Page 67 of Hearts of Stone

“Bitch, you better make it the right time, because we’ve got visitors!”

“What?”

All sexy thoughts were gone now. I planted my hands on Seneca’s chest and, with some straining, I popped free.

“Chuck a dressing gown, a negligee or some jarmies, because you wanna get out here, stat.”

Slick seed ran down my thighs as I grabbed a t-shirt up off the floor and yanked it over my head, then walked to the window. I pulled the curtains back slightly and saw a contingent at the gate. Harry stood firm, not letting anyone in, but, amongst the sleek dark cars parked there and the men in suits standing around, one figure looked very familiar.

Ugh. Trevor.

“Pencil Dick is here?” I shouted, right before my jaw locked tight.

“Damn straight. Reckons he’s gonna serve you with papers.”

“For what?”

Why was I asking him? I quickly realised. Daniel was just an observer of the three ringed circus of my life. Because, of course, right when I was ready to sink into my bed and sleep the day away, my stupid ex would appear. I went into the bathroom and got cleaned up as best I could, raking a brush through my hair and pulling it back into a ponytail before flicking through the wardrobes for something to wear. No jeans this time, no t-shirts. I pulled out a sharp-looking suit and a matching cami. Pulling them on, I found they fitted me as if personally tailored to my form. Adding heels, I checked my look in the mirror and gave myself a nod before I went to the door.

“Power suit!” Daniel waved a hand in the air. “Oh god, yes, girl, that’s the perfect choice.”

He, however, was wearing a bright blue fluffy bunny onesie.

“So what the hell is going on?” I asked. “Trevor’s going to serve me papers?”

Daniel held up a two-way radio and when he pressed down the button, I heard a crackling voice come through the speaker.

“You don’t have to let me through—” Had Trevor’s voice always been this nasal or did it just sound bad in comparison to the gargoyles’ deeper tones? “But these paperswillbe delivered. We were in a defacto relationship for over ten years so that entitles me—”

I grabbed the radio out of Daniel’s hands, staring at it for just a second as I felt adrenalin go surging through me. He was going after me for money, when I’d held back from doing that when we split up? My eyes scanned the device, noting each of the nobs, before I set it down with a click and pulled out my phone. Mellors had insisted on me inputting his number the first night we met, so I found his contact easily.

“James Mellors,” he said smoothly.

“Tell me that Trevor has no claim over the Whiteley fortune,” I said without any introduction.

“That little…” Mellors quickly mastered himself. “Don’t say a thing. Don’t sign anything. I’ll be there in ten minutes at the most.”

But I wasn’t going to wait. When the line went dead, I marched down the stairs, ponytail bouncing, as Daniel shadowed me.

“You’re gonna kick his arse. You’re gonna, aren’t you? Please, PLEASE tell me you’re going to kick Pencil Dick right in those little raisins he calls balls.”

I was going to do something, because this bullshit was not going to stand.

People talk a lot about boundaries now, which I think is healthy, but sometimes I think there’s a piece missing to the ‘you need to be clear about your boundaries’ discussion. If you’d have told me, when I first left home, that in ten years’ time I’d be living with my adulterous ex, and pulling a pillow over my head as he screwed his paralegal in our bedroom, I’d have thought you were on crack. But that’s what had happened and that gave me some insight into what women all over the world were forced to deal with: in situations they didn’t deserve, made to put up with shit no one should have to. And all because of situations where they were financially dependent on someone else, suffered the toll of emotional, physical or sexual abuse, poverty, or were even socialised into believing that being abused was the right thing, so that sometimes it felt hopeless for them to want anything more.

But that was not going to be my lot in life.

I strode down the central footpath, seeing the small crowd waiting for me and that even Sala-mala-ding-dong was waiting by the car, no doubt in a professional capacity, to assist Trevor.

Fine.

The bigger audience the better.

“Look, mate, you can wave your fancy bits of paper round all you like,” Harry drawled. “But you’re not getting in, not without Jade saying so.”

“Yeah, well, then I’ll talk to her myself.” Trevor puffed himself up in his expensive suit, but the fact he had to do that at all revealed what a very, very small man he was. His eyes shone in the way they always did when he thought he had someone on the back foot, but I was about to correct the assumption. “Jade—”

“You’re here because now that I have money, you think you’re going to get your cut,” I said flatly, not moving to open the gate, just standing a small distance away to look him up and down.

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