Halton: Vested Interest #6

by Melanie Moreland

  Halton - Vested Interest #6 by Melanie Moreland

  Copyright © 2019 Moreland Books Inc.

  Registration # 1160058

  Ebook ISBN # 978-1-988610-23-8

  Print book ISBN # 978-1-988610-22-1

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  All rights reserved

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  Edited by Lisa Hollett—Silently Correcting Your Grammar

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  Cover design by Melissa Ringuette, Monark Design Services

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  Formatting by Vellum

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any

  means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information

  storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are

  products of the author's imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any

  similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  For my readers who asked

  And Melissa

  This one is for you.

  Thank you.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Other books by Melanie Moreland

  About the Author

  Halton

  “Tell your client he has twelve hours to decide.”

  There was a pause on the phone.

  “Did you hear me?” I snapped.

  “It’s nine p.m., Hal. You expect him to decide tonight?”

  “This is his fucking kid. If he’s really the parent he insists he is, the decision will take five minutes.”

  I slammed down the phone, spinning my chair so I faced the window. I drew in some much-needed oxygen. Long, steady breaths that would calm and center me.

  It didn’t help.

  I reached toward the sideboard and poured a splash of scotch into the crystal tumbler. Briefly, I held the glass to the light, admiring the golden hue, then I tossed back the liquor. The burn in my throat felt good, the rich smoothness of the scotch coating my taste buds and warming my chest. I poured another shot and sat back, staring into the night.

  The early autumn evening was clear. The lights of the city shone brightly all around me. Up on the fortieth floor, in the corner office, I had a clear view of Toronto harbor and the city. I often stared out the window as I reflected on my day or mulled over the best solution to a problem.

  Or cursed deadbeat parents who felt they deserved to be part of their kid’s life on a whim.

  With a sigh, I leaned my head back into the thick leather of my office chair and sipped my scotch as I tugged my tie loose.

  This case was pissing me off to no end. A divorced couple—the mother retaining full custody, while the father did the usual every second weekend and occasional evening visitation.

  When it suited him—which wasn’t often.

  As my client, his ex-wife, had proven, he was a no-show more than he kept his word. Until she met someone else who stepped up to the plate and became a father figure to her daughter and a partner to her.

  Now this jackass wanted to be a part of his daughter’s life and was demanding more visitation, insisting that his ex-wife had kept his daughter away from him and poisoned her mind against him.

  Luckily, my client kept impeccable records on missed visitation, all the texts and emails she had sent to remind him of upcoming birthdays, important dates, and visiting times. All of which he ignored until he found out he was being replaced.

  And the kicker was how generous my client was being. Rather than put her daughter through a custody battle that could get ugly, she was trying to find a solution. Her offer of steady visitation was more than fair, especially given the fact that he was doing this because his nose was out of joint. His ego wouldn’t allow him to be replaced. And while Janet knew that, she still gave him the benefit of the doubt.

  “I don’t want Kimberly not to know her father,” she explained to me. “He was a good dad when we were together, and she adored him.”

  “That was then,” I argued. I wanted to go after him, no holds barred, and have him erased from their lives completely. “His track record speaks for itself.”

  She looked sad. “I know, but I’m hoping if I make the offer, he’ll try. Really try. So, if Kimmy ever asks me why, I can tell her honestly how hard I attempted to have him be part of her life.” She sighed, looking past me to the window. “George loves her too, but Hank is her father.” She lifted her shoulders in a resigned shrug. “As George says, no child can have too much love. If she can have both of them, then it’s a good thing.”

  Her words still echoed in my head. No child can have too much love.

  Some kids had no love. Sometimes they were pawns—caught in a game they never asked to play.

  A game where they were the losers—every time.

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts, locking up the memories, pushing away the feelings where they belonged.

  In the past.

  The door opening behind me startled me, and I spoke without turning around.

  “Why are you still here?”

  A long sigh met my ears. “Because my tyrant of a boss is still here, so like the good soldier I am, I stayed.”

  I turned and met the steady gaze of my assistant.

  “Now you’re a soldier?”

  Rene’s eyes crinkled as he chuckled. Twenty years my senior, he had more energy than I did most days. He had been married young, and his son was my age, married with two kids Rene doted on. His wife had passed away ten years prior, and since then he was a self-declared ladies’ man. Tall, thin, with café-au-lait colored skin and a polished bald head, he was dressed in his usual flamboyant style. It had taken me a while to get used to his wardrobe. If it had been a large law office, he would have stuck out like a sore thumb, but since it was my own practice, I allowed it.

  Dark dress pants, a brilliant blue shirt, a wild vest, and a jaunty tie was his idea of an office uniform. Other days, his patterned jackets and pocket squares were vivid and bright. The funkiest shoes always adorned his feet. A gold earring gleamed in his ear. His wardrobe screamed uptown, but his work was definitely downtown, and I’d be lost without him. He ran my office with precision and put up with my grueling schedule without a complaint.

  “I’m sure I have the outfit to prove it.”

  I smirked. “No doubt.”

  He set a pile of folders on my desk. “I’ve updated your calendar, made sure all your research was up to date, returned all your messages, and answered all the emails I could. I also rescheduled your dinner with the flavor of the month until Thursday. You have a new client meeting Wednesday evening, and I know how pissy Ms. Molly gets when you keep her waiting.”

  My lips quirked. “Good thinking.”

  “She bothers me.”

  I tried not to laugh. “Does she now? In what way?”

  “Her attitude. She’s a handful. Don’t get me started on that voice either. Like nails on a chalkboard.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “I’m telli
ng you, when you end it—and we both know you will—she’s gonna take it badly. She’s a clinger.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “You need to find a nice girl. Settle down. Stop this casual shit.”

  “Not interested, thanks.”

  He studied me, crossing his arms. “You have a lot to offer someone, Halton.”

  I snorted. “Sex-wise, maybe. That’s all I’m interested in.”

  “It’s all you allow yourself to be interested in.”

  I waved my hand dismissing his words. “It’s no skin off your nose, Rene. Back off.”

  “It would make my life easier, not having to remember who is who and with whom you’re sleeping this week.”

  “I pay you well enough to keep track of those details. Do your job.”

  “I do it well, thank you very much.”

  I lifted one shoulder. “Meh. I guess.”

  “Oh, don’t fall over yourself with the compliments,” Rene snipped. “I’d like to see someone else put up with your broody ass the way I do.”

  He was right and we both knew it, but I liked to give him a hard time. He certainly gave me one every chance he got.

  I sat back in my chair and pursed my lips.

  “Why do you work for me if I’m such a miserable bastard?”

  “Because you wear a suit like no one’s business and it makes my nether regions sing when I watch you strut around,” he deadpanned.

  I blinked. “I have no idea how to respond to that.”

  Rene rolled his eyes and became serious. “I work for you because of what you do, Halton.”

  I interrupted him with an impatient wave of my hand. “Stop calling me that. You know I prefer Hal.”

  He shook his head. “Hal is your persona. He is the asshole other attorneys and judges have to deal with every day. The man who refuses to back down from an argument. The individual who presents an indifferent persona to the world. I know the real Halton. The man who fights on behalf of children. For the woman trying to leave her abusive husband. For the dad who would be a better parent for his child. You battle for the underdog.”

  “Keep the overflowing heart stuff to yourself. I like to see justice done. Simple. And I like to win.”

  Rene turned on his heel and headed to the door. “Say whatever you want. Underneath all that bluster and snarky attitude is a good man.”

  “Get out of my office.”

  Rene paused with a smirk. “Don’t worry, boss man. I like my job too much. I’ll keep that part to myself.”

  “Do that.”

  He shut the door and my phone rang.

  Seeing the number, I smirked. “Hal Smithers,” I barked into the phone.

  “We’ll accept the deal.”

  “I’ll let my client know.”

  I hung up and picked up my scotch.

  Victory.

  Halton

  “You’re not paying attention,” Molly snapped.

  I glanced up from my phone with a frown. “I told you I was in the middle of an important case. My work takes priority. I was very clear from the onset of this…whatever you want to call it, with you.”

  She sniffed. “I thought it was a relationship.”

  With a sigh, I set down my phone and picked up my scotch, sipping the golden liquid with appreciation. I studied Molly in the dim light of the restaurant. She was lovely—if you were into tall, willowy brunettes with great tits.

  Which I was.

  But her expression was dissatisfied. Her dark eyes narrowed as she tapped her wineglass with her long nails and regarded me with a scowl pulling down her mouth. I was tempted to remind her frowning causes wrinkles, but I refrained.

  “I don’t do relationships, Molly. I was very upfront about that. I’m happy to take you to dinner or the odd social function, even away for the weekend, but that’s all I can offer you.”

  “And sex,” she added. “You like sex.”

  “Yep. I was upfront about that too. You’ve never complained about it before.” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “I’m not your happily ever after, Molly. I don’t do that shit. You know that.”

  “You are the most emotionally unavailable man I have ever met.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes. This was hardly news. I didn’t believe in emotions—unless it was anger that I could funnel into winning a case. Fury, frustration, hate—those emotions were useful to me. They were what I built my business on. And they were more truthful than the one emotion I steered clear of. Love. It was the most dangerous one of them all. Four small letters that had the power to destroy everything in their path.

  I shook my head to clear my train of thought. Molly was frowning again, obviously pissed off that I wasn’t responding to her words. I picked up my drink again.

  I had a feeling I would need it tonight.

  “I think if you look hard enough, none of us males are very invested, Molly. At least not the kind of man you seem to like.”

  “What does that mean?” She crossed her arms, pressing her already high breasts together, making them even more visible.

  “You like rich men. Men like me who buy you things. Take you to dinner.”

  She tossed her hair. “And?”

  I shrugged. “The kind of man who can afford you isn’t usually looking for an in-depth relationship.”

  “You are so rude.”

  “I call it as I see it. Besides, you knew all this going in. I take you to dinner, we have sex, I buy you the occasional present. It’s worked so far, so what’s the problem?”

  She sat back, crossing her legs, showing off her calves in her short skirt. Her top leg swung quickly, showing her agitation.

  “I’ve barely seen you for two weeks. And why do you look so tired? The bags under your eyes are worse than normal. It’s not attractive, Hal.”

  I refrained from telling her exactly how hard I worked—it was a concept too foreign for her to understand. So was my constant insomnia. She wouldn’t know about it since I never spent the night with her—or anyone. I kept that stuff private. Instead, I held up my phone. “Work. I’m juggling five cases right now, all of them nasty. I pushed everything aside to have dinner with you tonight.”

  “And you’ve been on your phone the whole time,” she whined. Her voice grated on my nerves, and I recalled Rene’s comments. He was right—it was nasal and high, yet somehow, I had never noticed it until now. I studied her a little harder. I also never noticed how much makeup she wore or her rather questionable wardrobe choices. If she bent over the table, I was certain the restaurant was going to get quite the show. Her tits practically hung out of the plunging neckline. Between that and the inappropriate skirt length, she screamed “Look at me!”

  What had I been thinking?

  Internally, I shook my head. As usual when it came to women, I hadn’t been thinking with the right head. Those great tits had clouded my judgment and led me astray once again.

  “I need more attention,” she added. “I want to go away this weekend.” She lifted her chin. “And I want a present to make up for the time you’ve been ignoring me.”

  I was done. With a sigh, I set down my glass—it was a shame we hadn’t eaten yet. I was looking forward to my filet. I lowered my voice, using the one I had honed over the years of talking to judges, juries, and clients. It cajoled and soothed, led them in the direction I needed them to go.

  “I think what we need is to call this dinner what it really is, sweetheart. Our last meal together. A goodbye.”

  I called all the women I dated sweetheart. It saved my ass trying to make sure I called out the right name during sex.

  Her eyebrows flew up. “What?”

  “We want two different things,” I stated, then launched into my usual exit summary. “You’re great, Molly, and you deserve a guy who can appreciate all you have to offer. Who can devote his time and attention to you. That’s not me. I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

  “You’re breaking up with me?”
r />   “Yes.”

  Her fingers tightened on her wineglass, and I could read her thoughts.

  “I wouldn’t do that.” I indicated the wineglass she was slowly lifting. “My scotch would burn far more going in your direction.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she gasped quietly. She eyed me warily, unsure if she believed her own words.

  She was right. I would never throw liquor in the face of a woman, no matter what she had done. I had class and manners.

  And I wouldn’t want to waste the scotch.

  “Try me,” I taunted.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  Her fingers moved again, and I waited, cursing the fact that I had worn my favorite gray suit today. The red wine was gonna stain it for sure.

  Dammit.

  Then, in a move I didn’t expect, she picked up her water glass and flung the contents at me. I tilted my head, and thankfully, her aim was awful and most of the cold liquid flew past my shoulder, hitting the wall behind me, the sound loud in the quiet restaurant, the ice hitting the surface and the water running in rivulets to the carpet.

  She stood, screeching at me.

  “No one breaks up with me!”

  I lifted my napkin and wiped at my cheek.

  “I think, sweetheart, you’re wrong there. I just did.”

  She stamped her foot like a toddler and stormed out of the restaurant, cursing my name in a very unladylike fashion.

  I had to admit, this was a first for me. Usually I broke up with them in private and sent flowers the next day wishing them well. Molly had been an exception from the moment I met her. A mistake—a huge error in judgment on my part.