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I lookup in time to capture her eyes before she disappears around a building. My chest does the whole warming thing that makes me feel slightly uncomfortable, but in a good way.
I don't respond, I smile and click my phone screen off.
Jameson watchesme over his glass. His predatory gaze and aloof lawyer attitude really pisses me off. “As your lawyer, it’s my job to tell you this is stupid.”
“Actually, it’s your job to get the paperwork for me and shut up.”
He smiles, “You’re a delight, has anyone ever told you that?”
I bare my teeth at him. “Plenty.”
He sighs, setting his glass down. “Listen, I understand making sure she’s taken care of, but leaving everything you own to her is unnecessary.”
“Is it?” I volley back. “I could walk out of this club and be shot in the dome.”
“The chances of that happening are-”
I cut him off. “High. We both know that.”
“Fine, but no prenup is insane. You’re one of the richest men in Seattle, you own a goddamned island for christ sakes.”
“It’s my decision, now hand the damn paperwork over.”
With a sign, Jameson slides it over and watches with true horror as I sign it.
“I’m still advising against this,” he mumbles.
“I’ll pay you fifty percent extra to keep your opinions to yourself.”
“Always a pleasure, Atticus.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I mumble into my drink.
I look down at my watch, slumping in my chair as Jameson leaves and my mark enters. Hanson Cummings. Owner of a dark web page who exploits children. I’m in the process of getting the website down, but the dark web is a whole other ball game.
Once he’s dead, there is another in line, willing and ready to take his place. But see, Hanson and I have some unfinished business. He employed my father. And it’s about time all the skeletons are let out of the closet and running through my forest.
He thinks he’s meeting an investor. But the only thing I’m invested in is taking his last breath.
Chapter 35
"Healing yourself is connected with healing others."
- Yoko Ono.
My therapist thinks I might be the problem.
Unbelievable.
I havemy head tucked down as I text Atticus.
The last couple of months have been very healing on both ends. His through therapy and mine through freedom. Something I’ve rarely had, and he, well, I’m surprised he’s lasted this long in therapy.
It’s been hard on both of our parts. Having to be away from each other, but I get it. We need time to learn and love ourselves before we build a life together. It just sucks.
I bump into someone as I enter the elevator but I don’t look up. Too focused on the giddy feeling of seeing his name flash across the screen. “Sorry.”
Please tell me you’re wearing something hot. My cock is lonely.
