Fucking her at her apartment did not pull her out of my system like I’d hoped. If anything, it sank me deeper, which is quickly becoming dangerous. For the moment, though, it paid off in spades.
I snap a quick shot of my dick in my hand, painfully thread it back into my pants, and send it to Kate with a quick note:
David is here. Thinking of you.
She’ll probably hate me for it. Women are so finicky about the dick pick. If they’re horny, they’re happy for it. If they aren’t, they get pissed. It’s walking a fine line I don’t usually have time to figure out.
David turns and gives me a thumbs up and goes back to pacing, along with a series of hand motions I assume is supposed to let me know he’s wrapping up soon. My hate for this guy grows daily.
He finally says goodbye and plops back in my chair just as my phone lights up. I grab it before he can look and have to steady myself. Kate sent back a picture of her draped in nothing but a towel, a little leg poking out. It is one of the sexiest poses I’ve seen her in.
“What’s so good over there?” David asks, leaning in. He’s like a goddamn dog with a nose that can sniff smut out.
“Oh, nothing. Some sex tape news about that hotel heiress—”
“London Holton? Eric, that girl can lay down some pussy. We were in Verona once for a shoot.”
He launches into his story and it takes all I have to not hurl my phone in his face. Instead, I flick my dick under my desk until the erection dies. This whole thing is a goddamn nightmare and it’s all his fault.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
KATE
Vivian’s office is probably one of my favorite places in Los Angeles, which is saying something. Her office overlooks the beach, with perfect white-capped waves as a gorgeous background to all the pleasantries we must sort through. Every time I feel overwhelmed, I stand by a window and just take it all in: the rolling waves, the birds flying by, the perfect blue skies.
Everything isn’t so bad when you’re on the beach. Even if you’re on the beach to discuss a divorce from a sadistic, womanizing, manipulative manwhore. Look at the sand and feel better.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Vivian concludes, scribbling a few more notes on a legal pad. “It’s working. David looks like an asshole in the media and you look like a woman just trying to move on with her life. That should help our case greatly.”
I like that she’s old school, always scribbling notes on legal pads and transcribing them later, taking audio notes on a small recorder that was probably made in 1995, using a paper filing system. I’ve seen her open a laptop twice during all our visits.
Old school means she doesn’t rely on technology to make herself tough. She knows how to find things without having to consult Private Detective Google. Though I’m sure she does plenty of that, too.
“You look good.” Vivian encourages. “You’ve got a healthy glow about you, despite all this. A big change from the beginning. That’s good. It means you’re handling this in a healthy way.”
“You could say that.” I try to suppress a smile. All this talk today about being a woman moving on has made me feel so much better about what has been happening behind closed doors. “I feel better, mostly.”
“I guess I need to consider this hot yoga mess you keep going on about. If I can sweat for an hour and look like that? Sign me up. Usually I don’t look that happy unless I’ve gotten laid.”
At this, Vivian pauses. She looks up from her notepad and stares hard at me.
“You aren’t sleeping with someone, are you?”
“No.” I answer as truthfully as possible. There’s never really been any sleeping involved. This reminds me of the first interlude with Eric, the one that ended disastrously, where we both made a point to outline no sleeping was involved. “I have not been sleeping with anyone. I have considered getting a cat, though, or maybe a dog to cuddle with. Beds can get a little lonely at night, you know? But the upkeep is hard with my busy schedule. Haven’t made a decision yet.”
“Kate.” Vivian squints at me. “Are you fucking someone?”
I become very interested in my latest manicure. The color reminds me of ocean water, which is always so soothing. Also, my nails don’t have the laser focus Vivian currently has, which is sort of terrifying.
“You do understand, as I’ve repeatedly told you, the state of California does not recognize legal separation unless specifically filed, correct?”
“Of course.” I nod. “You were always very clear about that.”
“And you two elected not to go the route of legal separation, saying divorce was the only option.”