She holds out her hand to me, her voice traveling straight to my cock.
“Shoot to kill.”
Time stops. Our eyes lock, and her mouth turns up with a hint of sass. My heart burns. I hand her the gun.
“Good girl.”
JULIANNA
Present
Manhattan, NY
“Good morning, Ms. Dutch,” my father’s secretary says when I enter the top floor of his lavish office. She eyes my outfit. “Love that suit.”
Emily is new, and in spite of her politeness, she bothers me. Maybe because she’s a little older than me and has her eyes on my eighty-year-old father. Yeah, that’d be it.
“Thanks.” I smile. “I’ll let myself in.”
She nods as I pass, my vibe anything but friendly. It’s not like I have a say in my father’s life, but another thirty-year-old secretary is getting a bit cliché.
I swing the doors to my dad’s kingdom open, not caring that I’m ten minutes late. I know what they want, and despite how much of a disappointment my ex-husband is, I have no intention of leaking or verifying his homosexuality to the press.
“Morning, sorry I’m late.” All heads turn to eye me. My father sits like the mean old king that you read about as a child, a frown plastered on his face.
“Julianna.” His tone is curt as I walk around his monstrously large desk to give him a kiss. He looks horrified, again, the whole not-showing-affection thing still alive and well with him. But today I don’t care if he’s mortified. I’m trying to throw him and my ex off a little.
I straighten and turn to Matthew. He looks good. Apparently fucking your yoga teacher and your wife’s hairstylist helps. His soft, pudgy stomach appears to be gone, although the right suit can forgive a lot.
He stands and smiles, clearly nervous. “Julianna, you look absolutely stunning.” His eyes travel over my outfit, taking it in. Money can’t buy you happiness, but it can make you look like you have all the happiness in the world.
“So do you.” Smiling, I sit in one of the dark brown leather chairs at the end of a half-circle of lawyers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know we were supposed to bring our lawyers.”
“You’re taken care of,” my dad says gruffly.
Crossing my legs, I look at my patent leather beige stilettos and smirk. Clearly, they’re desperate. My dad’s humor is a major giveaway.
“We shall see about that.” Dramatically I place my hands on the leather chair’s armrests. A loud slap resonates through the large space.
He frowns but clears his voice. “Sarah? Please inform my daughter what we all think is the best way to proceed.”
I turn to Sarah, keeping the same smile I’ve used since arriving on my lips. She nods and pushes up her designer, black-rimmed glasses. I’d say Sarah’s in her mid-fifties, but with the help of Botox and, I’m assuming, a lot of thread lift, the woman passes for late thirties. She’s also one of my dad’s favorite lawyers, probably because she screams power, money, and bitch.
“Yes, please do, Sarah.”
She doesn’t return my smile. “Julianna.” The aggression in her voice makes my eyes narrow. “With Mr. Berringer’s close connection to you and your father’s business, and with your brother getting ready for his reelection campaign, it’s in everyone’s best interests if the signing of the final divorce papers waits.”
I blink at her. “Excuse me? This definitely sounds like I need my lawyer.” I stand and everyone holds up their hands to calm me.
“Relax.” My lips twitch from forcing myself to smile. “I’m just asking Emily for some coffee.” Everyone, even my dad, let’s out an uncomfortable laugh.
“Anyone else want anything?” I call over my shoulder, trying not to panic. This has to be bad. My dad wouldn’t have the best lawyers in Manhattan in his office otherwise.
I swing the large doors open. Emily’s on the phone, but since I’m in a room with a bunch of vipers, I interrupt her.
“Coffee black, please.” She shoots me a dirty look, but at this point, she’s the least of my worries.
“So,” I say upon returning to my dad’s office, “besides the fact that I don’t have my lawyer, Diana, here, and I won’t do anything without her, maybe they can step outside? I’d like a moment with you.” I sit again and look straight at my father, whose right eye is twitching.
“Julianna,” Sarah hisses as if I’m a bad child in need of discipline. “On your father’s behalf, he’s asked me to mediate. You don’t need Diana for this.” Her voice is dry. She’s trying to intimidate me. A year ago that might have worked, but after you’ve caught your husband getting fucked in the ass by your yoga instructor, and survived the ordeal at Axel and Antoinette’s wedding, people like Sarah don’t really bother you anymore.
The funny thing is, Matthew being gay is of no consequence to me. In all honesty, I knew it. What does make me angry is how my dad manipulated me into marrying Matthew. He knew I was vulnerable, that I didn’t love Matthew, but he insisted anyway.