That went for time as much as food.
Just not when it came to his family legacy and opulent home. We all had our quirks, I supposed.
Striding through the entryway, I made my way down the hall to the left until I stood in the open door of his office. His daughter Irina stood in front of the desk, pointing something out to him briefly. Seeming to hear my approach, she turned to face me with a bright smile. "Mr. Bellandi. How nice to see you."
"It's good to see you too, Irina," I said, genuine in my joy at seeing her. I'd given to her charity frequently, had gotten to know the woman in passing, just well enough to know that she was one of the good ones.
"How's Samara?" she asked, having seen right through my bullshit the first time she laid eyes on Samara and I together at one of her charity functions where I often brought her as my date.
"She’s why I'm here actually," I said, glancing toward her father where he sat behind his desk and eyeing our interaction. "Her ex has been jerking her around with the divorce. I need it taken care of today."
"Well, hello to you too, Angelino," Judge Ryan said with a grin, gesturing to the seat opposite him.
"I'll leave you to it," Irina ducked out of the room, knowing full well that she had no place in her father's business when it came to his position as a judge.
"Hello, Judge," I sighed, dropping into the seat when he eyed it again.
"Surely you know that interfering in divorce proceedings is a little outside my specialty." He eyed me warily.
I glanced around the office, appreciating the finer points of his masculine space that tended toward very traditional lines. It may not have been to my personal taste, but that didn't mean it wasn't something I could appreciate, regardless. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
"And this has nothing to do with your feelings for the girl?" His look of disbelief said he knew that to be bullshit.
I sighed. "Of course it does, but it's complicated."
"Enlighten me, or I'm afraid I can't wade in without understanding what I'm getting into. You're a businessman. You know my reputation is on the line for every one of these favors we negotiate. I need to know that it won't blow back on me."
I spit it out, not having any choice but to just admit the truth in the face of his threat not to help me. I didn't know any other judges well enough to go to them with a request like this. "He was abusive. Raped her when she asked for the divorce. Three nights ago, he broke into the house and strangled her. Turns out, he burned through his trust fund and needs money to pay off Tiernan Murphy. I need her divorced from Walsh before Murphy comes looking for retribution. It's the best way to keep her safe."
He sat back in his chair, blinking at me. "He hurt her?"
I nodded back, eyeing my hands that clenched into fists. "She can't go to work because she's bruised so badly. Her feet are scarred from stepping on glass when she tried to get away from him after the rape."
He sighed, rubbing his hands over his aging face. "Granting the divorce will only do so much good in the eyes of Tiernan Murphy. Without something to protect her, he'll still try to use her as leverage. Murphy doesn't pass up a woman like Miss Mahoney when he gets her under his thumb."
"I know. She won't be Samara Mahoney for long. I'll do whatever it takes to protect her. You know that."
"You'll marry her to protect her?"
"I'll marry her, because I love her. But yes, I'll marry her now to protect her," I agreed. "Once she's Samara Bellandi, not even Tiernan Murphy would dare to touch her."
"Have you informed her of your pending nuptials?" he asked, but he was already reaching for the phone at his side to make the appropriate phone calls.
"Not yet." I shrugged, even though anxiety swirled in my gut. I meant it when I said that I would do anything to protect her, even manipulating her into marrying me through threats.
I just really hoped it didn't come to that for the sake of our marriage.
"I wish you the best of luck with that, my friend," the judge chuckled, dialing his phone. I tuned him out when he started talking to someone on the other line, finding out who was responsible for Samara's case and negotiating his way through it with as little information as possible. I appreciated his discretion, because I knew Samara would kill me if the abuse became common knowledge thanks to my interference.
I didn't want her on my bad side, even if the thought of going toe to toe with her was a welcome one.
Especially once she was my wife.
By the time he ended his phone call, there was a Divorce Decree waiting for me to pick up at the Court. Samara was free, and I was free to make her mine.
Fucking finally.
Thirteen