THE GREAT PRETENDER (30 page)

Tracy took it all in. She wasn’t sure how she felt.

Save for the lunchtime traffic in the streets below, the room was silent once Brent completed his summation. She only knew that her heart was heavy with jealousy. But Renee Jameson was a total stranger to her…

Franklin was no stranger to Reginald.

Brent spoke again. “Would you like a copy of the file, Tracy?” Ever respectful of his clients’ emotional state while in his office, Brent spoke quietly, although Tracy Brooks looked anything but in need of consoling. She appeared quite relaxed and composed in the armchair, sitting with her shapely legs crossed, head resting between her thumb and forefinger. If she was in any way affected by what she’d just heard, there was no indication.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’d appreciate a copy of the file.”

“Very well.” Brent rose. “Please excuse me while I have Lola prepare one for you. It’ll just be a few minutes.”

Justine relaxed as the door closed softly behind Brent. She wondered how she missed the attraction on her previous visit.

“Justine, I knew this would only make me feel worse, so why did I go through with it?” Tracy sighed. “Just had to satisfy that old curiosity…The same one that killed the cat, I suppose.”

Justine placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, saying, “Tracy, just remember that the most important thing
now
is holding your family together. Every family has its ups and downs, but that’s why family is so sacred, because you fight to get through them.” Her gaze fell to the floor and she fought back tears. “I wish I had trusted mine more…Then maybe I wouldn’t have gotten into a mess named Roger Roman. But you know what? I’m a better person for it, and you will be too. Trust me.” She gave Tracy’s shoulder a pat. “Go see Dr. Berenger.”

“I plan to. I just hope I can get Reginald to agree to it without too much protest.” Tracy turned to Justine then and said in a stage whisper, “Now…” She looked to the door before continuing, “Is it me, or did this Stone guy get an
instant
hard-on the second you walked through the door?”

Justine fought to contain the laughter that bubbled in her chest. “Oh…my…God! You mean, you noticed it, too? I thought it was just my sex-starved ego.”

Laughing, Tracy said, “My goodness, I mean, the man looked as though he wanted to have you on the desk right here and now!” Tracy covered her mouth to muffle her girlish giggling. “I felt like a third wheel.”

“Well, I’m definitely available so, maybe I’ll ask
him
out. What do you think about that?”

“Are you sure you want to jump into the dating scene so soon? I mean, the divorce papers haven’t even been drafted yet!”

“Oh, how wrong you are. They’ve been drawn up and are being delivered as we speak—if they haven’t been already.”

“Well, Roger isn’t going to be a very happy CEO today, is he?”

Just then, Brent returned with the two files. He handed Tracy the copy and filed the original back in his cabinet. “Well, I believe that concludes our business,” he said, as the cabinet clicked shut. “I trust everything was done to your satisfaction?”

“Oh, most certainly, Mr. Stone. Thank you so much.” They shook hands, and the two women rose.

“Excuse me, Ms. Roman, but may I speak with you alone for a moment before you go?”

Justine stopped halfway to the door, her back to him. For the briefest moment, she made eye contact with Tracy and winked. “I’ll meet you downstairs, Trace,” she said before facing Brent.

As the door clicked softly behind Tracy, Brent fixed his gray stare on Justine. “I want you to have dinner with me.” His eyes coaxed…commanding her to agree.

A raging tornado couldn’t have dragged her eyes from his as she replied in a firm voice, “
I
want me to have dinner with you, too.” Her stomach quivered.

Brent resisted an urge to walk over and touch her. “Well, please, Ms. Roman,” he said softly, “name the time and the place, and I’ll be there.”

Justine smiled.
Think?
He wanted her to think at a time like this? When she knew with delicious certainty that
dinner
was a synonym for
sex
.

Like a sleek panther, she moved toward his desk. Breaking the intense eye contact, she reached for a pen and jotted her new address on a Post-it pad.

Her blond hair fell over her shoulder as she tore off another sticky paper, writing:
My place, this evening.
She paused for effect, and then scribbled,
and come prepared.

Just then, her cell phone rang.

R
oger Roman slammed his fist into the elegant marble of his credenza, causing several of his prized
Lalique
crystals to tumble to the floor. “Goddamn it! Justine, you can’t do this to me!”

The divorce papers had arrived ten minutes earlier via messenger. After reading the pertinent clauses, he immediately picked up the phone and punched in Justine’s cell phone number.

Hearing it ring twice, he hung up before she answered. What the fuck was he going to say to her?
Please don’t sue me for 50 percent of my life?
She’d laugh in his face.

Roger threw off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

She knows.

Somehow she found out about the women, and this is her way of gutting him like a fluttering fish. It was all in ink—signed, sealed, and fucking delivered!

Frustrated beyond belief, Roger grabbed the phone again and dialed Reginald’s secretary, Dana. Knowing he was probably loud enough to cause permanent damage to her eardrum, he barked, “Is Brooks back from lunch yet?”

“Yes, Mr. Roman. Would you like me to transfer you?”

“No, thank you.” He slammed the phone back into the cradle.

In less than a minute, Roger barged into Reginald’s office, slamming the door behind him. “Brooks! She’s trying to ruin me!” He tossed the papers onto Reginald’s desk. “Half! She wants half of all assets and holdings! Christ, Brooks, how the hell did this happen?
When
the hell did this happen? One day, everything’s perfectly normal, and the next, Justine’s suing me for divorce and wants to take me for damn near everything I’m worth!” His face was flushed as he paced the length of Reginald’s spacious office.

“Are you serious?
Justine is leaving you?
” Reginald’s eyes quickly scanned the documents now in front of him.

“
Leaving?
She already left! I thought it was just some exaggerated cry for attention, but damn it, she’s serious! This is no goddamn plea for attention!” Roger’s forceful voice bounced off the walls of the office.

“All right, calm down for a minute. I’m sure the entire floor can hear you. Calm down, and let’s just talk about it.” Leaving his desk, Reginald settled into a leather armchair near the window. “Sit. Let’s talk about this.” Roger took the armchair opposite him and ran his fingers down the length of his face.

After a lengthy pause, he finally said, “Christ, Reginald, she wants to ruin me.” This time his voice was so low that Reggie strained to hear it. “I can’t believe it. She found out…And she’s pissed enough to try to stick me where it hurts.
That’s
the reason for all this.” Roger stared out the window at the lake across the street. “What the hell am I gonna do, Brooks?”

“Well, not that I’m the one to be handing out advice at this point, but I think you should try talking to her. Try to work it out with her. I mean, at least you don’t have a secret kid to bring home.”

Roger took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “I don’t know, Brooks. You should’ve seen her the day she left. She didn’t even want me to touch her, let alone talk it over. I suggested a romantic getaway—you know, seclusion so we could reconnect. She wouldn’t even consider it!”

“When did she leave?”

“Nearly two weeks ago.”

“Justine left you two weeks ago and you haven’t mentioned it? Why the hell not? Especially since I’ve been so edgy about Tracy? It would’ve done me some good to know you were miserable, too.” Reggie half-smiled.

“I told you, I didn’t think it was significant. I figured I’d give her some space, you know, some time to think this foolishness over.” Roger sighed again. “I guess that was a bad idea…Well, I’ll take your advice and go see her. If she wants to leave, she can leave. I won’t fight her, but I’ll see her in hell before she gets
one cent
more than I see fit to give her!” he said, slamming his fist into the chair’s soft cushion.

Reginald offered a word of caution. “Just try to remember to keep your cool with her, though. The objective is for a resolution, right? So don’t run off half-cocked and add insult to injury.”

Roger left the office ten minutes later, still fighting to control his rage.

T
hank God I’m not in his shoes,
thought Reggie.

Less than an
hour after leaving the office, Roger drove up to the gate of the
Enclave Estates
and rang for Justine. She answered on the second ring, and Roger kept his voice steady as he said, “It’s me. I got the papers. We need to talk.”

He heard no response as the gate lifted and he was granted admittance to the community. That, at least, was something. She hadn’t slammed the phone down and just left him sitting there.

I wonder where the hell the money came from for all this,
he thought as he drove through the affluent neighborhood, looking for the address he had jotted down in haste.
Where the hell else?
Justine hadn’t worked a day in her life, thanks to their marriage. And now she had the gall to try and leave him!

Once they were
face-to-face in her living room, Roger was clearly making every effort to keep his composure, while Justine silently prayed for this to end well.

Roger loosened his tie. “Now, what’s going on Justine? Why exactly are you doing this? You pick up and move out of our home with no notice—you’ve obviously had the intention for quite some time since you had prearranged living arrangements”—he said, casting a glance around the room—“and now I’m notified of divorce proceedings with your intent to sue me for fifty percent of everything.” Roger sat back against the fluffy pillows of her sofa. “Please just tell me what this is really about.”

Justine rolled her eyes, annoyed. “I fail to see the problem, Roger. I explained how I felt the other day at the house. We’ve grown apart. Given your actions, you know it’s your own fault and you can’t make me love you again. It’s too late for that. As for the money—I’m entitled. After all, I’ve invested
eighteen years
of my life—eighteen good years. I’d say I was due a damn good return. Besides, you can more than afford it, so don’t whine.”

Roger sat up. His eyes pierced hers. “And just what power on Earth do you think is going to make me agree to these terms, Justine? I admit that there have been other women, but you’ve always been my wife. You’ve always
reaped the
benefits
of being my wife. As I was driving in, I was just thinking to myself that you’ve never worked a day in your life!” His voice rose high above Justine’s music from the stereo. “You fell in love with life down on Easy Street, didn’t you? But suddenly, now I’m not good enough? Why? Because I’ve screwed a few other women? Get over it, Justine. All the other wives do…Take Tracy Brooks, for example.”

Something snapped in Justine then and she felt her composure slip away. “
A few women?
You bastard! You’ve got women all over the goddamn globe! And I have proof.” Her eyes blazed as she lashed out, reliving the humiliation she’d felt. “Your whores are in Denver, L.A., Boston, Reno, Atlanta, Long Island, Manhattan, Toronto—even London!” Tears pooled in her frosty blue eyes. “Shall I go on? Or perhaps
tangible
proof is what you need. Is that it?” She spun around, leaving him gaping after her like a stunned animal.

After a quick trip to the bedroom she returned, crying openly and toting a thick manila envelope.

Of course Roger knew instantly—he had lost the war.