by Claire Angel
My outburst was a combination of her bad timing and frustration on my part. I felt embarrassed, so naturally I attacked. She was a tough cookie—I was impressed at how she handled my tantrum. The girl had spunk, just like her mother. On the drive home I wondered if my life would ever be normal again. I felt as if my world was turned upside down. Everything I thought I knew about Cassandra was a lie. I thought we’d be happy and raise our incredible son together, but life never takes you down the road you thought it would. I was too proud and stubborn to listen to the warnings. That was a mistake I had no intention of making again.
I had to have Cody closer to me. It wasn’t as if Cassandra cared, anyway. To her he was merely a pawn she used to antagonize me. It was obvious by the way she acted that she would far rather he be someone else's responsibility than hers. Cody spent much of his time with sitters when it was her turn to have him. The poor kid was like a yoyo, bouncing from one place to another. It was time to get full custody of my child. Cody needed to know that his father would move mountains to show him how much he was loved.
I called my attorney when I got home.
“Hi, Frank. How are you doing?” I said as he answered.
Frank was a warrior. When Cassandra and I divorced, it was Frank who fought in my corner. I was just sorry that I agreed to shared custody of Cody at the time. I thought I was doing what was best for my child, but it was a mistake. One that I was intent on fixing.
“Hey, Noah. Good to hear from you. I’m good, how about you? I take it this is not a social call,” he said.
“No, it isn’t, Frank.”
“I have a feeling I know what it is,” he said.
“I want to have full custody of Cody, Frank. Cassandra is messing with my son’s mind and mine for that matter.”
“Okay,” he said pensively. “Come by my office tomorrow morning, and let’s get the paperwork started. You know she’s not going to just hand the kid to you, right?”
“I live in the real world. I know she’s going to fight me as if her very life depended on it. Those maintenance checks are her shoe and pizza money.”
“And then some. Okay, see you in the morning,” he said, and we ended the call.
I felt instantly better. It was time. I’d waited too long as it was. I had enough dirt on Cassandra if she refused to play nicely. Her conquests weren’t a state secret. No judge worth his rope would rule against me, unless he too was sleeping with the bitch.
Dinner was a quiet affair. Apart from talking on the phone to Charlie, after which I switched off my phone, I went through my emails, and went for a long run to clear my head.
Janice gave me that look when I came into the kitchen, drenched in sweat from my run.
“That bad, hey?” she asked, as I grabbed cold bottled water from the fridge.
“It’s about to get a whole lot better, Janice. A whole lot better.”
“I see. You have a plan, then?”
“I’m seeing Frank tomorrow morning about getting full custody of Cody.”
“That’s wonderful news. I better start feeding you raw steak. You’re going to need all the energy you can get for the epic fight with the dragon lady.”
“Stock up, Janice. This carnivore’s ready for a fight.”
“That’s my boy. I was wondering how long you were going to let her push your buttons.”
“It’s not my buttons I care about. That bitch can do what she wants to me, I don’t care. But when it comes to my son, I’ll fight her tooth and nail.”
“I almost feel sorry for her.” Janice smiled at me. “I left your dinner in the oven for you. Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?”
“No, thanks, Janice. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The weight of indecision had lifted from my shoulders. After a refreshing shower, I had dinner and went to bed. The last thing I remembered was seeing a beautiful pair of green eyes, and then I was asleep.
My body clock woke me at six. I enjoyed having Janice around, but it was nice to be alone so early in the morning. I walked to the kitchen in my jocks, made myself a cup of coffee, then took it out onto the deck. It was a beautiful morning—made even more beautiful, I suspected, because it was the day I would take back control of my life and that of my son’s.
Janice arrived at seven-thirty and whipped up a good breakfast for me. She gave me the hairy eyeball when I asked if it was eggs benedict.
“No, you butter junkie. Today is avo on rye. You need brain food today if you’re going to slay the giant.” She giggled.
“Yes, drill sergeant!”
“Oh, hush, you naughty boy. Eat your avo.”
After breakfast I swung by Frank’s office. His assistant showed me in as soon as I arrived.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked. She was a tall, waiflike creature with stilettos so high I was sure she would snap something if she stumbled. I didn’t get the obsession women had to shorten their Achilles with the aid of impossibly high heels. But, fashion was a killer.
“Not for me, thanks.”
Frank was sitting at his round, oak table. He waved me in with one hand, while pinching his cell phone between his ear and his shoulder, and scribbling something down with the other hand. His desk was pristine. Every file, paper, pen, stapler, you name it, was in its place, as if an invisible line demarcated each item to its specific place.
“Yes. Let’s do the deposition this afternoon. At three. Yeah, okay, see you later. Cheers.”
He ended the call and placed his phone on the desk. Then, he handed a sheet of paper to his assistant and gave her instructions as to what to do with the info on it. Then, he turned to me when she’d left the room.
“Hi, Noah. Sorry, crazy busy this morning. Looks like there’s a run on divorce specials this week. Everyone wants to get their bargain while it lasts,” he said, laughing at his own joke.
“Yup, it must be something in the water.”
“Okay, let’s get started on your paperwork,” he said, back to his kickass, legal ninja persona.
“Like I said last night, I’m tired of this woman confusing and hurting our son. I want Cody to live with me, and I don’t care how much I have to pay to make it happen.”
“Message received,” he said. “I’ll take care of the paperwork today, and file first thing tomorrow morning. You may want to change your cell number because Cassandra is going to unleash unholy hell on you once she’s served.”
“No shit. Thanks, Frank.”
He printed out documents and placed them in front of me.
“Here you go. You fill those in, and I’ll chat to a buddy of mine at the court to see how soon we can go before the judge.”
After an hour, I left his office, hopeful that my son would soon be with me, where he belonged. It was past ten when I arrived at the office.
Brooke was sitting at her desk, typing away when I got off the elevator. She wore a tight fitting pants suit, hugging her sexy body like a glove, and her hair was up off her shoulders. Bloody hell, she was gorgeous.
“Good morning, Noah.” She smiled.
“Hi, Brooke. Any fires while I was gone?”
“Nope. It’s been smooth sailing here this morning. I left your messages from yesterday and this morning on your desk for you.”
“Thanks.”
I entered my office and closed the door behind me. Brooke was a distraction I didn’t have time or energy for. I needed to focus. I wished I’d never agreed to Martha’s crazy request. Six months of Chinese water torture! I was thankful to have plenty to keep me busy. Chatting up Martha’s daughter was a really stupid idea. I just wished she wasn’t so fucking stunning.
Chapter 8
BROOKE
Day two, and I was determined to make Mom proud. After a rocky start, I decided to forget the unpleasantness and approach my new boss with caution and common sense. My heart skipped a beat when he got off the elevator. His longish hair was slicked back, and his hazel eyes stood out against his o
live skin. He wore dark blue chinos and a white button-down shirt. The sleeves hugged his strong arms, and I could have sworn I saw the faint ripples of a six pack as he moved. Nice of Mom not to mention his chiseled tush. Then again, it wasn’t something a mother would necessarily discuss with her daughter.
Not that I was gaga over the man. His vicious temper and sharp tongue were enough to dampen his allure. However, there was no getting around the fact that he was one fine piece of ass.
What started off as a mellow morning, turned into a humdinger of a day. The phone rang off the hook, and the office was a hive of staff coming in and out of Noah’s office—all with his express permission, of course. By the time I looked at my watch, it was six-thirty. The building was empty, except for a few key staff members. At seven, Noah finally emerged from his cave.
“What a crazy day,” he said, running his hand through his black hair.
“Is it always like this?” I asked.
“Not usually, but the construction of a very large project usually brings a few hiccups with it.”
He looked at his wristwatch, then at me.
“You must be starving. I know I am. The least I can do is feed you. What would your mother say if I let her only child starve?”
“She would be pissed. That’s very decent of you, thanks.”
“Great. What are you in the mood for? Chinese, Italian, Thai?” he asked, politely.
“As long as it’s ladened with butter and cheese, I’ll be happy.”
“I don’t know why, but I figured you for a lettuce and tofurkey girl.” He grinned.
“Hell, no. I like rich food and plenty of it.”
“Italian it is, then,” he said. “We’ll take my car, then I’ll bring you back here afterward. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I’d be lying through my teeth if I said his sudden metamorphosis from serial killer to choirboy didn’t confuse me. Jeckle and Hyde much? He was intriguing, and like a moth to the flame, I had to know more. I didn’t know Noah Blakely from a bar of soap, but he seemed very different from the day before. Something had obviously changed, or perhaps the sight of his tight ass and the scent of his cologne had me imagining things.
“Let’s take my elevator,” he said, and held open the doors for me while I grabbed my purse and car keys.
His car was parked in the basement, away from the others. The charcoal-colored F-type Jag was striking—a babe magnet for sure. He opened the door for me, and I slid onto the plush leather seat. Sublime.
“Your mom tells me you just graduated. She’s very proud of you, you know,” he said as we pulled out of the basement and chewed up the tar under the wheels of his Jag.
“Yes, I finished my degree two months ago.”
“What did you study?”
“Applied maths,” I said, absolutely astounded at my need to impress him.
“Smart girl.” He smiled.
“I try,” I replied with an ‘ah, it was nothing really’ tone.
“What do you think of your mom’s trek into the wilderness?”
“I think it’s wonderful. She’s been talking about it for years. I’m glad she’s finally committed to doing something for herself for a change.”
“What about you?” he asked.
“What about me, what?”
“Well, I can imagine that working for me for six months wasn’t part of the bigger plan. How did your mom manage that?”
“Good question. To be honest, I’m still not sure how it happened. She can be very convincing,” I said, smiling.
“Don’t I know it. She rules the office with an iron fist.” He laughed out loud. He had a hearty laugh.
“How does a girl who’s addicted to butter and carbs manage to stay slim?” he asked, and I could have sworn I blushed at his question.
“I run my ass off,” I said matter of factly.
“Ah, a fellow jogger.”
“You run?” I asked.
“Like a maniac. It keeps me sane.”
I wondered if he missed his run the day before. It would explain his pissy mood.
“Have you ever eaten at Gino’s?” he asked as his Jag hugged the corner.
“No.”
“You’re going to love the food. The man’s a genius. I eat there all the time. My son loves the pizza.”
He smiled when he mentioned his son.
“How old is he?” I asked, not wanting to pry.
“He’s turning six in a few weeks’ time. Cute as a bug and smart as a whip.”
“What’s his name?”
“Cody. He's a busy little man.”
“They are at that age.”
“You say it as if you have experience,” he said.
“I have plenty of experience with little ones. I love kids—made quite a name for myself in my hood as the best babysitter ever,” I said in a jocular fashion.
“Good to know. Here we go. The best Italian restaurant in the city. I hope you’re hungry. No portion control here.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can hold my own.”
The restaurant decor was nothing to write home about, but the smells wafting toward us from the kitchen was heavenly.
“Ah, ciao, Mr. Blakely! So good to see you,” a rotund Italian woman greeted Noah, kissing him on the cheeks.
“Ciao, Adelia. Smells good in here. How’s Gino?” he asked.
“Oh, you know Gino, busy, busy, busy. He drives me crazy when he isn’t in the kitchen, so I keep him there, in front of the pots.” She looked at me and smiled. “And who is this beautiful girl?” she asked.
“This is Brooke, my PA—Martha’s daughter.”
“Ah, Martha. Molto bello, hey. But where is Martha?”
“She’s off on a whirlwind adventure. We won’t see her for at least six months,” I said. “Noah tells me you make a killer lasagne,” I said to the jolly Adelia.
“Si! The best. Come, I’ll seat you two,” she said and led us to a table near the window.
“Thanks, Adelia. I think a bottle of your finest Chianti will go down a storm,” Noah said.
“Nothing but the best for my beautiful Noah,” she cooed—the flirty Italian mama knew quality when she saw it.
Noah chuckled when the gregarious Adelia walked away, her broad hips only just making it past the tables. Her tone changed as she spoke to the barman in Italian. He obeyed immediately, clearly a smart young man. A few minutes later, an opened bottle of Castello di Ama 2017 was delivered to our table.
“I see you have a bit of influence here,” I said as he poured Chianti into a glass and placed it in front of me.
“I should hope so. I spend a fortune here every year. I’m sure they own a villa in Elba that I funded. My family has been coming here for many years. I practically grew up in front of Adelia and Gino.”
“That’s sweet,” I said. Italian did two things very well, family and food. Oh, and racing cars, of course.
“Would you mind if I ordered a meze? There are so many favorites, I like to have a little bit of everything,” Noah asked, after he took a sip of his Chianti.
“Absolutely, order away.”
When Adelia shuffled back to our table, Noah ordered food in Italian. I watched his mouth as he spoke and smiled at Adelia. How was it possible for him to be so kind and sweet, and then an absolute asshole? He was a complex man. I loved puzzles. I’d put it together one piece at a time until I had the measure of Noah Blakely.
Our conversation was platonic—neither one of us touched on anything heavy. We ate, drank, and chatted. He wanted to know about my degree, and I asked him questions about construction. He had a sharp mind, thank God, and his understanding of engineering and math impressed the hell out of me.
After dinner, Adelia asked if we were in the mood for dessert. I didn’t think I could fit another morsel into my stomach, but ho hum, in went a few mouthfuls of tiramisu.
“Don’t bother taking me back to my car,” I said when we got outside, “just point me in the gener
al direction, and I’ll roll home.”
“And risk the lives of hundreds of pedestrians? Never.”
“Okay, but I hope your Jag’s shocks are sturdy.”
“There’s only one way to find out.” He smiled. Let’s see if we can heave you into her, shall we?”
“It’s going to be a tight squeeze.” I moaned.
When we arrived back at the office, Noah pulled up next to where my car was parked.
“That was nice. Better we keep this between us.” He grinned. “I can’t afford to take Betty in accounts to dinner. She won’t fit into my car.”
We laughed, and I agreed to hold my silence.
“Good night, Noah. Thank you for a delicious meal.”
“Good night, Brooke.”
There was a brief moment of uncomfortable silence when I thought maybe, just maybe, he would kiss me. But that was ridiculous, so I snapped out of my teenage dream and got out of the Jag. Noah waited until I was safely in my Mini, then followed me out of the garage. We parted ways, he to his home, and I to mine.
Chapter 9
NOAH
Brooke was a breath of fresh air. She displayed none of the annoying traits of the women I’d been exposed to. She wasn’t vain, although she had plenty of reason to be. She was a great conversationalist, her general knowledge impressive, and she didn’t throw herself at me. I tried my best to impress her, even flirted a bit, but my attempts rolled right off her. I wanted so badly to kiss her after dinner, but as me ole Dad used to say, ‘Don’t shit where you eat, my son’—which, loosely translated meant, don’t get into office romance. I’d keep my testosterone in check.
My phone was set on mute throughout dinner. When I looked at it, I saw I had a few missed calls. I decided all but one could wait until the morning. I called Frank back.
“Good news,” he said as he answered the call.