Page 105 of Love on Ice

Meadow’s eyes widen. “Is that whose wedding it was? I couldn’t remember. Wait, you said was supposed to get married.” I nod. “Shit, tell me everything.”

“Pierre is now one of our clients,” I explain to her.

“He is?”

I nod. “You and I will be handling this. It’s a delicate matter.”

“He was caught boning one of the bridesmaids?” she asks.

“If only, unfortunately, I had the misfortune of being there with him when we found his fiancée getting screwed in the villa’s gardens by none other than Bill Reeve.”

“He’s like sixty-something.” Meadow gasps.

“And a billionaire. A supposedly happily married, billionaire who owns Pierre’s team.”

“And a villa in Tuscany.”

Huh? “What did you say?” I ask.

“I remember seeing an interview with him walking around a villa in Tuscany.”

“No. Kitty couldn’t possibly be getting married in his villa? That’s messed up.” I gasp.

“Would save a heap of money. Maybe Bill offered, and Pierre thought sure, why not. Everyone loves a bargain,” Meadow adds.

“That’s messed up.” I quickly type away on my phone searching for images of Bill’s home. “You’re right,” I say, turning my phone around and showing her the images. “That’s where we just were. If he offered her his villa this affair must have been going on for ages. Like you plan weddings years in advance, don’t you?”

“I think so,” Meadow adds. “So, Kitty Hutchinson is a gold digger. Don’t tell me she banged him in exchange for using his villa?”

“People have done worse for less,” I add.

Meadow plays on her phone. “She probably did it for a Birkin, too. Why else would a young woman be banging a senior citizen when she has a young, hot, hockey player in her bed,” Meadow states. “Knew it,” she says, turning her phone around. “A year ago, she showed off buying herself a Birkin bag. That bag isn’t cheap either, it’s like seventy grand. Oh, and only recently, she talked about getting a Ferrari with the money she makes from modeling. We know she isn’t that in demand.”

“You think Bill’s being buying her all that stuff?”

“Unless Pierre has been. I don’t know how much hockey players make.” Meadow shrugs.

“I asked Felix earlier, he said between five to twenty million a year for the elite ones,” I tell her.

Meadow whistles. “Who knew those hockey men were so cashed up? So, it makes no sense why Kitty would throw it all away for some old guy?”

“I had to go through Pierre’s messages last night on the plane, he gave me access to his phone to deal with it. Kitty is a bitch. The things she was saying as she was melting down were horrendous. I sent a message back saying to tell everyone there was a family emergency, and he had to go back to Canada, or he would release the footage he had of her and Bill. She really lost it, but she seems to have kept her word judging by the media posts that are now coming through.”

“At least she’s got some sense,” Meadow says.

“Now we hope Bill has the same kind of sense and lets Pierre out of his contract. He wants nothing to do with the team, but he still has two years left. While we were on the plane, he spoke to his lawyer and agent and told them he wants them to pay outhis contract and let him be a free agent. He wants to stay in New York with his family,” I explain.

“Seems fair, but is it doable to let him out of his contract?” she asks.

“It is if Bill doesn’t want his wife to find out about his little side piece,” I tell her.

“You don’t think the wife already knows? These billionaire men are going to do whatever the hell they want.”

This is true. “I’m hoping she doesn’t, so we have leverage.”

My front door opens, that must be Issy and Pierre. Moments later, they both appear, stoney faced with cups of coffee in their hands.

“Morning,” I say cheerily. They both grunt at me.

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