graduated had mommy and daddy not made a hefty donation that helped fund a dying outreach program.”
It’s my turn to smirk. “I appreciate it.”
“It’s not a big deal. I’ve got a couple hours to kill while Meena makes our pre-Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving meal. I’ll let you know.”
“Seriously. Appreciate it, Holden.”
“My pleasure.”
And it is. Hacking peoples lives apart…Digitally dissecting them until they’re broken down to dirty, indisputable truths based on their patterns is something he has loved for as long as I can remember. In the past, it helped keep Julez a protected memory. Now? Now I hope it’ll protect the only two people I’m afraid to live without.
Chapter 15
The screen on my laptop finally goes into sleep mode for the first time in hours.
As if there isn’t already enough trouble to trek through, I was called into the financial office to discuss one of the purchases I made at the estate sale. Apparently, one of the curators at the Weinsvuag gallery claim our submitted portrait was a fake.
I know it’s not.
Proving that I was focused during my trip, despite Pax’s presence, is now my top priority.
And I was focused at that time….
Unlike now when all I can think about is how empty my life feels without him constantly in it.