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“It’s complicated.”
“I know you got drunk and got into a fight at Caroline Vale’s wedding. That’s not like you, Chloe. I thought you’d never had a drink.”
“I hadn’t. Not until that night. Then I had three shots of tequila.” I grimaced—it hadn’t been my finest hour.
“What were you thinking?” Elena sounded more like a mother than a madam. “And the fight with Felicia. The pictures are God-awful!”
I winced. The most famous shot was of me on top of Felicia Jones, straddling her, my teeth bared as I pulled her hair. I’d been wearing that revealing red dress, the one Gene Windsor had picked out. The fight had been his idea; he’d wanted me to publicly humiliate myself.
“I was upset,” I said. “She was still texting Bryce. She was nasty to me. So I got drunk and did something stupid. You can understand that, can’t you?”
“Sure,” Elena said, surprising me. “Sometimes you have to tell people to back off. But that doesn’t explain why you left. You must have real feelings for Bryce if she got under your skin. So why leave? And we both know you desperately need the money.”
“I left because Idohave real feelings for him, Elena.” I sucked at lying, so it was best to stick as close to the truth as possible. “That’s why. I embarrassed him. His family won’t ever accept me. And now he’s going to be acting CEO of the company, and with his father’s trial coming up, Bryce is going to be all over the media. I can’t drag him down like that.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but there’s an important piece to this that you’re not acknowledging.”
“What’s that?”
“Him,”she said. “He wants you back, Chloe. There are always two people in a marriage, even one that’s arranged. You can’t forget that he’s his own person and capable of making decisions for himself. Don’t take that away from him. If you want to leave foryou—because this isn’t what you want and you can’t do it anymore—fine. Pay the damages, go to jail, drain my girls’ college funds, whatever. I will support you if that’s what you really want. But if you’re not going back because you think you know what’s best for him, check yourself.”
She went quiet for a moment. “Bryce Windsor is his own man. So let him make his choice. And you need to make yours. Call me when you decide, okay? I’ll probably be busy moving my assets to an off-shore account, but I’ll always take your call.”
“Ha,” I said, but I had a sinking feeling she wasn’t kidding. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Okay, Chloe.”
But when she hung up, I knew the truth: nothing was okay.
Bryce Windsor is his own man.That was also the truth.
But where did that leave me?
TWO
injunctive relief
CHLOE
“Jim will beon the call momentarily.” Jim Wright’s assistant, an older man with black-framed glasses, clicked some buttons on his computer. “Please hold.”
Jim Wright had booked us for a video conference that morning. I wished I had something nice to wear, but I was stuck in my one clean T-shirt. I checked my image on my phone’s screen, fixing my damp, frizzy hair. The motel’s window air-conditioning unit barely worked and was no match for the humid August weather.
Noah and I were hiding in Ellsworth, Maine, about a half-hour drive from Northeast Harbor—only a few miles away from Bryce. Still, it seemed like another country. Being back in a crappy motel room after living in an oceanfront estate was jarring. Even though I’d grown up poor, I’d gotten accustomed to having a luxurious shower, a rolling lawn, and plenty of food to eat. Now I was back to scraping for change for the laundry machines, listening to my neighbor’s death-metal playlist in the middle of the night, and worrying about how the hell I was going to get Noah his next meal.
They say money can’t buy happiness, and that was the truth. But it could absolutely buy a lot of other shit!
Akira appeared on the screen, breaking my reverie. She wore her usual pink eyeglasses and high ponytail. “Hey, Chloe. Are we waiting for Attorney Wright?”
I nodded. “The assistant said he’d be right back.”
Akira wrinkled her nose as she inspected me. “Are you in abathroom?”
I sighed. “Noah’s asleep in the bedroom. This is the only other space.”
She started to say something, but Jim Wright appeared. He wore a golf shirt, and his skin was lightly tanned. “Hey there, it’s Jim. Attorney Zhang, it’s nice to meet you. Mrs. Windsor, you as well.”
I mumbled a greeting, but Akira didn’t bother with niceties. She got right to it. “My client’s not interested in continuing with the contract,” she said briskly. “She’s looking to have it voided pursuant to section 81(b) for both duress and unconscionability. This agreement, on its face, is unconscionable. My client signed it under duress. At best, the terms are voidable. At worst, it’s a major lawsuit waiting to happen. I’m sureyourclient wouldn’t want another scandal—particularly one involving an escort agency.”
