Take Me, Sir: Billionaire's Sub Book 3

by M. S. Parker

  “I’m sorry.”

  The short, succinct phrase caught me off guard, and I looked up to see him staring off at absolutely nothing. He looked…lost.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d seen that expression on a man’s – or woman’s – face here in my office. Sadly, people either came in here furious or hurt, or both. I couldn't think of anybody who ever came in looking for a divorce smiling over it. It didn't get to me. Usually. This was business for me, after all. While I’d gone into law for the money, there were times when I actually enjoyed my job. Especially when somebody was married to a real sleaze and I was able to help them get away.

  When I was able to help somebody decent keep from getting screwed over, I liked that too. I had a feeling that would be the case with Paxton Gorham when it came time. His wife would push hard. I still didn’t have all the information, but I’d bet my new Jimmy Choos that he was the only reason she was even still singing. If he didn’t keep her on as his backup singer, would anybody else ever give her a chance? She’d look at him as her meal ticket, even if it was unconsciously.

  Drug addicts were notorious users. It might even be an unconscious behavior, but it was a deeply ingrained one, and until it was acknowledged and addressed, it would continue.

  My job was going to be all about making sure she didn’t have a chance to do any more harm than she already had.

  Reaching out to touch his shoulder, I gave him a reassuring smile.

  I’d done this dozens of times.

  This time, my reassuring, comforting smile fell flat.

  Tension sparked between us.

  Slowly, he shifted his gaze my way, his eyes lingering first on my hand and then coming up to meet mine.

  My breath hitched in my chest and I pulled back, my fingers curling into my palm, as if to hold in the memory of the heat that had arced between us. Wow…

  I wondered if he’d felt it.

  He stood up, moving away on jerky strides.

  For some reason, it felt like a rejection – like a blow. Of course, he was a hot musician who had hundreds of groupies hanging all over him. Gorgeous eighteen year olds who'd drop to their knees in a second. Blood rushed to my face as I stared back down at the notes I’d made.

  “What about my daughter? Should I be able to get full custody?”

  He was staring outside. I didn't think it was my imagination that he was taking deliberate care to avoid looking at me. I hadn't meant for the touch to be anything but professional.

  I cleared my throat and gave myself a moment to take a sip from the coffee on the table. “Well…” Drawing the word out, I deliberated on the answer. “The first thing we’d have to do is provide proof that it’s in Carter’s best interest not to be with her mother.”

  “She was shoved into a closet so a couple of her mother’s friends could screw on her bed while Brinke was passed out in the bathroom,” he said stiffly. “I’m pretty sure that Brinke’s forgotten what Carter’s best interests are.”

  “I can see that,” I assured him. “But right now, it’s your word against hers.”

  His shoulders rose up and down on a heavy breath, and I watched as he leaned forward, bracing his hands on the polished wooden window sill. I looked down at my notes again, double-checking what I had. He’d given me his contact information, but only after telling me repeatedly that he didn’t want me contacting him, not at home and not on his cell. I’d assured him I wouldn’t. The information he’d given me was for a place in Upper Manhattan. I didn't know why he’d come looking for an attorney over in Queens, but maybe he’d wanted to avoid having Brinke see him or having anybody else run into him while he was here.

  Moments passed as he continued to stare outside.

  “How would you go about getting this…proof?” he asked softly.

  “Same way it’s always gathered.” I shrugged, even though he wasn’t looking at me. “We hire private investigators. That cost is passed on to you, of course.”

  “I’m not worried about how much this will cost.” He muttered again under his breath and swore quietly. “Son of a bitch.” Finally, he turned and looked at me. “Okay. I need to think about all of this. If I decide to go through with it, I’ll give you a call. Thanks for the time.”

  “No problem.” Feeling strangely awkward, I rose from the couch and moved forward, offering my hand. “I’m sorry about everything you’re going through, Mr. Gorham.”

  He stared at my hand for a long moment and then slowly reached out.

  He didn’t shake, though. He just held my hand, his fingers warm and strong around mine.

  After he released me, he left without saying a word.

  Once he was gone, I turned around and pressed my back to the door, staring up at the ceiling.

  It felt empty in there without him.

  But I was damn glad he was gone.

  He was…intense.

  Too intense, especially considering I was supposed to be looking at him as a client.

  Chapter Six

  Paxton

  “Why did she have to be a redhead?”

  My driver acted as though he hadn’t heard a word, continuing to handle the streets of New York City like a pro. I sat in the backseat, trying not to think about the very sexy Leslie Calvin. It was hard, though. I hadn’t had that sort of interest in a woman in a while.

  I sure as hell hadn’t had that kind of interest in my wife.

  The wedding ring on my hand felt heavier than normal and I looked down, thought about taking it off.

  But I didn’t.

  Not yet.

  It wasn’t because I wasn’t ready to. I was. I already knew it was over. A part of me had known this was coming since before we’d left California, even though I’d told Brinke we were coming to New York for a fresh start.

  There was just another part of me that wanted to talk to my wife first, explain. Maybe that part of me was still hoping she’d want to fight this out, fight for us. But I’d been doing that for the past seven years, ever since we’d found out we were having a baby. If Brinke didn’t care enough about us, about our daughter, about our family to change how she was living by now, then she never would. For Brinke Maynard, she was number one and that wouldn’t change.

  Still, I didn’t take the ring off. Not even as it gained weight on my hand as I found myself thinking about that pretty lawyer’s sinful mouth, wondering how she’d taste, how she’d moan.

  “We’re here, Mr. Gorham.”

  I looked up to see a doorman coming toward the car. “Thanks, Billy. I’ll be back in a few.”

  “Yes, sir. I sent a message to Mr. Marley’s staff. He knows we’re here.”

  “Good. Thanks.” I climbed out, nodding at the man who’d gotten the door. Even after years of that sort of thing, I still wasn’t used to it, but I’d gotten tired of telling people it wasn’t necessary. Besides, I was too busy dealing, and trying to lay out a battle plan for the night, to worry about doors and shit.

  I hadn’t seen Brinke since Saturday. Hadn't talked to her since then either. I needed time to think, and she didn't make that possible.

  Both Carter and I had spent the past two nights at the Waldorf and today, while I talked to the attorney, Carter had spent the day with my best friend and his kids. Decker and his wife, LaToya, were the picture of everything I’d wanted for Brinke and me. They were so fucking happy together, it was almost sickening, but I loved the two of them so much, I couldn’t hate them for having what I didn’t. I might've been petty enough to be jealous, but I could never hate them. They were both just so damn good.

  I hadn’t even cleared the door when a couple of high-pitched squeals reached my ear. “Uncle Pax!”

  I braced myself for the twin dervishes and just in time. The four -year-olds always managed to catch me in tender places, and I’d finally learned to protect myself – and my balls – from their unintentional head-butts. Catching each of them in one arm, I swung them up and around before putting them down. “Did you wear Car
ter out?”

  “Don’t take her away!” they shouted in unison.

  “I have to. We gotta go home and see her mama.” I kissed Pierce, then Pike, on their equally sticky cheeks, and then grinned up at Decker. “You don’t deserve these two, you know. Let me have them. I’ll bring them back when they’re old enough to teach how to play guitar.”

  “I already play,” Pike said. No, wait. It wasn’t Pike. It was Pierce.

  “I don’t wanna play guitar. I’m gonna play drums! And sing, like you! And Carter’s gonna sing with me and be my girlfriend!” Pierce half-shouted.

  “Yuck!” Pike made a face.

  “She can’t be your girlfriend,” Decker announced. He had my daughter sitting on his shoulders and she was smiling so wide, it was a wonder her face didn’t split. “Carter already told me she loved me the best.”

  “But you’re Mommy’s boyfriend.”

  “Carter can’t have boyfriends yet. Not until she’s thirty,” I informed them. They didn't have to know that I was only half-kidding.

  I put the boys down and went over to Decker. Holding out my hands, I beckoned for Carter. She came to me and curled her thin arms around my neck. My heart clutched in the weirdest damn way. After six years, I’d have thought I’d be used to it, but then again, after six years, I’d also have thought I’d be used to the fact that I would never get used to the overwhelming love I felt for this child. No matter what hell Brinke put me through, I could never regret my relationship with her, all because of the girl in my arms.

  “How’s my girl?”

  “I’m good, Daddy. Are we going home today?”

  “You bet.” I nuzzled her neck and she laughed as the scruff I hadn't gotten around to shaving tickled her neck and cheek.

  “You need to shave.” She wrinkled her nose up at me, looking so much like her mother that it made my heart hurt.

  “You need a bath,” I replied. She had marker on her cheek and all over her hands. “What did you all do, attack a rainbow?”

  “No. We colored.” She shrugged and settled her head against my shoulder. “I’m hungry. Can we get dinner?”

  “You bet.” Over her head, I met Decker’s eyes. “See you in the morning.”

  “You got it. Call me later.”

  I just gave him a nod. He was the only one who knew where I’d gone that day, and I knew he wanted to know what happened. I wasn’t sure yet what I was going to tell him.

  A lot of that depended on Brinke, though, and what happened when I got home.

  As we rode the elevator up to the penthouse, Carter squeezed my hand and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Do you think Alex is back yet? When is she going to be back, Daddy?”

  Squeezing her hand back in return, I shrugged. “She’s coming back tonight. You talked to her yesterday, remember?”

  Alex Howell was Carter’s nanny. She had been taking care of Carter practically since we’d brought her home, including going on tour with us and everything else. She’d even been willing to move across the country when we left California. She loved Carter like she was her own.

  I'd bought the apartment one floor below and spent a fucking fortune making an entrance between her room and Carter’s. I wanted Alex to have access to Carter and vice versa. Sometimes Carter’s nightmares were horrible, and Alex was the one who handled them the best if I wasn’t around. But Alex didn’t need to be around to listen to Brinke’s vitriol, either.

  Plus, I liked my privacy. So did Alex, when she wasn’t working – which was a grand total of one whole day a week. She'd assured me that was all she needed and I was grateful for it. I didn't know how I'd have survived without her.

  A month ago, her mother had a stroke and went into a coma. Alex was an only child, and her father had died a few years back, so we'd given her all the time she'd needed to take care of her mom. Two weeks ago, her mother passed away and we'd told Alex to take all the time she needed.

  I didn't begrudge her the time, but man, I missed having her around. When Alex was there, I worried far less about Carter. Brinke had become more and more flighty since we'd moved to the East Coast, staying back at the penthouse more often than not, coming into the studio maybe one or two days a week. This past month, without Alex around, I worried so much about our daughter that I didn't get much work done. If Brinke came with us, I had Carter go to Decker’s place after summer school, and that took care of a lot of problems.

  Fucking mess that having her be with her mom was more of a problem than anything else.

  The elevator door slid open and right away, I knew one thing – Alex wasn’t back yet. Music was blasting so loud, I could hear it from where I stood. Half the time, I felt like I was paying Alex to take care of two people – my wife and my daughter. I knew if I went through with the divorce that Alex would go with Carter – and there was no way in hell I was going to let Brinke get custody.

  I pasted a smile on my face and swung Carter up into my arms.

  “Come on. Let’s go see Mommy.”

  Carter cuddled in closer and curled her arms around my neck.

  The front door wasn’t locked and for a few seconds, nobody noticed as I stood there, looking from one face to another. None of them looked familiar and I had to give the building security credit – it didn’t look like they’d admitted anybody who’d been here on Saturday. Unfortunately, Brinke was great at making new friends.

  Once this mess was dealt with, I’d tell security that nobody was allowed up unless I specifically cleared them. I could already picture the meltdown Brinke would have, but I was done with her shit.

  Finally, somebody noticed us and the music abruptly went silent.

  Putting Carter down, I patted her on the rump and said, “Why don’t you take your bag on up and put your stuff away? Take your time, okay? I need to talk to Mom and her friends.”

  “Okay, Daddy.” Carter shot a quick look at her mother, half hopeful, half in dread.

  Brinke was too busy staring into her glass to notice.

  Closing a hand into a fist, I watched Carter’s thin shoulders slump at her mother’s obvious lack of interest. It broke my heart that after all the shit Brinke had put Carter through, she still wanted her mom's love. She turned toward the stairs and trudged up them, pulling a pair of ear buds out of her pocket.

  Smart move, baby doll, I thought. Smart move.

  “Heya, Pax!”

  The overly cheerful greeting came from the man who’d been sitting way too close to Brinke when I came in. He moved away as soon as he'd seen me, and now he practically sat on the opposite end of the couch.

  When I looked at him, he got up, coming toward me with a hand outstretched. “How ya doin’, man?”

  I stared at his hand for a long moment. Was he fucking kidding me?

  Slowly, he lowered it, a nervous laugh escaping him.

  As he backed away, I looked from him to everybody else in the room. “All of you…get out,” I said grimly. “Do it now and do yourself a favor. Don’t try to come back.”

  “You can’t do that,” Brinke snapped. “This is my home too.”

  “My name is on the paperwork,” I reminded her. “Remind yourself why that is.”

  Her face flushed, but she didn’t say anything. As people began to trail out, she emptied the rest of her glass and rose from the couch to storm into the kitchen, grumbling under her breath.

  Once she came back into the living room, I looked around. “Is everybody gone?”

  “I don’t see anybody else.” She looked around obnoxiously. “Do you?”

  “Your friends don’t always respect boundaries, Brinke.” Without giving her a chance to ask what I meant, I said, “You didn't say hi to your daughter.”

  Brinke’s eyes slid toward the stairs. Jerking her shoulders in a shrug, she said, “I'm going to. I'm getting ready to go right on up there and talk to her. Where in the hell have you two been all weekend anyway?”

  “Funny that you should ask that. The question you really ne
ed to be asking is where did I find her Saturday night.” Renewed rage began to beat inside me and I folded my arms, reminded myself that losing it now wasn’t going to do anybody any good. “Kind of funny you’re waiting until now to ask where we had taken off to – and you haven’t even asked why. Care to explain that?”

  “Please.” She drained her drink – again.

  This time, when she went into the kitchen, her steps more than a little unsteady, I followed.

  “I already know why you took off,” Brinke said. “You came home and found out that I was having a party and you got all uptight about it. I swear, ever since we had her, you forgot what it’s like to have any fun.”

  Her hand shook as she splashed a liberal amount of vodka into her glass, then added some cranberry juice. There was more alcohol than juice, and I tried to recall if that bottle had been full the last time I’d seen it. Or was it a new bottle altogether?

  I had no idea.

  She turned back to face me, glaring at me with a mix of rage and misery and I found myself trying to find the woman I’d fallen in love with in the face of the one staring back at me.

  I couldn’t. It was like no sign of her existed.

  If she ever had at all.

  She lifted the glass to her lips and drained half of it. She might have emptied it if I hadn’t crossed to her and caught her wrist, forcing the glass down.

  “Fuck, Brinke. Cut back already,” I said, aggravated. “I don’t want to have to take you to the hospital again.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do!” she shouted.

  “I’m…shit, is it that hard for you to let somebody be worried about you?” I wrestled the glass away and dumped it. Then, before she could stop me, I upended the vodka bottle too.

  Brinke came at me, slamming her fists into my chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” She hit me again and I caught both wrists. “If I want a fucking drink, I can have one!”

  “And if you want to get so strung out, you lose consciousness while our little girl is hiding in a closet and strangers are fucking on her bed, you going to do that again too?” I demanded, forcing myself to keep my voice low. Carter might be listening to music, but I refused to let her hear me shout at her mother.