“Stanton.” She lowers the sleeve and covers the discoloration. “There are usually more, but nobody knows. He’s very careful.”
“So call the
cops. Domestic abuse is more than enough to divorce him and clean him out.”
She shakes her head. “Nobody in Chicago will help me. Stanton has a lot of influence.”
“So what? Surely you can find one decent cop.”
“And one decent attorney?”
She has a point. Lawyers in Chicago would cut off their own reproductive organs to win Stanton’s business. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”
“You’re related to Justin Sterling. Introduce me. He’s the only one who can crush Stanton in Chicago.”
“Jesus.” I rake my fingers through my hair. “Whoever told you I’m related to Justin was mistaken.”
“He’s your cousin’s husband.”
“Vanessa isn’t my cousin. She’s Ryder’s cousin.”
“Same difference. You and Ryder are close. He’ll introduce you to her if you ask.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, she’s on the Pryce side of the family. They aren’t exactly crazy about my mother.” Geraldine Pryce, Dad’s Wife Number One, absolutely abhors my mother, who happened to be Wife Number Two. “You’re better off running into Justin at some party instead.”
“I can’t. He’s rarely in Chicago these days. Actually I can’t remember the last time he was in town.”
Not surprising. From what I heard, his wife just delivered a baby boy. I doubt he’s going to ask her to move to Chicago any time soon. Vanessa undoubtedly has him wrapped around her impeccably manicured little finger.
I shake my head. “Nope. Can’t do anything.”
“Are you kidding me?” She glares at me. “You’re not still pissed off, are you?”
“About what?” I say, keeping my voice blasé.
“Me leaving you for your father.” She steps back, crossing her arms. “You’re still upset about it, aren’t you? Because you care.” She stares at me with defiance, daring me to deny it.
The old humiliation courses through me, and I breathe slowly. I’ll be damned if I give her any satisfaction. “I think you’re confusing ‘upset’ with ‘grateful’. Imagine what I would’ve done in my youthful rashness. I might’ve even married you without a prenup.”
A dark flush rises on her face. Dad’s an asshole, but he’s a smart asshole. After the first two wives took big bites out of his fortune, he learned the importance of having an ironclad prenup. Annabelle got nothing but the clothes in her closet when he got tired of her—which happened within a year. He didn’t even let her keep the jewelry he bought her.
“Now your five minutes is up. Good-bye, Annabelle. Don’t ever come back.” I step forward to go into my penthouse, but she doesn’t move.
“I’m not going anywhere until you promise to help.” She tilts her chin, her mouth tight. “You’re going to have to put your hands on me if you want to move me.”
There’s no way I’m doing that, especially after having seen the bruises on her. I don’t like seeing women abused, even if it’s someone I can’t stand. “Fine. I’ll leave then.” I’m not going to bother calling the police since no male officer would be able to drag her out when she pouts and thrusts her tits out.
I spin around and go inside the waiting elevator. As the doors close, I hear her growl of frustration and allow myself a bit of satisfaction.
Chapter Two
Annabelle
The right thing to do after closing the door is to go away and let Elliot deal with that brunette. But I can’t.
I stand by the door, straining to hear their conversation. They’re either talking very quietly or the penthouse has better sound proofing than I thought. I can’t hear a thing. And the brunette has the peephole blocked with the back of her head.
Giving up, I grab my coffee and drink it by the kitchen island. The caffeine finally jolts my brain awake, and the warm brew seems to thaw my body.