Page 2 of Not That Guy

The following year

Brenner

“Please, Brenner? I’ve got a massive hangover from my brother’s bachelor party. There’s no way I can make it to my nine a.m. meeting.”

Starting the week by having to fill in for someone who’d called in sick was never high on my list of things I liked to do. But Seth was a senior partner’s son, and it didn’t matter if he was a giant pain in the ass or a slacker. Which, to his credit, he wasn’t most of the time. Still…

“Shouldn’t you have thought of that before you soaked your brain in tequila?” I sipped my coffee, looking over the morning headlines, each one more depressing than the next.

“Yeah, but how could I say no? Plus, there were strippers with the biggest—”

“Spare me.” I rolled my eyes. “I know all about bachelor parties.”

“You do?”

“Yes, of course,” I responded with irritation. “I’m not a monk, you know.”

“Could’ve fooled me. I’ve been here five years, and I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned a date or even a hookup. You’ve gotta be ready to bust a nut.”

A lecture on my sex life was not something I either wanted or appreciated. “I don’t speak about my personal life. That’s why it’s called personal. Also, please try and remember—I’m not one of your bros. I don’t need all the dirty details. And you don’t exactly have a good track record with women.”

“At least I have one. You and I are different. I’m twenty-eight. You’re thirty-nine.”

There were a great many differences between me and Seth other than our age, but I wasn’t going to bother to list them. It would take way too long.

“Thanks for the reminder. Anyway, I’ll do it, but you owe me a very large iced coffee. And make sure your ass is in bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“I will. Promise. It’ll be an easy one for you.”

“I’ve said it before. No matter how it looks on the outside, divorce is never easy. At one point, these two people thought they loved each other and would spend the rest of their lives together. We’re part of the cleanup crew—the aftermath of the crash and burn. I always tread lightly.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

I grimaced. “And Jesus Christ. Didn’t you remember one of my first rules? No meetings earlier than ten a.m.”

“Uh, yeah. Oh, I forgot. The opposing attorney can’t—shit, I gotta go.

” Hacking and gurgling noises on his end made my stomach turn.

“I’m gonna be sick.” The call ended, and I was left with the image of Seth tossing his cookies.

My sausage-and-egg breakfast sandwich suddenly didn’t seem as appetizing as it had only moments ago, and I dumped it into the trash.

I checked my watch. I had just enough time to open the file he’d emailed me and try to familiarize myself with the case.

Two young people whose parents hated their choice in spouses.

That never boded well. I checked the firm and saw the name of the attorney handling the case had been crossed out, with a note from Seth: New opposing counsel.

“Who the fuck is it?” That must’ve been what he’d been about to tell me when he’d lost the contents of his stomach. I scanned the file, but there was only a phone number with no name. Obviously, Seth’s brain had been on the bachelor party rather than his case. My intercom buzzed.

“Yes, Tanya?”

“Seth’s nine a.m. is here, but he’s not in yet.”

“I’ll be taking it this morning. Please put them in the conference room.”

“Okay.”

Roman and White was a boutique firm I’d joined after I graduated law school.

They handled all aspects of family law, and I’d been thrilled to receive an offer to work for them.

I’d turned down the rat race of the huge, white-shoe law firms, wanting a less hectic, less competitive environment.

Roman and White were well known in the family-law field, and they boasted some high-profile clients.

Making partner was the culmination of all my hard work and the dream of being a lawyer—one I’d had since I was a kid.

In the intervening years, I’d paid no mind to the petty infighting of the senior partners, and though the shine had somewhat worn off, I remained grateful every day.

I was living a life I’d only dreamed of as a child and took nothing for granted.

Headhunters kept trying to recruit me, and while I wasn’t averse to leaving, I did have a sense of loyalty to the firm.

I picked up my legal pad and pen and stopped by Seth’s office to get the printed file. While everything was online, I preferred to have paper in front of me.

“Old-fashioned,” Seth always joked.

I opened the conference room door and saw our client, Rodney Fuller, seated with his father, whom I knew from the intake meeting.

The soon-to-be ex, Jill Swanson-Fuller, sat opposite them with an older version of herself, ostensibly her mother.

A tall man stood with his back to me, studying the legal treatises in the bookcase.

Rude of a colleague not to even bother to acknowledge that I’d entered the room.

That put him one rung up on my shithead ladder.

“Hello. I’m Brenner Fleming. Seth Roman couldn’t make it this morning, so rather than postpone the meeting, I’m filling in.”

The man snapped to attention, and finally turned, greeting me with a wicked grin and predatory green-gold eyes reminiscent of a big cat on the hunt. “Weston Lively.”

I swore my heart sank to my feet. It couldn’t be. Fuck. Not that guy .

I remained mute, damning my traitorous body. Sweat popped up and ran down my spine, my nerve endings firing. It was all I could do to keep from trembling. Uncomfortable silence grew between us until I blinked and got my shit together.

“Hello. Nice to meet you.”

A slash of brow rose high as if to say, So we’re going to play that game, are we?

“Same. I’m also new to the case. The Swansons called me in last-minute.”

My nod was curt. “Shall we start?” I sat by Rodney. “This seems like it should be—”

“It’s not. If you were going to say simple,” Weston interrupted. “My client has uncovered assets Mr. Fuller was attempting to hide.”

“That’s a lie,” Rodney burst out. “You just want to take everything from me and leave me penniless so you can be with your boyfriend.”

“There is no boyfriend. I never cheated on you. But I know about that Swiss bank account. And the other one in Aruba.”

Holy shit, this was spinning out of control. Obviously Weston had anticipated this, because the bastard sat there with a smirk on his arrogant face. Seth was going to owe me more than a damned iced coffee for stepping into this snake pit.

“Please, both of you. This hostility is getting us nowhere. Why don’t I talk for a moment with my client?” I tipped my head to the door and led Rodney and his father outside. “Is this true?” I asked when they were seated in my office. “Do you have offshore accounts you haven’t disclosed?”

A guilty Rodney darted a glance to his father. Rodney might be twenty-seven, but I knew who called the shots.

“Please tell me the truth.”

Jonathan Fuller glared at me. “We hired your firm to represent our interests, not that greedy whore’s.”

“Whoa. Okay, Mr. Fuller. Be angry, but I don’t allow language like that. I understand divorce is contentious, but this is why people who don’t really know each other and don’t have prenups get into trouble. How much is in those accounts in total assets?”

Rodney bowed his head. “About three million dollars.”

Jesus . This twerp was going to learn a lesson. “And how much was acquired during the marriage? That makes all the difference.”

Rodney met my eyes. “About four hundred thousand. But doesn’t the fact that she was cheating on me from the beginning mean anything?”

“Not for distribution of marital assets. Under the law, she’s entitled to half of what you acquired while you were married.

” Rodney’s face drained of color while his father’s turned beet red.

“I’ll need your tax returns, and we’ll have to include this in distribution.

What we will negotiate on is alimony.” I watched the anger rise in the senior Fuller’s eyes. “How do you know she was cheating?”

“I hired a private detective. Every Wednesday she met with a man—the same man—at his house for an hour.” Jonathan Fuller speared me with an angry look. “What the hell do you think she was doing?”

“I have no idea. Did you ask her?”

Rodney snorted. “My father said she wouldn’t tell the truth, so why should I bother?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake . This kid was being led by his balls. “This is the best I can tell you right now. Let’s go back inside.”

When we returned, Jill was pale and looked as though she’d been crying.

Her mother sat with a pinched face, as if she’d sucked on an entire lemon.

Weston had left his clients sitting, and his long frame leaned against the edge of the conference table.

I caught a whiff of his cologne and damned myself for my traitorous body’s response. I stepped away and set my jaw.

“Rodney, c-can I talk to you a minute?” Jill’s mouth trembled, and her eyes grew shiny. “Please?”

“Don’t listen to her,” Jonathan warned, but Rodney bit his lip, the longing obvious in his eyes.

“What is it?” Rodney asked, and sensing hesitancy, I prodded him.

Jill left her seat, and Rodney met her halfway. “Can we talk alone for a second? Without my mother or your father?”

I beckoned them. “You can use my office.”

“Jill, I don’t advise—” Weston began, but she whirled around.

“But I want to do this.” She and Rodney walked across the hall to the room, and I closed the door behind them and stood in front of it.

“Guard-dog duty, Brenner?” Weston sniped. “Is that your real job?”

“Don’t try to interfere with them. I’m sure they’ll pay your fee even if they do get back together.” My lip curled in a sneer.

“I don’t need some small-potato divorce case to make my bottom line.” He paused. “Unlike some.”