Lawfully Screwed (Lawful Affair)

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Lawfully Screwed (Lawful Affair) Page 3

by Victoria Bright


  The end of his sentence rolled off of his tongue as if it were bitter for him to say, as if it was repulsive to say that his son was a sex addict. His face twisted in disgust briefly before he regained his composure. “It’s for the best.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Dad, I’m getting better. I know how to control myself now.”

  “Do you?” He raised a brow. “Is that why a young lady called the office this morning threatening to sue you for sexual harassment?”

  My brows furrowed in confusion as my heart raced a little in my chest. Oh shit. This couldn’t be about the gym incident, could it? I thought I’d covered my tracks by canceling my membership and ensuring her that she wouldn’t see me again.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, feigning ignorance. My father walked back around to the front of my desk and placed his hands on the top of it.

  “You know damn well what I’m talking about, Mason Donovan Carter. Exposing yourself and ejaculating in front of a woman in a sauna? Is that what I raised you to do?”

  I tightened my jaw, unable to make eye contact with him. “It has nothing to do with how you or mom raised me. I just—”

  “What will your mother think? Have you been going to the meetings like you told us you have?”

  “Yes!” I almost yelled, my emotions getting the best of me. I mean I had been going, just not as consistently as my family probably thought I was. I took a deep breath to calm myself. “This isn’t going to fix itself overnight. I’m doing the best I can right now.” My breaths were shaky as I fought against my anger. My father narrowed his eyes at me.

  “Then try harder. Once you get my law firm in the middle of your mess, then it becomes my problem. Get yourself together, Mason. I will let you go if I have to in order to save this firm. I worked my ass off to build the reputation of this firm to what it is, and I’ll be damned if I let your nonsense ruin it,” he stated, his voice low. “Are we clear?”

  I stared at him, realizing that maybe I didn’t have the support I thought I did when I finally admitted to my family that I had an addiction. Was this how all families treated the addicts they were related to? I ground my teeth and clasped my hands together to keep them from trembling.

  “Crystal,” I finally mumbled. My father stood up straight and smoothed his hands over his suit jacket.

  “Good. I’ll let you get to work,” he said and turned to walked out of my office, suddenly pausing. “Oh, and before I forget.” He pulled an envelope from his pocket and took out a sheet of paper that was inside. “Those group meetings are now mandatory. You’re to get this signed and dated every time you go and I’m to see it every two weeks to confirm that you’re going.”

  “Are you serious right now?” I shrieked as he placed the paper in front of me.

  “As a heart attack. Consider this as probation. If you break your probation, as in not going to these meetings, I’ll have to terminate you.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I muttered.

  “Glad you understand,” he replied and finally left my office. I stared at the paper in front of me. So this was what it came down to. I’d seriously thought I’d fixed the problem by canceling my membership so that she’d never have to see me again, but I was so wrong. Not only was my dad angry, my job at the family law firm was now in jeopardy. I’d fucked up big time.

  A knock on the door brought me out of my musings. “It’s open,” I called out, taking the paper and stuffing it in my desk drawer. Aaron walked in with a big grin on his face, but it faded when he saw me.

  “Is this a bad time?” he asked, studying me carefully.

  I shook my head. “You’re fine. What’s up?”

  “I should be asking you that. What’s going on?”

  I fought the urge to grind my teeth and just shook my head. “Nothing. So, about the case—”

  “Mason,” Aaron interrupted. “I know when something’s up. Are you pissed about your new assistant?”

  “No, Aaron. I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just talk about what you came in here for, which I’m assuming is about the case,” I snapped. Aaron raised an eyebrow at me but didn’t say a word. I rubbed my forehead with a sigh. “Sorry. I just don’t want to talk about it right now. It’s not a big deal anyway. Anyway, you wanted to talk about the case?”

  “Yeah,” he said slowly, taking a seat in the chair across from my desk. We went over notes and strategies to present to our client during our next meeting, but I didn’t miss the way Aaron studied me throughout the conversation. It wasn’t like I could talk to him about it. He wasn’t that much different than anyone else with their judging tones and clear disappointment. But unlike my father, Aaron still had my back despite his opinions. Anytime he said anything to me about my addiction, it was out of worry and concern for a friend. When my father did it, it was because he thought I was a fuck up and was ashamed of me. I pushed the negative thoughts out of my head and tried to focus.

  “So, for now, I guess we’ll wait to hear back from Mrs. Kent’s lawyer about the custody arrangement. Once we have that, we’ll set the meeting with Mr. Kent to see how he’d like to go about that,” I said.

  He nodded. “Sounds good. Well, if anything new develops, you know where to find me.”

  “Yeah,” I said idly, staring at my blank computer screen. Aaron stood and walked toward the door, pausing when he got to the doorway.

  “Mase, if you need anyone to talk to…I’m here.”

  “Thanks,” I said, not bothering to make eye contact.

  “Where is the fax machine?” Olga suddenly boomed from the doorway, startling me.

  “Um,” I started. She stood there with wild eyes and her lips in a tight line. “It’s in the paper room down the hall, fourth door on your left,” I said. She let out what sounded like a humph and turned on her heels and left. I shuddered. My father definitely didn’t have to worry about me getting into any trouble at work with an assistant like that.

  My phone suddenly started vibrating in my desk drawer. I opened the drawer to see the screen light up with multiple text messages from Kayla.

  Kayla: YOU FUCKING LOSER!

  Kayla: LOSE MY NUMBER YOU FUCKING BASTARD

  Kayla: I CAN’T BELIEVE I WASTED TIME ON YOU. FUCK YOU!

  What in the actual fuck was happening today? What did I manage to do from the time I video chatted her earlier to now? I wasn’t too concerned; it wasn’t like she was my woman for me to give a damn in the first place. The firm’s secretary, Sabrina, knocked on my doorframe with a blond-haired man standing next to her.

  “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Carter, but a potential client is here and says it’s urgent that he speak with you specifically.”

  The man held his hand up apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t make an appointment, but this is kind of urgent.”

  I stuffed my phone in my pocket and nodded. I’d have to deal with Kayla later. “It’s fine, come on in,” I said and nodded to Sabrina. “Thanks, Sabrina.”

  “It’s no trouble at all, sir,” she said with a sweet smile before leaving. The man sat across from me with a sigh.

  “If you aren’t already married, don’t do it,” he joked. I gave him a small smile and shook my computer mouse to bring my computer to life.

  “How can I help you, Mr…”

  “Wilde. Joseph Wilde,” he stated, extending his hand. I shook it firmly with a nod of my head.

  “Okay, Mr. Wilde. I’m assuming you’re looking to get a divorce?”

  “That’s right. I believe my wife is cheating on me. I just found out that she’d been working as an escort, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the whore didn’t have another relationship on the side as well,” he muttered.

  “I see,” I stated, pulling out my notepad. “Well, let me start by saying that divorce is a big decision. Are you sure there’s no chance for reconciliation between you and your wife?”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “No chance in hell. The sooner she’s out of my life, the better.”

&
nbsp; “Okay. So the law has a euphemism for when the other spouse cheats. We call it ‘irreconcilable differences. Is this the basis on which you’d like to proceed?”

  “Eh.” He shrugged. “Whatever is going to get us divorced. Just sick of her at this point. I don’t even care that she’s an escort really because we haven’t been having sex. I just don’t want to pay her a dime in spousal support,” he said with a shrug.

  I jotted a few notes down from his answer. “Any children?”

  “God, no. Not with her anyway.”

  “So you have children with someone else?”

  “So they say.”

  I cleared my throat, not even wanting to follow up that answer with another question about it. “Do you guys have any marital property that you’ll like to split—”

  “I want her to leave this marriage the way she came in…with nothing. After talking to a few buddies of mine who’ve gone through divorces, they spoke highly of your ability to make that happen,” he exclaimed, leaning back in the chair and crossing his leg over his knee. “Can you make that happen?”

  “I don’t make any promises to my clients, but I’ll do my absolute best. Spousal support isn’t required, and you can argue all sorts of reasons why you shouldn’t have to pay it. We’ll need strong evidence though. Sometimes the judge can be sympathetic to the woman in these kind of cases, especially if they try to pull a victim card.”

  “I’m steps ahead of you. I’ve hired a private investigator to follow her around while she’s out being a whore. Those pictures should be enough to incriminate her, shouldn’t it?”

  “It would be skating a thin line, but I think it could be admissible in court. Once you get the photos, I should have a better idea.”

  “Sounds good. So, what do we do first?”

  “While I understand that you want a divorce, this is a big decision to make. I have a policy that my clients must wait a week before filing so that they can make sure it’s what they really want,” I said. He frowned, but didn’t say anything. “After you come back and tell me this is what you want, we’ll file the petition with the court for marriage dissolution. I mean, have you talked to her about a divorce?”

  “Last month, yeah.”

  “Does she agree with it?”

  “She wants to try counseling to see if we can work things out, but I’m not interested in that. I don’t know how many times you have to tell a woman you don’t want her for her to get the point, am I right?” he said and laughed. I gave him a tight smile and nodded. “Anyway, I just want to have my cards in order in the event that she wants to go to court. She doesn’t have a lawyer just yet, so we’ll see what happens.”

  “Sounds good. After you file, there’s a six-month waiting period before you can be legally divorced. We’ll have to exchange information about income and assets, but it’s fairly standard. We can let her know that you have photos from your private investigator, so that she knows we’re aware of her payments from being an escort,” I said. “Would you like to get started on the paperwork?”

  “Please.”

  I gave his documents to collect his information and an engagement letter to sign. “I also want to know that my fee is $450 an hour. I like to tell people that before getting too deep in the process.”

  “That’s fine,” he said, scribbling his name on the paper. standing to my feet and offering him my hand.

  “Okay then. When you come back to continue discussing your divorce process next week, I’ll have your retainer fee set up for the first phase of our strategy,” I replied. He nodded and pushed the couple of papers back toward me. I stood when he did and shook his outstretched hand, giving it a firm shake.

  “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Carter.”

  “Call me Mason.”

  “Well, Mason, I’ll be in touch,” he said and straightened his sleeves, leaving with a parting nod. I flopped back down in my seat and shook my head. Whoever the woman was, she was better off getting a divorce than continuing to be married to a man who was that much of a dick.

  I turned to my computer with a sigh. “Even more reason not to get married.”

  Chapter 3

  Hooters was packed with bodies when I arrived later that evening, which wasn’t surprising considering that the biggest fight of the year would be airing tonight. This was the last place I wanted to be. Temptation was everywhere; how in the hell could I concentrate on the fight when all I could focus on was getting one of these waitresses out of her shorts and onto my cock? I ground my teeth as a couple of them passed me, wearing their signature uniform of tiny orange shorts and low white Hooters tank tops and carrying trays of wings and drinks, one winking at me as she went by.

  “Mase! Over here!” I heard a voice shout, breaking me out of my trance. My eyes roamed around the restaurant until they settled on Aaron, Max, and Dallas sitting at a table. I maneuvered through the sea of tables and bodies until I reached them, shaking hands with each of them.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, looking around. “Where’s Malcolm?”

  “He’s not here yet. I thought he was coming with you,” Dallas said, reaching for the basket of fried pickles in the center of the table. A waitress approached our table and smiled.

  “Can I get you guys anything else?” she asked as she tossed her thick brown hair over her shoulder. My eyes briefly dropped to her breasts that looked as if they’d pop out of her shirt if she took too deep of a breath.

  “A Bud Light,” I answered.

  She gave me an apologetic shrug and shook her head. “We don’t serve alcohol here, sir. I’m sorry.”

  “Seriously?” I asked and looked to the guys. “What was the point of coming here if there’s no alcohol drink while watching the fight?”

  “To look at tits and ass while watching the fight,” Max joked, slapping hands with Dallas. The waitress giggled and shook her head.

  “Would you like anything else?” she asked, handing me a menu.

  I looked over it briefly before handing it back to her. “Sierra Mist and the beer cheese with pretzels for now, thanks,” I said. I turned my attention back to my friends when she turned and walked away, confused to see them smirking at me. “What?”

  “I heard you had an interesting morning,” Max said. I glared at Aaron.

  “You told them?”

  “Well it was kind of funny,” he said and chuckled.

  “It’s actually not funny, dickhead.”

  “And we heard about your new assistant,” Dallas added.

  “You just don’t know how to keep anything to yourself, huh?” I asked Aaron, who only responded with a sheepish shrug.

  “So, how was your first day with her?” Dallas asked.

  I shrugged and took a sip of my drink that had just arrived. “I mean she’s different than the type I’m used to, but the day went as any other day would go with my assistant,” I answered, glad to have a distraction when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I cringed when I saw Kayla’s name on my screen and hit the ignore button before putting the phone face down on the table. She’d been sending me angry text messages and leaving loud voicemails calling me every name she could think of almost all day. We hadn’t had much interaction before our video call this morning, so I had no idea what her problem was or why she chose now to act like a psycho.

  “Hey, there’s Malcolm,” Aaron said, waving his arm in arm. “Malcolm! Malcolm, over here!” I looked back and saw my twin brother holding his left eye and pulling someone behind him. Even from a distance, I could tell he was pissed about something. I’d seen that look on his face plenty of times growing up, mostly during times I’d fucked up and put him in a shitty situation.

  “Twinny twin, what’s—wait, what the fuck happened to your eye?” I asked, noticing the bruising developing underneath it. He pulled Kayla to stand next to him and gestured toward her.

  “SHE is what fucking happened to my eye,” he spat and turned to Kayla. “I keep trying to tell you I’m his fucking
brother, you deranged bitch—”

  “Whoa, whoa, what the hell is the problem? What are you even doing here, Kayla?” I frowned, looking down at her. She looked between me and Malcolm with wide eyes.

  “I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he was a twin—”

  “You could’ve asked me that,” I snapped. “Did you follow him here or something?”

  “Well, you didn’t give me much of a chance to ask when you’ve ignored every call and text I’ve sent you today!” she screamed. People at the surrounding tables looked our way. “And yeah, I followed him because I thought he was you and I was coming to confront you about seeing him with another woman—”

  “Who was my fucking wife,” Malcolm growled. I ground my teeth and took her by the wrist, leading her to the back of the restaurant near the bathroom.

  “What the hell is going on with you? I can’t have you harassing people I know or people I choose to sleep with. We aren’t together, you know that,” I said through my teeth just as someone came out of the bathroom.

  “You never told me you were a twin. You never tell me anything—”

  “I wasn’t aware that I needed to give you my entire family tree if we were just messing around,” I muttered, leaning against the wall. This wasn’t the first time Kayla had resorted to her crazy antics to get my attention. When I first met her at the grocery store last summer, she seemed like a sweet girl. Sophomore in college, she appeared to have a good head on her shoulders. I’d made it perfectly clear in the beginning that I wasn’t looking for a relationship and she claimed was fine with that, saying that she didn’t need the distraction of a relationship. It wasn’t until after we’d started hooking up a couple of times when I started noticing her possessive ways. She’d tell her friends I was her boyfriend, get upset if I didn’t answer her calls or texts, demand that I see her more, and going into jealous fits if I was too busy to talk to her, thinking I was with another woman. The final straw was when she followed me to a hotel and saw me with an escort. She ended up slashing my tires and got into a scuffle with an escort as she left the hotel. Sex with Kayla was amazing, but I could definitely do without all of her craziness.

 

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