Page 86 of The Honest Affair

He smiled, feeling his entire chest balloon with relief and pride.

And so they went on, down the list of charges, one after another. Gardner did his best to maintain a placid expression, but inside, he howled with victory. He had won. He had won, in spite of those fucking threats from Janus and the clout that Eric de Vries thought he had over this goddamn city. Blackmailing the judge had been a last-minute effort, but it had paid off in the end when he had tossed out more than half the prosecution’s evidence. Certain types of men couldn’t say no to underage pussy, and this one was no different. It had been a risk—a huge risk.

“Congratulations,” said Clyde, turning to Gardner with an outstretched hand.

Of course the smug fucker was happy. He’d practically bankrupted Gardner in the process of this trial. But freedom was better than jail, even with nothing to his name. For now.

“And the restraining order?” Puffed with satisfaction, Gardner watched his wife stand, white-faced.

Clyde smiled, revealing a row of stained, horsey teeth. “She was only able to have it extended through the trial. As of now, you’re a free man.”

“Not free yet. Now you need to get me my money.”

“Our money,” said Clyde. “There’s the matter of that settlement de Vries offered, too. We need to talk about that. Harvey doesn’t think you’ll get any more. And I don’t have to remind you of your bill, Mr. Gardner.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Gardner said distractedly as he watched Nina making her escape. Beyond the doors was a hoard of photographers, already shouting her name. New York’s princess, foiled again.

He squinted his eyes and stood. He had a few things to say to her. Things he’d been saving up over the past few months. Things that no longer had to wait.

“I’ll meet him back at the office in an hour,” he told Clyde. “Thanks again. Really.”

Abandoning the lawyer’s proffered hand, he shoved his way out of the courtroom and tracked Nina down the hall, shoving his way through the throng of reporters who all shouted his name too.

“Mr. Gardner!”

“Calvin!”

“How do you feel about the verdict!”

“Will this affect your divorce with Mrs. Gardner?”

“Get the hell out of my way,” he snapped, shoving the closest photographer hard enough that he nearly fell down the steps. The rest fell back. Typical. Shove one, the rest fall, like bowling pins. Sheep.

He spotted her across the street, purchasing some iced tea from a street cart vendor. As soon as she spotted him, her large eyes widened even more, and she shoved a bill at the vendor and darted away. Was she—was she really headed toward the subway in her pristine white coat? His wife? Nina?

“Nina!” he shouted after her. “You might as well turn around, princess. You know I won’t give up.”

Goddammit it, he really hated to run. Thankfully, she stopped, whirling around with sudden fury.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” she snapped.

“Hello, princess,” he said. “Nice to see you, too.”

“You are not supposed to talk to me. Go away, Calvin, before you get into more trouble.”

She glanced around nervously. Gardner tried not to smile, then decided not to bother. He always did enjoy the way he made her scare like this.

“I’m not doing anything wrong. Your little restraining order expired at the end of the trial. That’s today, in case you missed it. Which means I’m free to see you as much as I want. And Olivia, come to think of it,” he added, unable to help himself.

He really did love seeing her squirm whenever he mentioned her waifish daughter. Honestly, the kid always gave him the creeps, with those huge dark eyes of hers that seemed to see right through him.

But she didn’t squirm. Instead, she straightened to her full, irritatingly tall height. Gardner was thankful he had worn lifts today, but that still put him an inch or two below her when she was in heels. Fuck.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “You’ll leave Olivia and me alone, Calvin. You won’t have a reason to see her anymore anyway.”

“And why’s that?” he asked. “She is my daughter, after all.”

Again, to his disappointment, she didn’t squirm. If anything, his normally demure wife looked about ready to hit him. God, what had she been doing the last six months?

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