Page 20 of The Suit

“That was quick. Did you get it all done?” Blake asked as he slipped into the room as though he’d been outside the entire time, which I wouldn’t put past him.

“No, I fucking didn’t.” I pushed out of my chair. “I need to speak to Duke. Can you get him and tell him it’s urgent? Interrupt whatever he’s doing.”

“Yes. Also, Maynard called for you. Guess he’s not going to be too happy with the news you need to give him.”

I stilled, no he wouldn’t be. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Duke first, then Maynard,” I called to Blake, who was hot on my heels as I powered down the hallway to my office.

“Line two!” he hollered before I’d even reached my desk. I had no idea how he worked so fast.

I punched the flashing button. “Duke?”

“Hi, Holmes, what do you need?”

“I need to know this money of Maynard’s is really air-tight. I had the wife in and she, plus her lawyer, are convinced they know about it. They won’t take our offer seriously. Are you positive it can’t be found?”

There was a long, frustrated sigh on the other end. “Is this what you called me out of a meeting for? I thought it was an emergency.”

“Itisa fucking emergency,” I seethed.

“Of course the wife is going to think he has the money. It’s an enormous drop in finances. And I’m sure her lawyer is trying to convince her he’s hidden it, because that’s what he’s paid to do. It’s what we would do if we were on the opposite side. But he can think what he wants. Thinking and proving are two different things, as you should know. He’ll never prove it; he needs hard evidence, and I’m telling you now he will never ever have it.”

It was hard not to believe Duke when his tone was so commanding and final. But the niggling I’d had all week, deep in the recesses of my gut and prodding at my conscience, told me I knew better. Because I knew Rafe Latham. But as Duke was never going to listen to me, and it wasn’t something I could tangibly explain, this was a pointless conversation.

“Okay, thanks. Go back to your meeting,” I told him, then hung up before he could punch out a snide remark.

One down. That left one to go.

“Blake,” I shouted into the hallway, “can you return Maynard?”

While I waited for him to connect, I thanked God I wasn’t having to deal with him in person, which was about the only saving grace for this entire wretched case.

Rafe had been spot-on when he called him revolting. Johnson Maynard was one of those billionaires whose teeth were a little too white, skin a little too leathery from all the time spent in the sun, and from the one time I did meet him in person, his breath was so musty from the months of Keto he’d been on that I had to hold my own for fear of breathing his in and passing out.

“Line One!” Blake called back.

“Mr. Maynard, it’s Beulah Holmes.”

“Have we settled?” he barked.

“No, sir, unfortunately not. Your wife wasn’t happy with the settlement terms. Her lawyer…”

“Her fucking lawyer is not the one I’m divorcing! Your job is to get my wife to agree to the offer on the table.”

I tried to control the bite I knew my tone would take if I let it. “Yes, sir, I know. However as it stands, our offer isn’t high enough. They’re asking for seven hundred and fifty million dollars, so I suggest we up what we’ve put on the table to fifty million...”

“No!” he barked again, but loud enough that I jumped up and shut the door incase anyone else heard me being reamed out by a client. “I am not adding another cent. I’ve already agreed to the house. Do your job, Holmes, or I will have you replaced. Do you understand? Do your fucking job! And don’t call me again until the papers are signed!”

I put my head down on the desk as the line went dead.

How the fuck was I in this position, taking orders from someone who belonged in jail?

And how the fuck was I going to get this divorce settled? Maybe I should let him remove me.

The door creaked open, and I knew Blake was standing there without me looking up.

“That didn’t go well then?”

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