Page 39 of The Reality of Us
She offered him a tight smile. “You don’t need to apologise. I’m not for everyone.”
“No, that’s not what I meant …” Shit. Owen squeezed his toes, his socks squelching in his shoes.
She laughed, dry and brittle. “Someone like you would never be attracted to someone like me. It’s fine. I don’t walk around thinking everyone finds me attractive. I know I’m flawed.”
How had he made this even worse?
“That’s not what I meant.” Owen planted his hands on his hips. How could he convince her without seeming like he was cracking on to her, which would be inappropriate? He hated being inappropriate. He was practically allergic to it. “You’re not …”
“Wrong?” Alice’s laugh was even more mirthless than before. “We should get out of here before you both catch a cold. You should use the shower at my place tonight.”
He couldn’t take another step until he’d cleared this up. He just couldn’t. “I don’t think you’re unattractive. You weren’t meant to hear that before. Teddy was being an ass, and I was trying to shut him up. I think you’re very—”
“Owen,” Alice snapped, raking a hand across her face. “Please stop. It’s fine.”
He was trying to figure out what to say when she climbed into his Jeep and closed the door on their conversation.
14
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Dean Malus, Owen’s old boss, said. “There are very few assets to divide. All the business contracts have already been taken care of.” He opened his leather briefcase and passed a document to Owen and the mediator, a pleasant woman in a floral blouse and pearls.
It took Owen a second to understand what he was looking at.
That asshole.
“There are only a few personal effects and the matter of the joint bank account to settle,” Dean continued, adjusting his frameless glasses. Phoenix picked up his phone and started scrolling.
“Personal effects? He said he didn’t want the furniture!” Alice hissed, shooting Owen an alarmed look. He resisted the urge to touch her hand—just enough to remind her she wasn’t alone. But that would be inappropriate and unwelcome given how standoffish she’d been when she first arrived. If her outfit was an indicator of her mood, today’s sequined skirt, black leggings and denim shirt sent a clear message. The warrior hair was back, too. Alice Aspinall, reality TV starlet, was in the building. Not the Alice he’d seen glimpses of over the last few weeks with her messy hair and the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.
Phoenix snorted, mumbling something about remembering what else she’d done, a smarmy grin stretching across his face.
“Ms Aspinall damaged several of Mr Storm’s guitars and other recording equipment when she cleaned out their old apartment. That’s the estimate to have it all replaced.”
“What?” Alice snatched the paper before Owen could remind her they were trying to bait her. “I didn’t … You want seventy thousand dollars? There weren’t any instruments in the apartment!”
“There’s another matter,” Dean said, sliding another piece of paper across the oak table. “The rings.”
Not this again.
“Any jewellery given on Take a Chance of Love remained the property of the production company for the two years after filming wrapped,” Owen said. “Then they became the sole property of the recipient. Alice’s rings were hers to sell. Phoenix can do whatever he likes with his.”
Alice mumbled something that sounded a lot like “tiny cock ring for his tiny penis”, which Owen chose to ignore.
“Hmmm.” His old boss fixed him with a hard stare. It was one of his trademark moves, but Owen wouldn’t bite. When he didn’t reply, Dean continued, “That’s your interpretation. Ours is different. Perhaps we could be persuaded to come around to your way of thinking and ignore the damaged equipment and instruments if Alice agreed to split the money from her rings. There’s also the matter of my client’s lost income from cancelled tours.”
Owen slid a look towards Alice. Her hands gripped the armrest of her chair, her eyelashes fluttering around watery eyes. Fuck it. She had to know he was on her side. He touched her hand, felt the warmth of her skin. Alice’s fingers wrapped around his, her breathing slowing. Her eyes flicked towards him, her cheekbones more pronounced than normal. Up so close to her, he could see the skin under her eyes was purple, her fatigue barely concealed by her make-up.
“No,” Owen monotoned. “Where’s the police report about all this damaged stuff? Insurance paperwork? If you’re going to continue with these egregious claims, then we’ll see you in court.” He stood, and yeah, he knew it was a power move but fuck them. He’d had enough. This was a waste of everyone’s time, and Alice was about to burst into tears.
Dean steepled his fingers together, shrugging. “I guess it all comes down to how quickly Ms Aspinall wants this divorce to happen. Mr Storm will only play nice for so long before he’s forced to act in his best interests.”
Owen used to tell himself he had to be competitive to win. He couldn’t be blinking every time someone tossed a threat his way. But he’d been blinded by his desire to achieve for too long and ignored too many red flags.
“Let’s pause here.” The mediator looked around the table. “These are serious allegations, Mr Storm. Do you have any supporting evidence?”
Phoenix exhaled lazily, stretching his arms out wide. “Maybe Alice was high when she did it. She likes to pretend she’s all innocent and virtuous, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.”
Owen’s first instinct was to check in on Alice, make sure she was okay. His second was to smack the smug look off Phoenix’s face.
