Chapter 5
(Lawyer's Office pictured above)
Saville's POV:
Waking up I was startled to find the very-early morning sunlight peaking through bedroom windows I didn't know. Just as I awoke, my last night rushed back to my memory. Turning over in bed, I saw the Man that had fucked me just a few hours ago, fast asleep. He looked even more gorgeous while he slept, his dominating aura slipped away, and he looked sweet and almost funny.
Suddenly my eyes filled with tears and I quickly rushed out of bed soundlessly, and found the bathroom instantly. Taking a few deep breaths, I forced my tears back down and the ache in my heart away. Peeing quickly, I looked into the mirror in shock. My neck was covered in hickies, splotches of red and purple trailed down my chest. Several bruises laid on my hips, while I had red rings around my wrist from the restraints.
More tears pooled in my eyes, and this time, I couldn't keep them from falling. Last night flashed across my eyes slowly and it only proved to make me more upset. I thought last night that going home with someone would make my marriage problems simpler. Maybe doing what my husband did...cheat...would make me feel better. But it didn't. Shocker!
I couldn't hurt him the way he had hurt me. I wasn't capable of it. I wasn't that kind of person, and so cheating, even when it didn't really matter, hurt me.
Walking out of the bathroom, I found a small piece of paper and began to write a note to the sleeping man in bed. He was a kind person. He had taken care of me, sexually, emotionally and physically. I felt the effects of his massage upon waking. His aftercare was perfect, and just knowing that he did that to me, was making me cry more.
Honey-Eyes,
I'm sorry for leaving without saying goodbye, but it would have just hurt us both more. Thank you, for everything you did... and you did do a lot for me...so thank you...
Savvy.
My note was quick, probably too quick, and it would hurt him anyway, but I couldn't think about that. I could only hope that he assumed this was a one-night stand, and thought I meant nothing.
________
"Please don't fucking ditch me again.", Finn spoke as I walked into my hotel room. Handing him a cup of coffee that I had gotten for him when I stopped at Starbucks for myself, I soon flung myself onto "my" queen-sized bed.
"I texted you. I left a note, but believe me, I'm feeling just as bad as you want me too." I replied to Finn as I laid on the bed thinking about my actions and what they meant, and really, if they meant anything.
"Why? What happened?", Finn asked in a small voice from across the room, sitting in "his" queen-sized bed.
"Nothing I didn't have coming." I mumbled, before getting up and actively trying to repel thoughts of last night in its entirety.
I took a shower in silence, letting the hot steamy water cascade down my body. The relaxation only reminded me of the massage I had received when passed out from pleasure. Every delightful and warm memory I had from last night turned dark. It reminded me that I wasn't any better than my husband, I was a cheater too.
While my marriage was awful, and I had to deal with the unending infidelity. I always knew that I wasn't like him,. I didn't do what he did, and in some small, minuscule way that made me feel good. Now, I could only say that he had pushed me to do what I did... but was that true?
Last night, the beautiful 'Honey-Eyed Man' asked me to go home, and I was going to say no, but didn't. I didn't say no, and as much as I want to blame my failing marriage, or my cheating jackass-of-a husband, I couldn't. I wanted it. I wanted to sleep with that Man, because he was sweet, he was kind but rough when I wanted. He made sure I was safe, and it made me sick to think that I could have hurt him.
Then again, being with me, would be even worse for him. I'm a hurricane, and that, that fact was on me.
Just as I felt the tears pool and my self-esteem plummet, I remembered something. A week ago, I had made an appointment with a lawyer, for today at 11am. Running out of the shower, I dressed quickly and informed Finn of the prior commitment I had made, so he quickly dressed and was following me as we left the hotel room.
An $18 dollar cab ride later, we were downtown and arriving at the large skyscraper that held the law office I was in contact with. The lobby was one of modern architecture and stunning, clean marble. We boarded the stainless-steel elevator with several people, all going to different areas in the massive office building. Flying up floor after floor was making me dizzy, as many Manhattan elevators do, due to their speed and height.
Arriving at the 58th floor, I walked towards the busy-looking, yet stunning beauty of a receptionist. She was seated at a light brown, walnut-looking desk that displayed the name of the firm.
Beckett Sloan Marx
BSM, has made a name of itself in Manhattan, and even amongst the 'glitterati'. Celebrity clients aren't anything new for big law firms, but BSM, must have twice as many as all other firms, given their reputation as cutthroat.
I liked the idea of ruthless lawyer willing to do anything to help me achieve my goals. I wanted out of my marriage, with my money, and with the fashion house I had personally funded for my Husband. If I was going to be yet-another Hollywood Divorceé, it was going to be as a savage one
"Hi, I have a 11 O'clock appointment with Anthony Beckett." I spoke to the friendly looking receptionist.
"Yes, there has been a slight change if you don't mind. Mr. Beckett has actually referred you to another name-partner at the firm. You'll be seeing Mr. Marx, as he specializes in your type of case." She explained, before standing from her desk and coming around it.
"I don't mind at all, where is his office?" I ask, before she tells us that she will take us there. For a law office, it seems like a very modern and efficient place.
On our walk to Mr. Marx's office, the receptionist, Kelly had properly introduced us. She settled us into the office, and informed me that Mr. Marx would be along in a few minutes as he was dealing with an emergency in the next room.
It wasn't a particularly long time, but during it, I looked around the Man's office from my seat. His desk was clean of clutter, had a MacBook set up, yet closed. One picture frame, and a few knickknacks to make it look less plain. Finn wasn't much for making conversation as he typed away on his phone. As my assistant, I assumed he was handling things for me, so I continued to look around.
The office was beautiful, a corner space with two walls of complete glass with shades that could come down. One wall was complete with shelves that held law books, as well as a few pieces of decor. There was a leather couch, two club chairs and a coffee table. He had a bar cart filled with what I assumed to be bourbon, scotch, vodka and mixing tools. As, I was getting bored of looking around, I heard the glass door to the office open and Mr. Marx walk in.
He was tall, almost excessively, topping at almost 6'4" I would say. His tailored suit was a beautiful black, fitted, yet not tight. A plain, black stainless steel pin held his tie in place. His suit jacket opened as he sat down at his desk and looked up at his clients. The tamed scruff. The dark-brown, almost black hair. And the slight crows-feet around the now-dark Honey-Colored Eyes.
The Honey Eyed Man
"Finn, please excuse us.", I cut Mr. Marx off before he could speak. Looking at Finn, he peaked up from his phone and smiled small and politely before nodding a bit and exiting the room.
Standing from my seat, I moved across the room to the bar cart and began pouring a glass of scotch into a Rocks Glass. Looking over at the Honey-Eyed Man, I raised my eyebrows and looked back at the alcohol, as to ask him if he wanted one. He nodded stiffly, smirking at me the whole time. Ignoring it, I poured his drink and went back to my previous seat across from him. Sliding him his Scotch across his desk, he continued to smirk before speaking.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't my pupp...", He started before I cut him off curtly.
"Please don't call me that. Can we please not mention this. If not, I would be more than happy to see Mr.Beckett." I interrupted and explained.
"If that's what you would like." He replied before asking me about my case. Internally I could only scream, but on the outside, I sucked it up, drank my scotch in one gulp before replying.
"I'd like to divorce my Husband; and I would like his business as well. I bankrolled it, and I want it" I explained to his obvious reaction, that he tried and kept understated.
"Well, that is something I would have to look into. Since I know your a resident of California, you would need a lawyer from there, but I can give you advice on how to continue and what to discuss with them, when you return home." Mr. Marx spoke, before he started to open his laptop and discuss the particulars of my case.
After an hour, of which had my head spinning. Just looking at his eyes and face brought me a level of unease that shook me. He was professional and understanding to my case, and the personal details of my life. The advice of his counsel and recommendations made a lot of sense and gave me a sliver of hope for my future.
I shook his hand, and went to walk for the door before I heard him speak.
"Your note did hurt." He spoke. My body facing away from him, I grimaced in pain.
"I'm very sorry for that. It was a mistake. I never should of done what I did." I tried to explain, from over my shoulder. My hand stayed on his office door handle, getting increasingly sweaty.
"I apologize. And I'm very sorry that you regret it." Mr. Marx spoke, only pulling on my heart as I spoke.
"I didn't regret it. I just... it's best for you to stay away from me. I'm... I'm not... I'm just not." I completely realized that I made zero sense but the tears pooling in my eyes were distracting me.
"If it makes you feel any better... I'm married as well. I'm very sorry that yours has come to such a point. If you ever need to talk, or just want a friend... Feel free to call me... puppy." He spoke the last word in such a low tone... yet it broke my heart all the same.
I raced out of the room.
He was married!
What?
How fucked up do I have to be to fall for someone married?
Wait!
Wait!
No. No. I can't have actual feelings for him. That can't be possible. I've known him for all of two minutes and it didn't mean anything. It didn't. No!
Fleeing his office, I flew past the reception desk, and past the waiting area that Finn was in. I didn't stop walking, despite hearing Finn's calls, until I got into the elevator. My assistant rushed into the metal box quickly and found me with tears in my eyes.
Pushing them down, I put on my stone-front I used with everyone. Paparazzi, interviews, friends, family... I put my mask back on, and let the wet tear on my cheek dry.
"Are you...?" Finn began to ask.
"Don't even finish that sentence." I spoke with finality, before pressing the Lobby button and watching the doors close, in more ways then one.
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