Page 135 of All the Forbidden Things

“You’ve got this, and we’ve got the tox reports from the hospitalandwitnesses who are willing to testify that Whitney often purchased cocaine from them … as well as all of this …”

She passes the manila envelope I didn’t notice her holding over her shoulder to Waters. He slides the papers out and studies them before looking up at Whitney. Gesturing to one of his assistance, they take the papers from him and hand them to Whitney, who smiles as she glances at them for seconds, before looking up at Diksha. “What can I say? Sometimes I’m a very bad girl.”

She shrugs and passes them back to the assistant, who passes them to me.

I skim read the print: Six DUI”s and three arrests for possession in various countries around the world. I look up and meet my wife’s eyes. They widen as she shrugs and smiles. Who the fuck is this woman?

Diksha shakes her head and looks around the room with her brows raised. We’re all looking as astounding as she is at Whitney’s attitude. Her dark eyes land on my wife and look her up and down with contempt.

“You do realise if this is made public, Layla will likely be made a ward of the court, meaning both of you being cited as unfit parents?”

“Well, that’s why we're here. I don’t want to put it out there, but I will. If I have to, I’ll use it.”

Without my even looking, I feel Whitney’s cold gaze slice to me. “Imagine the damage this could do to your career, Max. Not only will you lose your daughter, but you’ll also likely lose your precious band.”

“You know what Whit? I don’t think I’ll be losing anything. Do you know why? Because I don’t think you’ll take it that far. You don’t want Layla. You don’t care about me or this piss poor excuse of a marriage. So, tell me, Whitney, what the fuck do you want?”

“Max,” Aaron warns.

“No, Al. I’m done sitting here listening to this bollocks. Let’s get it done. What. Do. You. Want?” I punctuate each word, but I don’t shout.

I’m done with this bullshit. Done being in this city, this office, around these people. I just want this over with. I know Whitney, all she’s looking for is some leverage.

“Two million a year for five years. A house back in Los Angeles. Joint custody.”

“How’s that gonna work? Joint custody, if you’re living in the States?”

Whitney's thin lips slide into a smile. “Oh, I don’t want her with me, not full time. Layla’s yours. She can live with you, you can arrange her education, blah, blah, whatever. She can stay with me, let’s say … four times a year, and I’ll come visit her, maybe five. You know, just so no one thinks I’ve abandoned my own child. I just want the paperwork to state we share custody, so when I need to, I can have access, and you can’t do a damn thing about it.”

For a few seconds, I feel like I’m about to pass out. I think it’s the rush of adrenalin, or my body fighting the anger building inside me. I grip the arms of my chair, genuinely worried that what I’m experiencing could possibly be a heart attack, and focus on my breathing because, if I don’t, I’m likely to wrap my hands around my wife's throat, drag her by it out of these offices, across the busy roads, along the embankment, before tossing her into the Thames.

“We’re agreeing to nothing right now. I’ll consult with my client and reschedule for some time next week,” Diksha tells the room.

“You do this Whit, when you lose, just know that everything else I offered is off the table. As per the terms of our prenup, you’ll come out of this marriage with exactly what you deserve, fuck all. Nothing, exactly what you’ve contributed.”

“See, again, Max, that’s where you’re wrong. I also want a house in London and five return flights a year for when I make those trips to come visit my daughter, who I’ve so considerately allowed to continue living in London with her father so as not to destabilise her little world. Oh, and I’ll also take a million in spending money for me, you know, just because.”

I laugh, because what the fuck? The woman’s certifiable.

I watch her nod her head towards a member of Water’s team, and the flat-screen telly that had been displaying the image of my prone form in all its glory switches to an image that ends my world.

Billie.

Straddling my lap.

Back arched.

Head tilted back, face to the ceiling.

Mouth open, eyes closed in the throes of orgasm as I bite down on her nipple.

I stand so fast my chair tips back and hits the floor.

I don’t even remember moving, but I’m now standing in front of Whitney, who’s smiling up at me. She lets out a sigh, and it’s only Aaron’s grip on my shoulder that stops me from breaking something.

“I want it all, Max. Everything I’ve mentioned, I want it all else I’ll go public with these.”

“We’ll sue,” Aaron states.