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Mark laughed, but it wasn’t genuine. “You have no proof. It would be your word against mine. And trust me, she’ll believe me. I can tell her the sky is red and she wouldn’t argue.”
“I think you’re underestimating her,” I replied. “But I have a feeling your wife won’t care that much about our affair because she’ll be having a field day in your bank account.”
A longer silence. I had him in the palm of my hands.
“I can always tell her about the nights we spent together, the bathroom fu
cks, the time at the park?” I continued. “I wonder what she’d say to that.”
“You can’t prove anything, you dirty bitch!”
I kept pushing. “Your wife seems like a sweet woman. Certainly, too good for a piece of shit like you. Maybe she just needs a little nudge in the right direction.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he growled. “You have a reputation to protect, too.”
“I could give two shits about my reputation,” I said, feeling totally in control with him for the first time. “And I do have proof.”
“What proof…”
“Oh, let’s see… that tiny mole right above the thing you call a cock? I wonder how you’re going to explain how I know about that. Or the birth mark just under your right ass cheek. Or the pictures of you and me in Vegas, time stamped for when you were supposed to be in Spain? Oh, and did I mention that I’ve been recording this call? Imagine how your wife will react when she hears you bragging about wiping the stink of my pussy off your cock and moving on to my replacement.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Mark almost yelled, miraculously keeping his voice down even though I knew I had him by the balls.
“No, you’re not,” I said. “But you are going to drop the charges, or so help me God, little Miss Sunshine is going to get a visit from me. She’ll have more than enough dirt to file for a divorce and take half of everything you’ve got.”
Silence.
“Drop the charges, Mark. Or I’ll come for you. And I’ll burn down your entire fucking life.”
I didn’t wait for an answer.
I didn’t have to.
Zoe Maxwell was in control.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Chad
“He’s dropping the lawsuit?” I frowned across the table at Martin, who had just gotten off the phone with my attorney. “Why the hell would he do that?”
Martin shrugged as he tucked his phone into his jacket. “His attorney said his client did not want the humiliation of a public trial,” Martin said, picking up his martini glass and holding it out for me to toast. I tapped the lip of the beer bottle to his glass.
“That makes no sense,” I said with the bottle to my lips.
“Don’t overthink it,” Martin said, licking gin from his lips. “The good news is, we can put this all behind us and get back on track with Body by Chad New York City.”
“Yeah, about that…” I reached into the computer bag at my feet and brought up a legal document I’d had my attorney draft without Martin’s knowledge. He narrowed his eyes at the document, recognizing it to be a legal document by the blue binder.
“What’s that?” he asked, the martini glass hovering at his mouth.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said when the shit hit the fan the other day,” I said, giving him a serious look. “About how hard you’ve worked to help me build the business.” I slid the document toward him. “I just wanted you to know that I understand how hard you’ve worked and it has not gone unnoticed.”
“What is this?” he asked, taking a gulp of his drink before opening the folder. I watched him, drink in my hand, smiling as his eyes grew wide. He continued reading for a few seconds, flipping between pages, then looked up at me like a child opening his first gift on Christmas morning.
“Is this a joke?” he asked. “You’re making me a partner in the business. Jesus, Chad, thirty percent? Holy fuck…”
“It’s no joke,” I said. “You’ve had my back since the beginning, and I wouldn’t be here without you. I’m still in control, but we both know who really runs things.”
“This is too much, though,” he said. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you sick or something? Are you dying?”
