Page 2

two

Damien

I watch Lucille Fairchild walk out of Fleur de Femme wearing a tight fitting wrap dress that has my mind traveling to a million places.

One of those places is back to her sister, who is supposed to be meeting with my lawyer and I to go over the finalization of our divorce papers. And the other place…is forbidden.

She filed the papers three years ago and since then, it’s been a battle of back and forth. Partly because I’ve had more important matters to tend to, mostly because she only filed them for attention. To get a rise out of me I suppose. Our relationship had been dead for so long that I wonder if it had ever been alive in the first place.

But Lucille…she is very much alive. Alive and much more of a woman than I remember her to be. The once meek and quiet girl with constant smiles that were forever shut down by her family has now morphed into a very…interesting adult. A nervous adult. A woman shrouded in poverty which is confusing because I know the family that she comes from.

A family of power. Of wealth and greed and an intricate list of connections that I was lucky to have in my back pocket for so long.

“Mr. Reed, did you hear me?” Allison Mayfield asks.

I turn to her and nod quietly, grabbing her hand to shake it gently.

“I did, miss, thank you. I’ll be in contact with you and your team shortly. My assistant will send over the calendar to schedule our meeting for the proposal,” I say as she thrusts her chest out slightly, giving me a view of her ample and fake tits in her dress.

I lean forward and kiss her cheek. She smells of designer perfume, a lot of it. The scent is as overpowering as this store.

I never understood why women want to layer themselves in expensive, scented alcohol when the natural scent of a woman is beautiful enough. But that question doesn’t really matter. Not when this merger is set to make me at least another three million.

The truth is, I don’t need money. I have plenty of it.

What I need is a distraction and also a reason for the copious amounts of money that I do have. Mergers like these, sales and purchases of these companies, are nothing but ploys. Little covers to keep people like my ex-wife’s father and my own father out of my back pocket.

I pull away from Allison and nod at her and the blond woman that I watched sneer at Lucille. I exit the store and as soon as my shoes hit the sidewalk, my phone starts ringing in my pocket.

“Christ,” I growl to the sky.

I just want one moment. One moment of peace and quiet.

“Yes, Bruno,” I say as I press the phone to my ear.

“Megan and the attorney are at the loft,” he says, and I sigh heavily into the phone.

“Of course they are. Tell the driver I’m ready.” I’m not surprised in the slightest that she’s there an hour before she’s supposed to be.

I adjust my watch on my wrist and fix the lapel of my dark blue Armani suit as I wait for the car in front of the store. My designer shoes stomp on something as I walk further onto the sidewalk. When I bend down and retrieve the piece of paper that I stepped on, I realize it’s just a random resume. I’m about to crumple it and toss it, but my eyes latch on the name Fairchild.

This is Lucille’s resume.

I look at the bare work history, from when she worked as a file sorter for the local library in high school, up to her internship at the Lucas Brothers firm. I see her current job as a bartender, but there is no name. Just the name of her supervisor. Her education ended three years ago and I realize that it’s impossible for her to graduate in just a few years, which means she dropped out.

Which means that either her family is no longer paying for her schooling, or something happened. Which would explain the job at some random bar that I will find the name of.

Truthfully, as much as a headache that her older sister is, Lucille’s current trajectory is making me curious. After all, I do have some lingering interest in her father and his business, although I’ve never fully been able to trust the man. And while I no longer have the desire to deal with her sister, Lucille might be the perfect way back into this family. She might be the greatest ploy of them all.

“Poor little Lucy,” I say as I fold the resume and place it in my pocket.

It must be awful for her to always be in the middle of her family’s crossfire, but I don’t care. Her father owes me an obscene amount of money for his most recent campaign, money that I intend to collect without the knowledge of his bitchy eldest daughter. And since he’s been trying to evade me, I think it’s time for me to remind him that he’s still in a bit of debt. Even if he could have the feds snooping around my offices and homes.

Because Megan not only filed those papers for attention, but also because her father was sticking his nose into my business when I left the military and came into money. He had way too many suspicions and way too many questions. I think it’s time for me to collect my money and keep his nose away from my life once and for all.

After all, nobody wants a politician snooping around the leader of a cartel business. Not really the wisest decision to make, but Michael Fairchild isn’t truly a smart man.

My driver arrives and I slide into the back seat of my blacked-out BMW. When he speeds off down the streets of Manhattan, I unfold the resume from my pocket. I punch the name of Lucy’s current supervisor in a text to Bruno.

Find out what this man owns.

I hit send and then stare out the window as we drive from Fleur de Femme, all the way to my apartment where the wicked witch of the west awaits.

* * *

“There you are,” Megan Fairchild purrs as she walks towards me in a dark gray pencil dress and black heels.

She’s always dressed modestly, never showing her chest because she doesn’t have much chest to show. Every dress clings to her small, thin frame just slightly, because she barely ever eats. She’s practically a skeleton with a dark brown bob and even darker eyes.

At one point, I used to find her beautiful. Stunning even. The classic, clean beauty that many men often fall for when they’re looking for a wife. And I was. I was looking for security, for a way in. And I found it with Megan Allison Fairchild. But over time, she grew cold and her appearance matched it tenfold. She slowly began to morph into her mother and now, she’s even worse.

She’s an ice queen in a slightly baggy, dark gray pencil dress and honestly, I can’t wait to get rid of her.

“You’re early,” I say as I slide off my suit jacket and place it on the marble kitchen island.

She stares at the tattoos on my arms as I roll up my black sleeves, a slight frown pinching her thin brows together. She hates my tattoos and the way I keep my hair. Hates the scar on my face and the beard as well, which is exactly why I keep those things. Like a human using garlic to ward off a vampire.

But still, her dark eyes travel from my forearms to the top of my chest that’s exposed from the buttons that are undone from my black dress shirt that’s tucked neatly into my tailored pants. She assesses me from head to toe and while usually I enjoy women admiring me, this one I want to throw off my balcony.

“Aren’t you going to say hello? I haven’t seen you in months and you’ve been ignoring my phone calls.” She pouts and I want to slap that spoiled, entitled look right from her thin lips, but I refrain.

We’re supposed to be civil. And if biting my tongue and squaring my jaw means that these papers will get finalized today and she will be out of my life forever, then so be it.

Plus, I’ve got another Fairchild that piqued my interest.

One that’s quiet, moldable. One that’s gullible enough to believe my bullshit and not question my fucking business like this one does.

One that’s not thin like this one, but has curves all throughout her athletic body. One with bright blue eyes and mousy brown hair. One with freckles that dust over her small nose and pink, full lips made to be wrapped around a man’s-

“Earth to Damien. Are you going to respond?” She hisses like the serpent she is and I rip my mind away from the strange thoughts I have of her younger sister.

“Hello, Megan. How are you?” I say as I rub my jaw, my fingers scratching my short beard as she rolls her eyes and walks away from me.

“Fine, not like you care. I’m early because I wanted to review some things in the paperwork before we finalize,” she says as she smoothes her hands over her dress.

Of course she does.

Because why would she ever make things simple or let go of the past?

“Damien, this is my colleague, Brian. An attorney at my firm. He’s come to review some things with us alongside…Adrian.” She sneers as she looks over at the attorney I’ve had for the past ten years.

She’s very ballsy. Staring at a man like that who could snap her neck in under a second, but who I am I to warn her? She’s not my wife anymore. She’s never really been mine to protect anyway.

I’ve got bigger priorities. Ones more important than Megan Fairchild.

He leans back in his chair at my table, eyes narrowing on the witch that stands in my dining room. A blond man appears from the corner and walks towards Megan. His hand wraps around her thin waist in an all-too friendly gesture as she pats his light gray suit.

Oh yeah, they’re fucking.

And thank God for that.

“Mr. Reed,” Adrian starts, “I was not aware there would be another lawyer present,” he says in an agitated tone, equally ready to be done with this as I am.

“Neither was I,” I growl as I pour myself a glass of scotch from the kitchen counter.

I carry it with me to the long, glass dining table set in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook Manhattan.

It’s a beautiful loft, one that I’ve made home since she’s been living in our house in upstate New York. Never mind the apartment she still has near the firm.

Brian sits at the table and I give him no reaction. Quite honestly, I’ve got no problem that he’s fucking my soon-to-be ex-wife. We haven’t had sex in years, even though she’s tried many times. Her horrid personality has made her unattractive to me. And I know she only wants to fuck me for money or gifts.

I hope he’s fucking her. Because I hate her. And I want her out of my life.

For good.

“I want to renegotiate the house,” she says as she stands above Brian, asserting her dominance and playing the role of Alpha that she never got to play with me.

Because I would rip her fucking head off if she tried to. And she doesn’t like that.

She wants men she can toy with, manipulate. Men that will give her puppy eyes and say please and follow her around like a dehydrated dog.

Men that I never was or ever will be.

“You can have it,” I say as I sip my scotch and turn my chair to look down at the city below.

She scoffs.

“You’re playing with me. Be serious, Damien, we need to get this done,” she says in a fake, exhausted tone.

Because she’s trying to play the role of the victim. She’s trying to make it seem like I am the one that’s dragged this on for the past three years.

But she’s not. And quite frankly, I don’t care how she feels or how she acts.

And I definitely don’t give a shit about some house that she had one hundred percent control of. The design is trash to begin with. It lost market value from her reconstruction alone.

I look at her over my shoulder as I cross a leg over my knee, sipping my scotch as I sigh in annoyance.

“Exactly,” I growl, my voice dropping an octave.

“Which is why you can have it,” I say as I drain the contents of my glass.

“I’m sorry, uh, what?” She laughs nervously, glancing down at Brian and Adrian in confusion.

“You can take the house and everything inside of it, Megan,” I say as I look down at my phone that vibrates with a text from Bruno.

Found him , it says, with an address of the place where Lucille works. When I open it, I try to hide my shock as I stare at the risque establishment the youngest Fairchild daughter is employed at.

“Matter of fact,” I say as I close the text and slide the phone back into the tight pocket of my dark blue suit pants.

I reach for the papers near Adrian’s hand and pull them to me. I sign every line on my set of divorce papers and I slide them right back to my attorney, not once glancing at my ex-wife and her fuck toy.

“She can have anything else she wants,” I say to Adrian, no longer speaking to her as she scoffs and throws an airy temper tantrum with nothing but sighs.

“Except for my key to the penthouse. You will take that from her before she leaves here today. It was never in the contract to begin with and I’m in no mood to deal with her antics today. I have important matters to attend to,” I say to my attorney as Megan tries to get my attention.

I remove myself from the table and walk to grab my suit jacket. When I slide it on and head for the door, her heels click angrily against the floor as she marches up to me and grabs me.

I turn then, giving her a very lethal, and angry stare as she swallows nervously while I dust her frail hand from my suit.

That’s right, princess. I’m in control here. I always have been.

“You got what you wanted. Now don’t show your face here again. That’s a warning,” I say in a low, gravelly tone.

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, but I don’t stick around to listen to any other useless words she might have for me. I walk out of the loft and slam the door in her face.

I dial Bruno as I walk down the hall and step into the elevator.

“Yes, boss,” he says as I descend down to the main floor.

“I have an assignment for you,” I say. The elevator makes it to the lobby, Lucille Fairchild and her innocent face now fully on my mind and my agenda.