Home > Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(3)

Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(3)
Claire Contreras

“I want to make you partner,” he said.

My mouth dropped.

Those six words.

My reason for everything.

I reeled in my emotions before they let me get ahead of myself and sat back in my seat a little. “Just like that? What about Bobby?” Bobby, whose parents were old family friends of Will’s, had been hired a year before I was. Even if I was a much better lawyer, I couldn’t imagine him not giving Bobby the opportunity first.

“I’ve spoken to him about this at length. He knows where I’m coming from, and he agrees that you’re better suited.”

“Better suited . . . to make partner,” I said, needing to clarify.

“To make partner, and for the job I need you to do in order to make partner.” He delivered that with a wide grin. My heart sank. What the fuck was this man going to ask me to do?

“What is it this time? An actor needs representation because his wife slapped him with a divorce after he was caught cheating with their nanny?”

“Not quite, but good guess,” he said, his smile turning somewhat serious. “I need you to represent Nicole in her divorce.”

I blinked. What? No. I shook my head and swallowed loudly. It wasn’t often I was at a loss for words, but this was just . . .

“She’s getting a divorce?”

“Yes, and obviously I can’t be her attorney, so I wanted her to get the next best thing.”

Me. The next best thing. That in itself was high praise from William.

I closed my eyes momentarily, but the only thing I could visualize was the day she’d come in here and Will had introduced her as his daughter. Suddenly, I wanted the world to swallow me whole. It might as well have since I already felt like my career was beginning to sink as the memories of her and me in a bathroom stall at one of LA’s most popular nightclubs choked me, and I barely got an audible nice to meet you out. She’d smiled, like it was no big deal, but the blush that crept over her face and neck had said differently. The way her eyes widened at the sight of me, as if her vision had to adjust to what I looked like in real life, outside of the dark club and dimly lit bathroom. And how that memory rushed through my body and to my cock when she came back the following week and started to flirt with me.

I’d promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with her then, but from one second to another, Nicole’s tanned legs were spread open in front of me on this very desk, and I became addicted to the way she threw her head back and said my name with that slight Spanish accent, regardless of what I did to her body. I swallowed, cleared my throat, and took a deep breath.

“I can’t do it,” I managed to say.

“Is this about the Sam Weaver case? If you want to take on less, you can give that one to Bobby. I want you for Nicole.”

I want you for Nicole.

Nicole, who I knew the first time I laid eyes on her could be my downfall. Nicole, whose blue eyes held wicked promise every time she looked at me. Nicole, who had sworn she was completely against marriage, an oath I disputed when the tabloids dropped the bomb of her engagement. Nicole, who weaved some powerful shit with her wild streak and funny comments, rivaling anything that came out of my mouth. Nicole, whose fucking mouth was made by the gods for the gods and hadn’t been anywhere near me for at least five years. I breathed out a heavy breath, trying to rid myself of all things Nicole. He had no idea what he was asking of me.

“Did she request me?”

“No. She doesn’t know yet. She should be here shortly. I wanted to give you a heads-up first. But, Victor, you do this, you do right by her, and then I’ll make you partner.”

Fuck. My. Life. That word was too tantalizing to fuck around with. Partner. It was the sole reason I was billing so many damn hours.


“You’ll do it?”


Now I just had to make sure I didn’t do her and lose my goddamn license in the process.

“DIVORCE SUCKS,” I said for what seemed like the millionth time since this whole ordeal started. Not that I needed to reiterate that for anybody. People didn’t get married thinking they’d ever divorce. Being the product of a divorced household, and a father as a divorce attorney, I never saw myself getting a divorce. I always swore that if I got married it would be forever, but that was before the promise of forever became dreary and cold. It was before the word itself made me want to curl up into a ball whenever I thought of my estranged husband hitting the bottle or those pills he’d been partial to for the past two years. It was before shit went down the drain, basically. And that’s how I found myself talking to the hot new security detail my soon-to-be ex-husband assigned me.

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