Dirty Rich One Night Stand: a sexy standalone novel

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Dirty Rich One Night Stand: a sexy standalone novel Page 25

by Lisa Renee Jones


  “This is Cat, Lauren. The queen of putting up walls and I won’t be able to do anything to pull them back down.”

  “If she puts a wall up she was never yours. If she doesn’t, you know it’s real. And in a way this a gift. We all need to know it’s real.” Her line beeps. “That’s probably her. You two will get through this.” She disconnects and I wish like hell I had something to hit.

  The minute Lauren opens the door, I know she knows. “He called you.”

  “Yes.” She backs up and I enter the house, and walk to the giant chair by the couch and sit down on the ottoman.

  She joins me as she sits on the couch. “How are you?”

  “How am I?” I laugh without humor. “I drank champagne to celebrate my press release, after which my brother called and told me Reese was suing my family. This was right before Reid told me to fuck off. Next up. Reese told me he loves me right before we said goodbye forever, for all I know. So how am I? I’m doing just peachy.”

  “You and Reese will get through this. This mess sucks, but you will get through it.”

  “You know the facts, I assume. Are we overreacting?”

  “No you aren’t overreacting. This is a monstrous problem.”

  “We can’t be together right now, can we?”

  “That’s a potential challenge. Do you think your family will use you against Reese at Reese’s expense?”

  “Yes. In some dark, underground, dirty way, they will lash out at him and I don’t know how to stop that from happening.”

  “I talked this through with Reese, but let’s you and I try, too.”

  For two full hours, we talk and talk, and talk some more, until there is nowhere else to go. “I think this will end us,” I say, voicing my biggest fear.

  “Not if you love each other.”

  “You don’t know how brutal my family is. They will make Reese hate me and I won’t be able to stop it.”

  “You don’t give Reese credit if you believe that.”

  “He’s brilliant. You’re right. I know. But so is my father.”

  “Reese is younger, more agile in every way, and he’s in love. And love is powerful. While you are worrying about Reese, do you know what Reese is worried about?”

  “What?”

  “Your walls. That while you two are apart, you’ll find a way to shut him out.”

  “I won’t. Not Reese. I want him to know that. Tell him I said that.”

  “I can’t, Cat. Because for two years, all you have done is shut everyone out, even me. Julie is my best friend. You are as close to that as someone can be without being that because you go months without even calling me.”

  “I know. I just—sometimes I deal with being alone by being alone.”

  “But you’re not alone unless you make yourself alone,” Lauren says.

  “My family shuts me out. I don’t shut them out.”

  “Right. And you shut me out. Don’t do that to Reese. Don’t do that to me anymore.”

  “I won’t,” I say. “I don’t want to. I might need you to shake me here or there. Old habits and all.”

  “Do I have permission to shake you up if needed?”

  “Yes, times one thousand.”

  “Good. I will.”

  I stand up. “I need to go get my things from his apartment. I have to deal with this and get home before I melt down.”

  “Buy a stock of Ben and Jerry’s. I’ll be by to see you, and it helps anyway. Eat it. And I’ll bring Julie with me. She’s a good friend, Cat, and good friends get us through bad times.”

  I hug her and I leave.

  Thirty minutes later, I stand in my apartment—no, Reese’s apartment. I start packing up my things, but I decide, no. I’ll take only what I have to take. I’ll be back and soon, I hope. I fill a bag and then sit down on the chair where we often watch the sunset, and where we often just sit and talk. I’m going to miss this spot with him so much. My eyes prickle and I stand up before I melt down. My gaze goes to my nightstand where I have a pad and a pen. I walk to it and sit down, and on a blank page I write: I wish I was right HERE right NOW in huge letters. I tear off the page and set it on my pillow.

  I then write him a note:

  Reese,

  There is no wall that could survive the force of how much I have fallen in love with you. My family is vicious. They will find a way to strip your license if they can. Don’t risk it. Don’t call. Phone records can be traced.

  I left most of my things because I am coming back.

  Love, Cat

  The first night apart…

  I walk into my apartment and it is silent, empty, cold. Cat is gone. My phone rings and it’s my mother. Cat and I didn’t even talk about what to tell her. I answer the line and walk to the bar, and pour a stout drink, as I begin telling her everything.

  “I don’t even know what to say,” she breathes out. “Yes, I do. She really loves you or she’d still be there, as backwards as that sounds. She’s worried about protecting you. She should be and you’re worried about—”

  “Losing her.”

  “You won’t. She loves you. That is so obvious. The kind of love a mother wants for all of her children.” She laughs bitterly. “And herself. Go solve this. You can. Focus. Do. Get your woman back.”

  When we end that call, I’m reminded of how strong my mother is apart from my father, just not with him. Cat is strong with or without me. I need her to be strong without me now, and keep that damn wall down. I refill my glass before heading up the stairs. I walk into the bedroom and spot the note on her pillow. Adrenaline surges through me and I down the whiskey before I pick up it up to read: I wish I was right HERE right NOW. “Me too, sweetheart,” I murmur, before lifting the second piece of paper. I sit down and read it, emotions punching through me.

  She’s coming back. I hope like fuck she still says that when this is over.

  I consider buying disposable phones and sending her one. We could talk, but she will ask questions and worry about every move I make. I have to do what I have to do to ensure her family doesn’t ruin me and us. I need a level head, not an emotional one.

  With my MacBook in my lap, I sit on my bed among the pink pillows, under the pink comforter that used to feel like my bed. It doesn’t anymore. I consider going to my family but if I do, I risk exposing my personal feelings for Reese. I could put a target on his back or at least paint it a little larger.

  No.

  I can’t go to my family. I can’t go to Reese. I just have to lay here in pink frilly everything and do nothing. An idea hits me. I don’t have to stop talking to Reese. I can send him a message in every column I write. One line. Something small. I stare at the column I’ve just completed, which is a piece about a recent police shooting. I look at the final few lines of my closing and rework them.

  In a world where the lines between peace and war seem to have fallen, I suggest that we don’t seek to widen those lines. We look to erase all that divides us. And we can’t do that by blaming each other. We can’t do that by letting the press tell our story. We the people must come together and let no one else tell our story. We must tell our own story. Until tomorrow —Cat

  It’s not perfect, but hopefully he reads between the lines. I’m not going to put a wall between us. Not now. Not ever.

  Day two apart…

  I start my day reading Cat’s column and the message inside it for me: We tell our own story. In other words, her family doesn’t get to control us. She’s right. And the Maxwells will soon find that out.

  I call Cat’s publisher as my first order of business. The agreement to release and promote this book after this conflict ends, is easy to resolve, especially when I agree to consult on a second book on Kelli Ward. Knowing they offered Cat a smaller fee for a second book, I negotiate Kelli’s book outside that contract and call Liz.

  “You’re better at this than me,” she says. “I’ll call Cat.”

  “Tell her to tell her family the book is on hold inde
finitely. That’s important.”

  “Understood.”

  Next, I call Kent to my office and tell him everything. “How serious are you about this woman?”

  I open my desk and set the Tiffany’s bag on the desk. “You? Married?” he gapes.

  “Me. Married.”

  “Okay then. I don’t know you anymore, but I’m going to help you help us.”

  Hours later, Kent and I put our plan into action. I sit with Casey and Maria at the conference table. “I’m recording this for all of our protection,” I state. “Maria will read the legal disclosures.”

  “Understood,” Casey states.

  Maria proceeds and when she’s done, Kent begins. “When I filed the lawsuit on your behalf, I did not disclose the names of the parties I filed that lawsuit against to Reese.”

  “In other words,” I say. “I had no idea that there was a conflict of interest between me and your case.”

  Casey sits up straighter. “What conflict?”

  “I was dating a woman who is the daughter, sister, and niece of three parties named.”

  “Holy shit,” he says. “So you’re dropping me.”

  “No,” I say. “I’m giving you the option to stay or go, but before you make that decision, I need to make you aware of all the facts. Cat Maxwell and I have stopped seeing each other until this is over. However, there was a press release yesterday that made a book deal public. I’m consulting on her true crime about the Ward case. Those interviews are complete and the release and press will be put off until after this conflict is resolved. The book is on hold. Additionally, Cat is estranged from her family anyway, and as far as I’m concerned, they treat Cat like shit. They deserve to be fucked to hell and back again.

  “Then why stop seeing her?” Casey asks. “If you hate them, that’s in my best interest. I mean, if I was an excuse—”

  “No. Cat is not going away. I need you to know that too. This break is to get us through this case. I’ve already gone after her family. They will come after me no matter what. I have to deal with them. What you need to know is that I’m the best at what I do.”

  “I already know that, man,” Casey says. “I’m lucky as hell to have you as a friend on this case.”

  “You can go elsewhere, but here’s the bottom line. If they screw up and don’t get you off, I’m recording you right now being told that this is your decision. The outcome of going elsewhere is your decision. I’m also telling you that I will work one hundred percent for you. I can’t promise you I will get you off, but nothing I’ve told you will be a factor, and to stay on this case, I need you to sign an agreement that you will not sue me or this firm over the outcome. The language will be lengthy and it will include full disclosure of everything I just told you.”

  “Done,” he says. “I trust you. How can I not trust you? You left your woman for me.”

  “I didn’t leave Cat. She left me because she’s that ethical.”

  An hour later, he’s shaking my hand. “Don’t lose her over this.”

  “I won’t,” I say and I mean it.

  Since my family won’t take my calls, I march into the lobby of their offices, and I don’t bother to ask for entry. I walk right past the receptionist and down the hall.

  “Cat,” my father’s secretary, Nancy, says. Nancy is blonde and gorgeous, of course. She’s probably fucking my father. That’s his thing. He, like Mitch, likes his secretaries. I walk right past her too and enter the office, opening the door to find my brothers present.

  “Oh good. A Maxwell family reunion.” I shut the door. “Well, except for the youngest, who was smart enough to leave the city. I’d call him, but why bring him into this hell. Let him lead a happy life.”

  My father, who I haven’t seen in months, looks good, not sick at all. His grey hair is thick, his complexion warm. His weight healthy as always. My brothers just look like assholes, one on either side of his desk. Twin assholes. “I told Reese Summer that we had a conflict. He immediately called my publisher and asked to back out of the consulting agreement thanks to that conflict of interest. For those of you who think my career sucks, that’s half a million dollars. Yes. More than my asshole brothers are probably making in a year with their fucking Harvard law degrees. Thank you. I love you all, too.”

  “He’s suing us, Cat,” Reid says.

  “His partner is suing you.”

  “Semantics,” my father says.

  “Well, now you can duke it out with him. He’s done with me and my book. I watched him in court. I hope you will all call me before you zip up those orange suits and at least say goodbye.”

  I turn and walk out of the office and when I reach the elevator and punch the button, it’s with relief that it opens. I put on a show in there, but I felt every angry word. I step into the elevator and Gabe joins me just before we’re shut inside.

  “A half million dollars.”

  “Yes. I sold a lot of books with the last release and this time I had Reese on board. But it’s done now. I move on.”

  “Put it off until this is over.”

  “Why?” I demand, and then grind through harsh words I don’t want to speak. “We both know if you can ruin Reese Summer, you will. He’ll be worth nothing to me.”

  “It might not end that way.”

  And there it is. The confirmation. They are going after him, but at least I’ve been assured I’m not leverage.

  “But it might and it doesn’t matter. I’m already talking to my publisher about another option with the prosecutor, though I hate that prick almost as much as I hate you right now.”

  He reaches into his jacket and hands me the letter from our mother. “I’ve been carrying it around. I was going to bring it by, but I keep reading the damn thing. I’m on team Cat just like Mom. And I’m not being sued. I didn’t fuck up and get involved. For the record, I don’t think Dad knew what was going on either.”

  “Reid?”

  “He says he didn’t. I’m not sure. Uncle Rudolf. He knew. He’s the root of all of this.” The elevator dings and he adds, “Team Cat.”

  I don’t reply. Gabe and I have a big wall to climb. The one my family put between me and Reese. I exit the car and I try to figure out how to tell Reese what is going on. I don’t want to put anyone in the middle. That means my column.

  Hours later, I’m back in my pink-covered bed without Reese, writing my column. I find a case that fits perfectly. A woman accused of murder, but ultimately the uncle is now being questioned. I walk my audience through how the woman became the accused. In the end, I close simply: The uncle has yet to be charged, but I predict that that tide will turn, and he will soon be the defendant in a court case we will follow here with interest. Until tomorrow —Cat.

  The message is there. Look at my uncle, who isn’t my uncle at all, and who my mother never liked. Now I know why. He’s trouble.

  Day three apart…

  I start my morning at my coffee pot reading Cat’s column and I understand the message. Her uncle is trouble.

  Day fourteen apart…

  I am miserable, sitting in my overstuffed chair by my fireplace, with Ben and Jerry’s ice cream next to me after eating two last night while Lauren and Julie hung out here. I’m going to be buying new clothes if I keep this up and I don’t seem to care. Cherry Garcia, and my MacBook, are my friends. I love them. I need them. I worship them. Not really, but ice cream is a known substitute for sex per me, the expert, who is not having sex right now after having had the best sex of her life.

  My cellphone rings and I grab it, hopeful that it’s Reese and this is over, but it’s not. It’s his mother. I answer with a reprimand. “I told you that you can’t call. It connects me to Reese.”

  “I know,” she says. “But Reese told me he can’t talk to me right now. He has shut himself off. He’s completely focused on whatever he is doing.”

  “He’s got a lot of plates in the air to juggle.”

  “I know. Are you okay?”

 
“No, but I will be when this is over. You can’t call again.”

  “I know, but he needs you. I feel it.”

  “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

  “We will never have family get-togethers with your family. Just so we’re clear. Take care, honey.” She hangs up and I grab the remote to my fireplace and turn it on high. It’s cold and I’m chilled to the bone, which could be the ice cream, or maybe it’s all about my shitty family.

  I start typing my column, which features a married couple, and a man who died saving his wife’s life only to have the family file a lawsuit against her for wrongful death. It’s an unheard of insane, first of its kind, case. My closing statement reads: What would you do for the one you love? What would you give up? This man sacrificed everything for his woman and not only did she lose the love of her life, she was tortured by his family, and this is torture. I hope they read this. I hope they can reach inside themselves and see that the pain they cause this woman doesn’t bring their family member back. It drives him deeper into his grave while the woman he loves, bleeds.

  That closing wasn’t for Reese. It was for my fucked up family, who won’t even read it and doesn’t even know how much Reese means to me. If they did, they’d make him bleed.

  Day twenty-four apart—Thanksgiving Day…

  I retreat to the kitchen of Lauren’s busy house, leaving her and Julie, a Marilyn Monroe look-a-like who I am coming to really like, and a cluster of Walker brothers and staff that overwhelm the place. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and find the table empty. I claim a seat and set my phone on the table. It rings with my youngest brother, Daniel’s, number.

  “Hey, Cat.”

  “Hey,” I say. “Happy Turkey Day.”

  “Happy Turkey Day. How are you?”

  Considering I called him three weeks ago and told him everything about Reese, and the Maxwell family drama, we both know he’s not asking a generic question. “The same,” I say.

  “No news at all?”

  “Nothing. Are you with your girlfriend?”

  “Yes. Heading to her family outing.”

  My line beeps and the caller ID shows Gabe. “Go have fun. Gabe is calling, believe it or not.”

 

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