Page 18 of Her Billionaire Bargain (Kensington Square)

Which I was doing a fucking lot since I was so out of my depth here, I didn’t even pretend otherwise.

We were in the master bathroom—the fifth full bathroom—when she asked me what I thought about matte black fixtures and if I wanted a soaking tub along with a standalone shower.

“I don’t really have a preference. Do I have to? I mean, I’m a shower guy. That deal over there looks nice, I guess,” I gestured to the claw-footed vintage tub that had been here when I moved in, “but I’m single. I don’t have anyone chilling in there with AirPods and champagne, so what’s the point?”

She poised with her pen over her pad and angled her head as if I was a truly fascinating subject. “So, you don’t have women over. Or men,” she added. “Whichever your poison is.”

“Women, but no, not usually. My house is sacrosanct and usually exempt from sleepovers.”

“But not from work parties?”

“That was a…miscalculation. Ever since my father retired and my brother left to start his new firm with Bishop, I’ve been treading water. The party was supposed to solidify my status as the new head of Shaw Law Firm, LLC.”

She went back to making notes, probably more about pendant lighting. That seemed to be one of her fascinations. “So, how did that lead to me?”

“I’m living a lie, Shelby.”

That made her head come up. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not. My brother decided he didn’t want to be a divorce attorney anymore so he quit to make baskets with Bishop.”

Her lips twitched. “You forget I decorated their office. I saw no baskets being weaved.”

I waved a hand. “Fine, hyperbole. I’m just saying. It seems like people can only enjoy litigating high-profile divorces for so long. You can only wade into the muck and mud for so long over who gets custody of Piper the poodle and the beach house in Tahiti and three luxury cars.”

“Some people have no trouble doing it forever. My attorney seemed to have no trouble. Though the only major thing at stake in mine was my child.”

“Who was your divorce attorney?”

Her expression clouded. “Eli Turner.”

I slapped my thigh. “No fucking way.”

“Yes, way. Why?”

“I may see if he still wants to join my firm. What did you think of him?”

“He was fine.”

“There’s a ringing endorsement.”

“I don’t think it was about him as much as about my ex’s power. He got what he wanted.”

“What did he want?”

“Basically, not to give me anything, including support, in exchange for not trying to get custody of Berry. He knew I’d lose.”

“Wait a second. He doesn’t support his own kid?”

“He pays the minimum stipulated by law in exchange for not requesting any visitation.”

“I knew he was a prick.”

Even more so than I’d guessed. Holy shit.

“Can’t argue there.”

I swore ripely and rose to pace around the large bathroom. Bob ambled in and trotted forward to get pets from Shelby then turned tail and waddled out again.

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