Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(3)

“What is it this time? An actor needs representation because his wife slapped him with a divorce after he was caught cheating with their nanny?”

“Not quite, but good guess,” he said, his smile turning somewhat serious. “I need you to represent Nicole in her divorce.”

I blinked. What? No. I shook my head and swallowed loudly. It wasn’t often I was at a loss for words, but this was just . . .

“She’s getting a divorce?”

“Yes, and obviously I can’t be her attorney, so I wanted her to get the next best thing.”

Me. The next best thing. That in itself was high praise from William.

I closed my eyes momentarily, but the only thing I could visualize was the day she’d come in here and Will had introduced her as his daughter. Suddenly, I wanted the world to swallow me whole. It might as well have since I already felt like my career was beginning to sink as the memories of her and me in a bathroom stall at one of LA’s most popular nightclubs choked me, and I barely got an audible nice to meet you out. She’d smiled, like it was no big deal, but the blush that crept over her face and neck had said differently. The way her eyes widened at the sight of me, as if her vision had to adjust to what I looked like in real life, outside of the dark club and dimly lit bathroom. And how that memory rushed through my body and to my cock when she came back the following week and started to flirt with me.

I’d promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with her then, but from one second to another, Nicole’s tanned legs were spread open in front of me on this very desk, and I became addicted to the way she threw her head back and said my name with that slight Spanish accent, regardless of what I did to her body. I swallowed, cleared my throat, and took a deep breath.

“I can’t do it,” I managed to say.

“Is this about the Sam Weaver case? If you want to take on less, you can give that one to Bobby. I want you for Nicole.”

I want you for Nicole.

Nicole, who I knew the first time I laid eyes on her could be my downfall. Nicole, whose blue eyes held wicked promise every time she looked at me. Nicole, who had sworn she was completely against marriage, an oath I disputed when the tabloids dropped the bomb of her engagement. Nicole, who weaved some powerful shit with her wild streak and funny comments, rivaling anything that came out of my mouth. Nicole, whose f*cking mouth was made by the gods for the gods and hadn’t been anywhere near me for at least five years. I breathed out a heavy breath, trying to rid myself of all things Nicole. He had no idea what he was asking of me.

“Did she request me?”

“No. She doesn’t know yet. She should be here shortly. I wanted to give you a heads-up first. But, Victor, you do this, you do right by her, and then I’ll make you partner.”

Fuck. My. Life. That word was too tantalizing to f*ck around with. Partner. It was the sole reason I was billing so many damn hours.

“Okay.”

“You’ll do it?”

“Yes.”

Now I just had to make sure I didn’t do her and lose my goddamn license in the process.





“DIVORCE SUCKS,” I said for what seemed like the millionth time since this whole ordeal started. Not that I needed to reiterate that for anybody. People didn’t get married thinking they’d ever divorce. Being the product of a divorced household, and a father as a divorce attorney, I never saw myself getting a divorce. I always swore that if I got married it would be forever, but that was before the promise of forever became dreary and cold. It was before the word itself made me want to curl up into a ball whenever I thought of my estranged husband hitting the bottle or those pills he’d been partial to for the past two years. It was before shit went down the drain, basically. And that’s how I found myself talking to the hot new security detail my soon-to-be ex-husband assigned me.

“Are you ready?” Marcus asked. Marcus. Even his name was f*cking hot. The first time I saw him I wondered if Gabe’s manager had picked him out on purpose, maybe to see if I’d cozy up to him and leave Gabe alone. Or cozy up to him and have something to hold over my head in this divorce.

“He’s so full of himself, you know?” I said in response. Marcus’s brown eyes flickered to mine in the rearview mirror, holding absolutely no amusement.

“Pardon?”

“Gabriel. He’s full of himself. He thinks hiring a hot bodyguard is going to lessen the blow of the divorce. Let me tell you something, Marcus. I’m the one dealing with all this divorce crap. Me. I’m the one visiting lawyers and trying to sort things out quietly for his sake. You know why? Not because I’m a great human being, but because I still have feelings and he’s a grade-A prick. Having a hot driver isn’t going to make me forget that.”

Marcus’s light-blond eyebrows shot up in surprise momentarily. I wasn’t sure if I was glad for his silence as he let me get that off my chest or pissed off that he had absolutely nothing to add to my rant. I hated when people didn’t rant with me.

“I don’t know him personally, and he’s paying me, so I’m not sure what to say to that,” he said. “Knock on the window when you’re ready to get out.” He opened his door and stepped into the swarm of paparazzi awaiting my arrival.

I was sure they were hoping they’d catch a glimpse of me crying. They would have to set up a tent outside my bedroom window in order to get that shot. I gathered my thoughts as I watched Marcus round the front of the car. As promised, he stood beside my door with his back toward me. I smoothed my hair and took a deep breath as I looked out into the crowd of photographers.