Page 94 of Dirty Rich Cinderella Story

CHAPTER FORTY

Lori

Cole perches on the edge of the desk, making it clear he’s in no rush to return to the dining room where our movie star client awaits. “I’m going to call the detective on speaker,” he says, “so that you can start getting used to dealing with assholes like him.” He scrolls through his contacts, clearly looking for the number, and for just a moment I simply admire this man. He’s beautiful, yes, but there is this air of confidence in him that one can only describe as “presence.” He’s confident in the powerful way that most imitate and few master, but it’s inherent to Cole. Or perhaps he simply felt he had to be so perfect from such a young age, it became a learned trait. Whatever the case, you know when he is in the room. His confidence radiates in a way that makes you want to know what he knows, be what he is.

“Here we go,” Cole says, glancing up, and catching me watching him. “What is it?” he asks.

“Nothing work-related. Nothing bad.”

“Well then, I just hope that you’re thinking of the same things I keep thinking about.” He winks, and punches in a number, the ring echoing into the silent room before the detective answers with, “Cole Brooks. I hope you’re on your way.”

“We’re going to need you to come to us to avoid a press bomb,” Cole says. “We’re in a hotel and no one knows she’s here.”

“All right,” he says, a bit too easily, I think, proven by his next comment. “How’s next Wednesday?”

“Today,” Cole says, no inflection in his voice just firm certainty. “As planned. And here at the hotel. This is a courtesy interview, unless you plan to charge my client.”

“I’ve got things to do today here at the precinct that don’t include coming to you,” he replies. “I can give you a courtesy visit to the hotel next week. Actually, I’m not available today after all. I’ll stop by when it feels right.” He hangs up.

Cole grimaces. “That little prick. He’s trying to keep me here to interfere with my work. It’s a game he’s not going to win.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I could call the chief, who I know, but I think we’re going to do what they don’t expect. Go to the police station and issue a statement. Someone will take it.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because then our client looks compliant to a judge, while our detective looks like an asshole who insisted she do this interview today, the day after losing a friend while hosting a breast cancer event.”

“Waller is willing to risk looking that way because he wants to make her uncomfortable,” I assume, “and he wants her to turn on her father.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees. “He and his cronies might even tip off the press that we’re coming, and just take the pain that comes with it. She’s a weapon in a battle we’re fighting, but don’t understand yet, but we’re going to make it work for us, not them.” He straightens, and catches my hips, walking me to him, before his hands cup my face. “I’m going to kiss you now unless you tell me it’s against the rules, despite the closed door.”

I think of Tara rubbing her boobs against Cole, and of all the men that would have forgotten me for her. But he’s still here, with me, with us. I push to my toes, my intent to kiss him, but he’s already kissing me, a deep slide of tongue before he says, “That was to remind us why we want to end this today and go home tonight.” He sets me away from him. “Let’s go talk to our client.” I reach the door first and open it. I exit directly in front of him to find Tara standing in the living room.

“I got antsy in that room,” she says. “What’s going on?”

“You’re going to make a big deal about going to the police station,” Cole instructs, laying out his plan to set her up to win any future battles.

***

Cole

Lori and I drill Tara for an hour before we head to the police station, where we will show up on my schedule, not anyone else’s, and demand we give a statement. When we’re finally ready, Lori and I do not stay for the clusterfuck of security and covert mission operations it takes to get Tara out of the building, nor do we ride with her to the police station. Once we’re there, inside and secure, we wait. Tara’s car pulls up to the station, and the press erupt over her. Her security does a good job of getting her inside and they have the sense to stay on the other side of the secure area. The press also does a good job of making the station a nightmare.

Detective Waller, a forty-something man, with salt and pepper hair, a tall, broad stature, and a distinctly sharp nose to match his sharp attitude, greets us just past security. “Obviously you’re Cole Brooks,” he says, already looking at Tara, or rather her ample cleavage, a hint of male appreciation on his face. “I see the world knows you’ve arrived here,” he says, greeting Tara and offering her his hand.

“Sorry,” she says, folding her arms under those breasts, and pumping them up. “I can’t shake hands. If I get sick, it throws off a lot of people’s schedules. And this place is very dirty.”

She comes off as a diva bitch, but I don’t know much about MS. She might really need to be cautious. She might really wear that diva badge as a shield, and I can’t say I blame her. Waller glances at Lori. “And you would be?” This time he doesn’t offer his hand.

“Lori Havens,” Lori says and following my lead from earlier, she adds, “Cole’s associate.”

“Associate,” he says smirking. “They don’t make associates the way they used to.”

“I’ll assume that to be a compliment,” Lori replies. “And you have mustard all down the front of your shirt.”

Tara shows good sense and doesn’t respond, nor do I. We simply let him suffer in the moment, when a young pretty associate turns around an insult on him. His eyes flicker slightly, embarrassment quickly banked before he recovers with, “In case I need some later. Let’s get this done.” He turns and starts walking, as I place Tara to my left, and Lori to my right, glancing over at Lori to give her a wink of approval. Her lips quirk, but she says nothing.

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