I wish to fuck I would have gotten her name.
Anyone who thinks they can wander around Manhattan anonymously is mistaken. I have a private investigator on my payroll. The man is the second coming of Sherlock Holmes. I know, without a doubt, that he could find the mystery woman with as little as her first name.
I don’t even have that to offer him.
I’ve tried to convince myself that I want to know who she is so I can return the watch, but it reaches far beyond that.
I want her back in my bed.
Thinking about her voice, her body, and that sound she made when she came is clouding my common sense.
I’m sitting in the courtroom with Trudy Alcester by my side and a gallery filled with reporters.
I didn’t have time to crack open the envelope Gunner left for me last night. I scooped it into my palm before I left my apartment, but it’s sitting back on the desk in my office.
I know I’ve got the facts straight unless Kurt Sufford decided to pull something out of his hat before this hearing.
I haven’t looked over at the table where he’s sitting. I sense that Kurt and his jerk of a client both have smug grins on their faces.
I heard them arrive to a chorus of applause from the gallery. It has to be the employees of Alcester Industries that Troy pays to fill several seats in the courtroom.
He did it during the first hearing we had months ago when the judge ordered the case be sent to a mediator.
Anyone who needs to bring their own cheering section to their divorce proceedings deserves to be hung up from his balls.
“All rise,” the bailiff calls out just as the clock hits nine o’clock sharp.
I stand and bow my head as he runs through his chatter about court being in session and the honorable Judge Peggy Mycella presiding over these proceedings.
I’ve been in Peggy’s courtroom enough times to know that she won’t make eye contact until she’s settled behind the bench.
She reads out the docket number, combs a hand through her short blonde bob, and takes a sip of water before she asks if we’re ready to proceed.
“Judge?” Kurt adds a high note to his voice. “If it so pleases the court, I’d like a moment to speak before we get started.”
I roll my eyes and glance over at my client. The look on her face is pure frustration. She wants this over with as quickly as I do.
Mediation got us nowhere so we’re here, facing off with her soon-to-be ex-husband in front of a courtroom filled with reporters who are looking for any sordid tidbit they can run alongside a picture of the once happy couple.
“It would please me to get through this hearing within the hour.” Judge Mycella taps her fingernails on the wooden bench. “Say what you need to say.”
“I request a continuance, your honor.”
That finally turns my head to the left.
I narrow my eyes at the sight that awaits me.
What the actual fuck?
The woman standing between Kurt and his client may be looking straight ahead, but I know that face. I stared at that profile in the car on the way to my apartment less than twelve hours ago.
She’s not wearing the black dress she had on last night. Today she’s dressed in a conservative navy blue jacket and matching skirt. Under the jacket is a white blouse. Her long hair is tied into a bun at the base of her neck.
“What the hell?” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head because I’m sure as fuck dreaming this. I have to be.
“What’s wrong?” Trudy jabs an elbow into my side. “What is Troy’s lawyer trying to pull?”
“A continuance?” The judge removes her eyeglasses and pops a brow. “Why, Mr. Sufford?”