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A few minutes later, my boring meeting ended, and I packed up the presentations I’d been given—as if there was a chance in hell I was going to read them when they couldn’t even keep my attention during the actual meeting. As I stood, my phone chimed. It was Nora again, so I swiped to read before leaving the conference room.
Nora: Here’s your consolation prize. Try to find some fun tonight, Mr. Stuffy.
Beneath it was a photo of Nora in a yellow bikini, riding the dolphin.
Damn. The woman had curves. Full, perky tits that looked about two seconds away from slipping out, nipples pointing right at the camera, a tiny waist, and the type of hips and thighs I liked on a woman—curves that felt good in the dark.
I thought about writing back, but there was nothing clean I could say. Instead, I saved the picture to my camera roll and thought to myself,Oh, I’ll be doing something fun tonight—with your picture.
***
“We might have a slight problem.”
Yates Bradley. It wasn’t the first time he’d sat down on the other side of my desk and said those words. When I’d taken him on as a client eighteen months ago, with plans to sell his global baby-food conglomerate, I’d had no idea what I was getting myself into. The guy was a walking, talking PR nightmare, and two deals had already fallen through because of shit uncovered during due diligence. We were now ten days from closing on the sale with a third buyer, and I hadn’t thought there were any more skeletons in the closet. I should’ve known better.
I leaned back in my chair and tented my fingers. “What’s going on now?”
“My wife cheated on me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but it shouldn’t be relevant to your sale, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Things could…come out.”
Oh fuck. What now? “What kind of things?”
“She was screwing her yoga instructor.”
It felt like we were playing twenty questions, and I had to guess what was going to blow up in my face. “Mrs. Bradley isn’t an employee or shareholder of your company, so while that’s unfortunate, I’m not seeing how it’s a problem for your sale.”
“Well…” he said. “She cheated first.”
And here we go…“First? So does that mean you cheated as well?”
“Only because she deserved it.”
I knew from our background investigation before taking on a client that the current Mrs. Bradley wasn’t his first wife. He’d had two others before her, and both marriages had ended in payoffs, even though he’d had prenups.
“Are you concerned about finances? You had a prenup this time, correct?”
“Yes, I never get married without a prenup. It’s like going on a rowboat in the middle of a storm without a life jacket.”
“Well, then you should be fine.”
“Unless she leaks the pictures…”
Fuck my life.“What pictures?”
“The ones of me and Miss Pain.”
I shut my eyes. “Please tell me that’s spelled P-A-Y-N-E and it’s not what I think it is.”
He had the nerve to look indignant. “What I chose to do in my personal life is not relevant. Alternative lifestyles are becoming more and more accepted these days. Maybe it won’t be a problem.”
“Mr. Bradley, you own ababy foodcompany. Your buyers are new moms, most of whom are family-oriented at the time of purchase. A cheating scandal would have some impact on your brand, but photos of you involved in BDSM or some other situation could jeopardize your sale.” I leaned forward. “What exactly are we talking about here?”
Mr. Bradley got his phone out and punched in a code. He held it out to me.
I took it, though I had a feeling I didn’t want to see.
