Undressed By His Legal Services: Marry Me Again

”I knew it!” Dorian said triumphantly.

Naomi gave him an odd look, clearly unimpressed by how pleased he was with himself. ”Really?” She rolled her eyes. ”The things that excite you men just go whoosh over my head.”

Dorian leaned back slightly, looking entirely too satisfied. She shook her head.

”Anyway,” she continued, ”I don’t want to do anything that will put us at odds at the end of all of this.”

”Neither do I.”

The sex had been incredible, embarrassingly incredible if she was being honest, but she didn’t want it turning into something ugly later. She didn’t want resentment, expectations or one of them deciding the other had promised something that had never actually been offered.

The contract would end. Whatever happened between now and then had to be something they could both live with afterward.

She smiled at him. ”You’re a good man, Dorian.”

Dorian simply held her gaze. Something about the compliment settled in a place he wasn’t used to anyone touching. ”It’s nice to hear.”

Naomi smiled again before returning to her food. He did the same, although her words stayed with him much longer than he wanted them to.

******

Richard Whitmore had his hand down his pants. His phone rested against the edge of his desk, propped up for a video call with his latest young fling, a woman with a talent for draining money out of his accounts. He knew what she was. He wasn’t stupid.

She liked the gifts, the dinners and the occasional transfer that arrived whenever she suddenly had another emergency. Richard liked the fact that she was young, beautiful and enthusiastic enough to make him feel younger than his reflection suggested.

As far as arrangements went, he considered it fair. He was distracted enough that he didn’t immediately notice the sound of the front door opening downstairs.

Then he heard his children. Their voices carried easily through the house, louder than usual as they came in from Mass.

His daughter was practically squealing. Richard frowned. That kind of excitement usually meant Naomi was with them.

Ah.

The prodigal daughter had finally returned to her senses. About damned time. Richard quickly pulled his hand out of his trousers, adjusted himself properly and ended the video call without bothering with much explanation.

He straightened his shirt, ran a hand through his hair and pushed his phone aside. The children were getting closer. His daughter reached the doorway first, practically bouncing into the room.

”Daddy!”

Richard looked at her. She was grinning so widely that he knew his suspicion had been right before she even said anything.

”We rode in Aunt Naomi’s car!”

His son entered behind her, calmer as usual, one hand resting lightly on his sister’s shoulder as though he had spent the entire trip trying to contain her excitement.

”Good afternoon, Dad.”

Richard acknowledged him with a brief nod. His attention remained on his daughter. ”Aunt Naomi’s car?”

”Yes!” she said, practically hopping again. ”It’s so big. And so nice. She let me sit in the back and—”

Richard’s eyes narrowed.

A car?

Naomi had bought a car? His daughter kept talking, describing the seats and the size and whatever other details had impressed a child who had no idea what cars cost.

Richard stopped listening. His irritation rose quickly. That ungrateful bitch had been crying poverty for years.

Constantly complaining about payments. And now she was buying cars? While he needed money?

Richard pushed his chair back and stood. ”Where is your mother?”

His daughter blinked at the sudden change in his tone. ”She drove her own car. Aunt Naomi is waiting for her outside.”

Richard looked toward the window. He crossed the room and pulled the curtain aside just enough to see the driveway properly.

Naomi stood near the curb. Then he saw the vehicle beside her. A black Range Rover SV. A fucking Range Rover SV.

Richard’s jaw tightened. He knew enough about cars to know what he was looking at. He also knew enough about Naomi’s finances to know she had no business standing beside something like that.

Unless she had lied. Richard’s anger sharpened. So this was what she was doing. His little girl was still talking behind him, completely unaware that every excited word was making his temper worse.

Richard barely heard her. His attention remained fixed on Naomi. On the Range Rover. On the easy way she stood beside it.

The bitch!!!

”Fucking bitch!” Richard’s face went red as he stormed away from the window, cursing loudly enough that both children fell silent behind him. He thundered through the house and yanked the front door open, still swearing under his breath as he headed straight toward the driveway.

Naomi saw him coming. She had been waiting beside the Range Rover for Diana and was already preparing to greet him, hoping they could have a civil conversation for once.

That hope lasted approximately three seconds.

”You bought a fucking car!”

”No! Uncle Richard, I—”

He reached her before she could finish. His hand went straight into her hair, grabbing a fistful and jerking her head backward.

Pain shot across her scalp. Naomi cried out and immediately caught his wrist.

”Give me the fucking keys!”

”It’s not mine!” she yelled, struggling to free her hair from his grip.

”Give me the keys!”

”It’s Dorian’s!”

That stopped him. Richard’s grip remained in her hair while his expression changed.

”What?”

”It belongs to Dorian.”

Richard’s eyes flicked toward the Range Rover and then back to her. ”Why does he have you driving his car?”

”He loaned it to me. He has others.”

”He loaned you this?”

”Yes!” Naomi twisted sharply and finally yanked her hair out of his grip. She stumbled back a step, immediately touching the sore part of her scalp.

Richard barely seemed to notice. His attention had gone back to the vehicle. Loaning her a car like this as casually as someone else might hand over a spare umbrella?

Before he could say anything else, another car turned into the yard. Her aunt pulled in, parked and stepped out, taking one look at Richard’s expression and Naomi standing several feet away with one hand still near her hair.

”What’s going on?”