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When Chloe was lost in thought, she had a habit of knotting her fingers together. She did so now, rubbing her knuckles pensively. “I confronted him. About the missing money. And he told me he’d happily return it to me. But only if I went back to him.” Her eyes held a bleak pain. “Only if I took Ellie back to the house, and lived with him again. As man and wife.”
Ellie. He squared his shoulders. He was going to do this for Ellie. His Ellie, and the baby she’d never got to grow. “You don’t have to do that, Chloe.”
She nodded, but he could see she was far from convinced. “I’m English,” she said, her lips twisting int
o a small grimace. “Obviously.”
“Yes. I detected a hint of an accent.” He put a hand in the small of her back and guided her towards the leather couches near the windows. It was a seemingly casual gesture, but he knew she was feeling a spark of interest towards him. And he wasn’t going to let it fizzle. When she sat down, he chose to sit opposite, but kept his legs close enough that they were almost brushing hers.
“I don’t want to be deported, Mr Douglas.” She held her hands in her lap.
“You won’t be.” He leaned forward, fixing her in a vice-like gaze. “We can begin proceedings to apply for your citizenship. You have an American daughter. You’ve been married for longer than the minimum requirement. It’s a technicality. You will not be deported.”
“But he said I will! He told me that I don’t have any money, and we can’t properly demonstrate that we joined our finances, and that he’ll do whatever it takes to get me shipped out.” She blinked her eyes shut, and Hendrix watched, fascinated, as a tear inked at the corner of her eye. Her voice was high pitched and breathy.
Hendrix had little doubt that William Ansell-Johns had made all of those threats. Worse, he’d carry them out if she didn’t fall in with his plans. “Chloe, there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not Mr Douglas. Clint is one of my associates.”
“Oh.” She frowned, her confusion obvious. “Is he not well? I’m sure this is the time we were meant to be meeting.”
“Actually, you came to the wrong floor. Clint is down a level.”
“What?” She scanned his face, still obviously not quite understanding what was going on. “But I’ve been in here with you for almost half an hour. Why didn’t you say something?”
He leaned further forward, his expression unwavering. “Because I want to help you.”
Her throat knotted as she swallowed anxiously. “Are you a divorce attorney?”
A breeze of amusement brushed across his features. He was handsome in a completely different way to William. She supposed, if she were completely analytical, she would say that no one of his features was particularly beautiful. His eyes were wide set, his brows thick and dark, his nose straight, his jaw square and stubbled. But combined, his face was both stunning, and interesting. He had an air of rebellion about him, despite the cut of his suit and the surroundings they were in. When it came to waging war, she thought he might fight like the warrior she’d first thought him to be.
“Not strictly speaking, no.”
Her anxiety trebled. She stood up restlessly and ran her fingers down her dress, straightening it over her narrow hips. “Then how do you expect to help me?”
“I’m Hendrix Forrester, and this is my firm.”
She stood on the spot, not reacting at all to this discovery. For what felt like an eternity, she didn’t speak. Her whole body remained perfectly stiff. Then, colour rushed to her face. “Mr Forrester.” She blanked her eyes closed. “I can’t possibly afford someone like you.”
“No, I would say not.”
Chloe’s throat was parched. She gulped silently. “What exactly do you charge, sir?”
His words were tinged with derision, not for her, but for the corporate clients who paid his bills. “Over a thousand dollars per hour – or part thereof.”
She gaped, her face white as a sheet. “A thousand dollars… Oh, my Lord.” She lifted a hand to her mouth. “And I’ve been here with you…”
He lifted a hand, to silence her. “You will not be paying me.”
She studied him warily. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll take it on. Pro Bono. Free.”
An emotion he didn’t understand crossed her face. She shook her head slowly and then stalked across his office. “No.” She scooped up her broken handbag, clutching it under her arm, then spun around to face him. She was a different woman. Cool and untouchable. “I thank you for your time, sir, and expect to receive your bill in due course.” Though God knew she’d have to throw herself on the mercy of his accounts team to negotiate just how the heck she’d cover it. Perhaps in instalments, while she got back on her feet. A faint sweat threatened to break out on her brow.
Hendrix moved quickly, crossing to the door and blocking her from leaving. “You’re offended. Why?”
She didn’t bother to deny it, but nor did she meet his eyes. “I’ve learned the hard way that nothing in life is for free. I need a lawyer. A divorce lawyer. I’m not asking for favours. I’m not asking for a miracle. I simply want to be legally free of a man I once thought I cared for.”
Hendrix pushed aside the grudging sense of respect her words had inspired. He didn’t want to admire a thing about this woman. She was nothing to him but a pawn. A means of exacting revenge on the man he had every reason to hate. “Fine.” His smile was smooth. “What if I charge you the same rate as Clint would?”
