The smile Kim gives me is like a door opening into another, more beautiful and perfect world. My pulse races, and a magnetic pull that has nothing to do with lust floods me.
I love this woman.
If somebody asked me why, I’d say because she’s beautiful and smart. But if God were to ask me, I’d answer honestly and say I don’t know. It isn’t like Kim’s the only beautiful woman in L.A., or the only smart one. But everything about her just makes me not only happy but respect her.
“Since she’s working today, if we get to her office before noon, she said she’ll talk to us for half an hour.” Kim’s words pull me out of my stunned awareness.
I look at her, my gut tight. It takes me a moment to process what she said. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Thank you,” I say instead of the loud I love Kim echoing in my heart, as nervous apprehension holds me back.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Wyatt
Samantha’s law firm is…nice. With lots of warm colors, books on every shelf and some mini-sculptures, the place looks more like a therapist’s reception room than a nuclear missile silo. It’s jarring. I want the meanest and nastiest lawyer around, not somebody nice.
On the other hand, Kim said Samantha was ruthless, and I trust her judgment.
Kim’s with me. I asked her to come. Part of me only wants to appear to her as this perfect guy with nothing bad going on in his life, but another part wants her to be involved in this because she cares about Vi. And also, I just want her support. She’s one of very few people in this town who know about my ugly past with Geneva.
A tall guy who seems vaguely familiar comes out from behind a desk. He gives Kim a big smile. “Hello, Kim.”
“Hi, Hugo.”
Hugo. He’s the one she was hugging in the hall that time. I didn’t know they were still so…friendly.
“Thanks for your help. I don’t know if I would’ve scored a job here otherwise.”
“Ah, you would’ve gotten it anyway.”
“Still. I owe you one.”
Kim won’t be needing anything from you, buddy. I haven’t forgotten the way he hugged her.
She gives him a small nod. “This is Wyatt. He has an appointment with Samantha.”
“Of course. This way.” He gestures at the door.
We walk into a huge corner office with a sprawling view of the city. A gigantic desk is covered with neat stacks of documents in accordion folders and a slim laptop. A woman who must be Samantha smiles at us and stands up behind the desk.
Dressed in a beige top and black fitted skirt, she doesn’t look anything like an evil attorney who likes to make people cry. Her dirty-blond bob lies sleek, and her wide-set brown eyes are warm and trust-inspiring. The friendly expression on her face says you can pour your heart out to her, and she’ll hold your hand the entire time.
With any luck, she’ll be evil and vicious inside.
She extends her hand. “Samantha Jones. Nice to meet you, Mr. Westland.”
“Likewise. Call me Wyatt.”
“Please sit down.” She gestures at comfortable-looking seats in front of her desk and takes the leather office chair again.
Before settling down, I hand her the divorce documents from my former lawyer.
She smiles. “Thank you. It’s nice when potential clients are organized.”
Hugo appears with a tray of coffee, then leaves. Samantha gestures at us to help ourselves. “So. Tell me what I can do for you.”
I lay it out for her in broad strokes—about the divorce, how the assets were divided and how Geneva didn’t want Vi because Churchill didn’t want to have small kids around. Samantha listens attentively, her eyes on me the entire time. She nods here and there, then taps her chin when I’m done.
“It seems rather simple. She gave up custody, so there’s that. As for the money, it seems like she gave that up too.”