"Should I bring something to drink?" Leslie offers out of her usual courtesy.
"No, Leslie. Thanks." I smile tightly at her, purposefully ignoring the galling stare caught at the corner of my eye.
Derek Kingston smirks.
"Okay. I'll leave you two." Leslie flounces out.
Derek clears his throat, a bit dramatically. "But I thought I could use a cup of coffee. Shame." He's striding nonchalantly toward my desk, hardly wearing any perfume to irritate my overly sensitive nostrils thanks to the HCG hormones running in my body.
I nearly smirk in response. "Not gonna happen, unless I poison it first. Trust me, the temptation is real."
"Wow." He rumbles a laugh and it's creepy coming from him, because he always wears a charming look that can shift into something dark and merciless in the blink of an eye.
I don't know him that well, but his reputation precedes him.
What the fuck is he doing here anyway? Derek Kingston and I have been a couple of very few words. I hardly recall the last conversation I had with him, because we have absolutely nothing to talk about—except the slap I gave him several years ago.
Calling me a gold digger, proposing to give me whatever his old man offers me if money is why I married his dad's for. He became my real pain in the ass since then and I can think of one thing to justify his disfavor of me. His family's fortune.
Or his mom's place that I took away by marrying Patrick?
I don't know.
He glances around my office, as if he's trying to find some faults on the elegant walls. And he stops in front of a large mosaic painting hanging near the seating area, subjects him into stillness for a few moments until he glances at me over his shoulder.
"Neil Ortega. My dad's favorite local. Was it a gift from him?" he asks, talking about the painting.
"A personal purchase," I reply crisply.
"I see." Nothing registers on his cold dusky gray eyes as he resumes his attention back to me, his gaze icicle and shrewd.
Just like his father, he has his own fancy taste in suits. He's wearing one now, full black from head to toe, accessorized by Tiffany & Co. from his leathal watch to the silver necklace. His copper hair looks shiny and glossy, parted at one side, and his face is adorned with a goatee beard.
He's good looking. Genes never lie. He's a Kingston, after all, and it runs in the family. But it doesn't change my clear distaste over his presence. Just a glance at him and anger plummets inside me at the thought of Anne's death and the unpleasantries prior.
"Mind telling me why you're here?" I disrupt my own thoughts by reclining back in my seat like the lady boss I am.
He pulls a chair and graces himself to the comfort of my furniture. "Just to see an interesting woman who's caught my uttermost attention recently," he says flatly, a bit of humor in his voice. Eyes glinting, he casually adds, "Now I think I get why the old man is insane over you. You're intriguing, Mia. And all the way I thought you're just there to warm his bed at night and . . ." His voice trails as he drops his gaze on my chest.
My breath intensifies but I hold myself together at the reminder of Raiden Junior in my womb. No stress, Mia. Be cool. I sigh.
"Why are you here, Derek? I suppose I could listen to your sweet compliments the whole afternoon but I'm a busy woman to grant you such privilege," I tell him dryly, my lunch meeting with the lawyer still on my head's alarm.
Not enough time to entertain an enemy.
"You don't allow defeat easily, do you?" That merciless look is on now, creeping his eyes from dawn to dusk like a creature of the night. A bloodsucker. He leans over the table, jaw clenched, teeth gritted. "You're the reason why she's dead so it's only natural that you paid for it. Don't you think so? You put her in the fridge, Mia, and they're gonna bury her tomorrow."
"You're the murderer here, you asshole!" I boom.
How dare he speak about Anne to me! I hate it.
He erupts into a mirthful laugh before replying, "Murder her? Me? Do you have proof?"
Of course it's him. Motherfucker! A tight quiver runs through my stomach that I may want to throw up anytime now.
"It's always the guilty ones who respond like that! Why did you do that to her?" Even if Anne and I weren't bosom buddies at the end, she's still someone I hold sentiments for. I don't wish to see in a coffin, pale and cold. "Because you thought she'd expose you if they catch her? Is that it?" My eyes burn in faint tears.
"I'd call you smart but you're just nosy! I'm here to warn you to stay out of my business if you don't want to follow her footsteps!" he growls without compassion in his voice.
Yeah I ought to be scared, but I'm adamantly not afraid of him.
I'm his dad's trophy. Children don't play with a King's crown, even if they're inherently entitled. I've learned to understand my immunity against him, but I know my limits too, as far as my current relationship with Patrick is concerned.
He's no longer my shield if he was ready to send me to prison.
"You killed her and you expected me to pay for it?" I stifle a laugh, caring so little about his blood shot eyes smeared with anger. "Well, newsflash. Here I am, Derek. A free woman. And for your information, I'm not Anne Scott who dances to your tunes in exchange for a few pennies and dick pleasure. You started a war with me so don't expect me to retreat while you attack in the back! Bloody coward!"
His eyes harden. "Stop snooping around my business, Mia, or else you'll be sorry. I won't give a fuck that you're my dad's little woman if you dare mess with my affairs—you hear me?"
"Then back off mine first!" I bolt up from my seat and bang my hands on the table, tired of his plaguy threats. "I know all about your involvement with Anne and how you two enjoyed ruining my business! But I'm warning you now. If anything happens to me or to my company, I'm gonna take you all down with me. Even if it's in my grave. I'll destroy each one of you and it'll be in one big blow that you'll never forget!"
The vein of his neck stiffens and roughly he loosens his necktie, eyes on me. "What are you talking about?" he demands sternly, red alarm in his eyes.
Before I respond my phone buzzes. I disregard his curiously inquisitive eyes by grabbing my mobile. It's Luca. I frown and answer at the same time.
"You good, little Madam? Do you need me over?" he asks desperately.
"I'm good." My eyes are still on Derek's, whose patience is running thin as he's now up to his feet gazing levelly at me. "Don't worry. I got this." I hang up.
So he's around keeping tabs. Red, you bastard! I mentally huff.
"What can you possibly do to take us down, huh?" He seems amused, but I can see a weaver of confidence through his eyes.
"Try me and you'll see." I don't miss a single blink of his sharp eyes. "If you want me off your neck, then leave me alone! You do know who has much to lose between us, don't you? I don't think you're ready to see the great Kingston empire crumble to pieces when the whole world knows about your shadiness!"
His eyes crinkle and I've managed to stir him a big deal. "Are you threatening me?"
"You can call it however you want, Derek. Just beware that I'm not a pushover!"
"What is it that you know, Mia?" he asks.
"The fact that I want you out of my office right now?" I retort. His mouth twists with rage. "If I punch this button the security guards will be here to drag you out. I think you're too fancy to leave in such a style, Derek, no?" My hand is on the tiny security gadget installed under my desk.
Derek breaks into a sardonic laugh, as if a switch of insanity has just flicked inside him. He gently rubs his thumb over his chin, a look of interest on me.
"I'm getting more fascinated by you, not gonna lie," he says quietly. I crease a sly eyebrow at him and his eyes fondle my facial features for a while, from my eyes to my lips, and a ghost of a smile stretches his lips. "Fine. I stay out of your business, and you stay out of mine. Is it a deal?" His outstretched hand reaches before me, demanding a handshake.
"I don't make deals with the devil, but I know I'm a woman of my words." I sit down, ignoring his hand as if I haven't seen it.
Another laugh leaves him as he closes his fingers into a tight fist until his knuckles turn white. I press random buttons on my laptop as a sign of him to shoo off.
"Okay. Have a good day, Mia. I hope to see you around in the 30th Anniversary of the Kingston reign. Family should stick together, don't you think?"
Family, my ass! I roll my eyes.
***
Hilary Meyers is a woman of charisma at the very first sight of her. A white pantsuit and black stilettos make her strikingly feminine as she rises from her seat to give me a smooth hug. She's older than me, probably my mom's age, and very gorgeous.
"I was just checking you on the internet, and what's funny is that I'm a good client of yours, but I just didn't know I'm wearing you." She smiles cordially at me as she says this.
I flush at the warmth she brings out. "My pleasure. And I'm glad you're acquainted with my brand."
We take our seats. It's a small but fancy waterfront restaurant. It's a bright afternoon, and I'm filled with positive energy despite Derek's visit.
Hilary tucks her brunette bangs off her forehead, revealing the fairness of her skin. Her thin lips are coated with pink lipstick she's wearing, her makeup light and flawless.
"Kenna told me some things but I needed to hear more from you," she says casually.
A gold band on her ring finger beams as she interlocks her hands on the table. Married.
"I'm here for that." I sit cross-legged, elbows on the table.
The waiter brings the menu and we both check our picks. Hilary asks whether I'm sure about this divorce, afterwards, and my answer is as clear as a crystal ball. I need it. And the sooner the better.
"Okay, Mia. From everything you've told me, I gather that your husband is not willing to settle for this, is he?" she quizzes, and at the waiter she says, "Clam noodles, please. Spicy."
"You got it right. He'll never agree with it, according to him," I answer.
She sighs, bright green eyes studying me carefully. "In that case it's gonna be an intense lawsuit. Well, I've seen some news on the tabloids about the recent scandal involving Anne Scott and you. My guess, it's one of the reasons why you want the divorce now?"
Indeed. And many other offenses. I'm going to need proof of Patrick's infidelity as one of the driving forces for my need to end my marriage, says Hilary. Just why does it have to be so complex? Can't anyone leave without a fuss when they fall out of love?
"It's simply because sometimes couples grow tired of each other, but only because of routines," Hilary explains. "You see his face when you sleep, and you see it again when you wake up. Every single day, unless he travels. Lucky you if he does."
We both laugh.
"Trust me, I know all about that, Hillary," I tell her. "But that's not the case here. I seriously want to end this chapter of my life and start afresh. A lot has happened and I'm done thinking that I can endure another lifetime with him. Not anymore."
We talk a lot. She asks, I answer. And in the end she accepts my case and promises to start over right away.
"You share properties? This is another difficult part of handling divorce suits for people of your profile, unless you two had a prenup," she asks.
I inhale sharply. "Well, not really. The only thing we co-own is the house we lived in. Every other thing is either on his name or mine. We never had a prenup either, and to put things clearly, I don't need anything from this divorce so there won't be a property division."
"I'm surprised," Hilary says after a brief chuckle, blinking rapidly at my statement. "You are entitled to an alimony, Mia—are you sure you don't want anything?"
"If I drag a property lawsuit this will take forever. I know this much. I have a few shares in his company, some given by him, and some but I bought them myself. Well, I'll simply sell them when I have to," I reply and she nods.
My only concern is that country house in Astoria and other properties in Paris and Louisiana. I put some under my mom's name but I wonder if the ones under my name will be enlisted in the shared properties.
"Don't stress, Mia. Some things can be negotiated," Hilary utters. "Your husband is a prominent businessman and I'm sure he wouldn't want to get entangled in this mess either. Trust me, I know how that works even though I'm still surprised that you want nothing out of him."
I certainly don't.
Our food arrives and more conversation flows. My meeting with Hilary turns out rather wonderfully. I feel in safe hands already. We leave soon after lunch and I'm all hoping this goes well. I need my freedom back.
As the Lexus pulls over I suddenly feel the urge to buy a new car. Another Lexus? No, I need something cheeky and eye-catching to soothe my fluctuating moods. I smile from ear to ear, gripping the door handle to finally slip in.
"Hope I didn't take too long. You had lunch?" I ask Bill.
"I'm having it right now. Thanks for sneaking out on me this morning; it was lovely waking up on an empty bed!" A mouthful man speaking.
"Red?" I crinkle my nose, and the scent of chicken burger spreads in the car.
"Yes, Madam. Where do I take you next?" He's chewing his burger, giving me a cold stare.
I roll my eyes and pull my seatbelt. "I'm pretty sure you're fired, Mister. What are you doing here?"
He scoffs as the engine starts. "Yes, I'm fired as your bodyguard, Madam. But I'm here as a father to my child and no one can fire me from that. You going back to MK?" he asks, eyes on rearview.
Father to his child? Heat sears through me at his sexy proclamation.
"Yes, please," I answer with a smile. "A burger for me?"
Red scowls. "Food monger already? You're not having a battalion of men in your womb, are you?"
"Shut up!" I try so hard not to laugh. I couldn't finish my noodles and I don't know why. But now I want that chicken burger. "Are you giving me or not?"
He sighs heavily before turning around with a huge MacDonald wrap. "Here. As long as you finish it."