Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Jason is attractive by most standards, and his body language is confident. But his entire demeanor reeks of entitlement. I don’t want to know what Jovie saw in this man that made her fall hard enough to wear his ring on her finger.
“It says here the two of you were married less than a year,” I say.
“Right.”
“Was the decision to split mutual?” I ask. “Amicable?”
“Not exactly,” he says. “The spark kind of died out.”
“That quickly?” I ask out of curiosity because I can’t help myself.
“It happens.”
“Not as frequently as one might think,” I say. “Did the two of you attempt to make any sort of efforts to save the marriage? For instance, did you try counseling?”
He rolls his eyes. “Counseling never works.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Does it matter?”
“The court will want to know,” I say. “In order to divide assets equitably, they’ll need to know about the emotional investments at play here, not simply the financial investments.”
He blows a breath between pursed lips. “She wanted to try therapy, but I’ve never been into that kind of thing. Sitting around, talking about feelings? I’d rather stab myself in the balls with rusty scissors.”
I’ve only been in this man’s presence for a handful of minutes and already I’d like to do the same—to him.
“That’s certainly not going to work in your favor,” I say.
“Can’t we just lie? I mean, it’s my word against hers.”
“We absolutely cannot lie,” I say.
He chuckles through his nose, like he thinks I’m kidding.
“Oh, come on,” he says. “There’s got to be a way we can paint this in a better light. Isn’t that what lawyers do?”
I ignore his insulting question and flip through the remaining documents.
“It says here you’re seeking fifty percent of her earnings for the last fiscal year and you’d like fifty percent of any royalties stemming from the book she wrote while the two of you were married,” I say. “Did you help her write that book?”
“No,” he says. “But it’s a marital asset, right? Kind of like if I would’ve opened a business when we were together. She’d be entitled to a portion of those earnings or a share of the company.”
“Did you bring anything into this union?”
“I mean …”
“It says here, you have a 2015 Audi A6 that you still owe thirty grand on … a handful of credit cards with balances totaling around eighteen thousand … fifty-six thousand in student loan debt … and it looks like Ms. Vincent has a sizeable brokerage portfolio, a retirement plan, as well as a six-figure savings account. She brought significant assets to the marriage while you brought a mountain of debt.”
“When you put it that way …” His attention darts to the folder. “It looks bad. And I get it.”
“I don’t think you do.” I shut the file folder and shove it across my desk. “I’m sorry, Mr. Whitlock, but my firm won’t be able to represent you.”
He chuffs, his chest puffing through his cashmere sweater. “I already paid a retainer.”
“We’ll see to it that it’s returned to you in full.” I rise and straighten my tie.
“I don’t understand …”
“We’re not the firm for you. Please show yourself out.” I walk him to the door, and he damn near trips over his fake Gucci loafers. “The check will be in the mail.”
Returning to my desk, I compose an email to Becca and copy her assistant, instructing them to release the client and return his retainer.
The subject line reads Conflict of Interest.
The number of times I’ve turned down clients in my career so far, I can count on one hand. I have no doubt I could’ve made some semblance of an argument for Jason if I tried—as unfair as it would have been to Jovie. There are always loopholes and exceptions if you look hard enough.
But I would never—could never—do that to her.
Her greatest strengths are also her fatal flaws: she loves too hard and trusts too deeply.
She doesn’t deserve to be punished for falling in love again.
And she won’t be.
Not on my watch.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jovie
* * *
I pull up to Stone’s place Monday evening, check my reflection in my visor mirror, and trot up his front walk. After I left the last time, I spent the entire drive to Monica’s cringing in mortified self-reflection.
I still can’t believe I told him I used to have a crush on him …
It just … slipped out.
The entire thing was made ten times worse by the fact that he didn’t react. He didn’t flinch. He barely blinked. There was no shock on his face. No smile. He just stood there, stoic and expressionless.
Perhaps on a deeper level, I was hoping he’d ‘fess up that he entertained the same thoughts back then. But once again, it was nothing more than wishful thinking. The wind was then completely taken from my sails when he mentioned that he was in love with someone and it was complicated.