The Client (Professionals 8) - Page 52

“I get your point, Wasp.

“And imagine he hires a shark, someone who wants to bite you and your children to shreds, to leave you with nothing. So, your piece of shit cheating husband can go on with his life like nothing happened, like he was through with all his responsibilities. You know this happens. We’ve heard almost this identical story dozens of times over the years. They have no recourse. Or they had no recourse. Until we showed up. We helped them get what was rightfully theirs by proving their spouse was a cheater. Pictures and all. Is it a morally gray area? Yes, absolutely, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a needed service. Shitty men should have to pay.”

“But not all men are shitty men, Wasp. That is the point I am trying to make, I guess. What if Fenway isn’t a shitty man? What if some woman just blew something out of proportion? For as many shitty men we have come in contact with, we have seen truly disgusting, mean-spirited women too, ones who were just vindictive and ugly-hearted, ones who just wanted to screw with someone’s life because there was a misunderstanding or something like that.”

“Yeah, but we could smell that from a mile away.”

“True. In person. Like all our other meetings have always been. But you never said anything about meeting this woman.”

That was true.

But it was also true that I had slowed down on in-person meetings a while back because I no longer had Raven around to do a meeting when I was on a job or vice versa. The workload had made me automate some things that had once always been handled manually, with face-to-face meetings and carefully outlined plans.

“It was a lot of money, Rave. Don’t tell me you would have told me to turn it down. Back when we were still on the road. Back when money was tighter for both of us.”

“No, you’re right,” she agreed, looking out the window of a house that everyone would collectively call a mini-mansion. “And we both know that if he was an asshole at some point, he likely has more than enough money to try to make sure that never got out to ruin his public persona, or blowback on his family. But I have a hard time believing he was a dickhead if you were falling for him.”

“Why not? Great women fall for shittacular men all the time.”

“Well, that is the damn truth,” she agreed, snorting.

We’d seen it far too many times in our lives. These amazing, intelligent, successful women for some reason ending up with men who sat around and watched sports all day, who had no ambition, who left them to handle all the housework along with the breadwinning.

Why?

That was a good question.

We’d never been able to come to a satisfying explanation for the phenomenon.

“Because I know you. He would have to be a skyscraper of a man to make you take a second look, let alone catch feelings. Maybe somewhere along the way, he pissed off the wrong woman by doing nothing other than being himself. And maybe that self was not right for that woman, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t right for you.”

“Yeah, well, even if that were true, there is no chance, Rave. I took money to con him. He believed me. And that means he would never be able to believe me in the future because he knows how good an actress I am. It’s a nonstarter.”

I expected some empty platitudes that we both knew I would see right through. I didn’t get those, though.

“I think you’re right. And that sucks. And I hate this for you. But I’m here, okay? And you are welcome to stay in this bed and mope for as long as you need to. So long as once a week, you get your ass out of that bed so I can wash the sheets.”

“That sounds reasonable,” I said, giving her a weak smile. “Thank you, Rave,” I told her.

The aching feeling in my chest was hard enough. I couldn’t imagine having to deal with it all alone in Wanda, just traveling with no direction, the loneliness seeping in through the cracks in the windows, curling its long fingers around my throat until I couldn’t breathe through it anymore.

At least here, even if all I was doing was wallowing in my room, I wouldn’t ever be alone. I could hear Raven moving up and down the halls, the kids squealing and laughing, Roman coming home. I wasn’t part of it, but it was all around me. It was a comfort of sorts.

Eventually, I had to have faith, this would fade. Then I could get back on the road, get back to my life, let Raven and her family get back to their normal without the creepy aunt in the attic bedroom, haunting the halls with her misery.

Tags: Jessica Gadziala Professionals Billionaire Romance
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