The Wedding Pact Box Set - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,374

I’ll call Megan. I’ll text you if I get something set up.”

“Thanks.” She stood and took another deep breath and exhaled, then smoothed her skirt. She needed to get her shit together.

Allison was in the conference room, raging about the temperature of the water in her glass.

And that was about all that Blair was going to take from her today. Blair placed her hands on the conference room table and leaned forward, staring her client in the eye. “Ms. DeSanto, do you really feel so entitled that you are actually complaining that the temperature of your water is off by two degrees?”

She lifted her chin. “Hardly. I said it was off by ten degrees.”

Blair held her gaze, ready for a staring contest if necessary. “You do realize there are villages in Africa that have no running water? That children are forced to walk miles each way—every day—to get buckets of water and haul them back to their homes?”

She shook her head. “That doesn’t happen anymore.”

“It most certainly does.” Blair stood up and closed the door, then sat in the chair next to her client. “Allison, why are you so wrapped up in this petty shit? Why? Who cares who gets the toaster?”

Pain flickered in the woman’s eyes before she lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug. “It’s robin’s egg blue and toasts four slices.”

“You can get another one just like it at the Target down the street. Why are you doing this?”

The woman didn’t answer.

“When you came to me, you told me you were sure Marco had cheated on you, though you had no proof. Yet when I suggested a private investigator, you refused. Why?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t see the point.”

“So you’re doing this to make him pay for cheating when you’re not even sure he did?”

Tears filled her eyes.

“What’s the real reason you want to get divorced?”

“Why does anyone get divorced?”

Why, indeed. Blair, however, was not about to tackle this question, not right now, after her argument with Garrett. Safer to focus on Allison DeSanto’s crippled marriage.

Blair was usually good at weeding through the bullshit and figuring out the underlying reasons a woman was filing for divorce, but every time she tried to figure out what made Allison tick, she hit a wall. Surely Allison couldn’t be that shallow. Then again, her parents had taught her to enjoy all the finer things in life. They had doted on her every moment of her life and she had never lived without them.

Maybe Allison was that shallow. “I’m not asking why divorce happens. I’m asking why you want a divorce, Allison.”

Anger filled Allison’s eyes. “It shouldn’t matter to you why I’m getting divorced, only that I am. Can’t you handle the simple job of dividing my assets? I thought you were supposed to be good.”

Blair’s back stiffened. “I charge by the hour, Ms. DeSanto, so if you want to drag this thing on forever, be my guest. But believe it or not, there are women out there with real issues. After thirty years of marriage, their husbands have left them for newer versions and want to leave these women absolutely nothing. Or you might have a woman with two kids whose husband beat her, yet he’s put everything in his own name, leaving her with absolutely no money or resources to escape.”

Allison looked straight ahead, her chin quivering.

Blair tapped her nail on the table, studying her client. “I’ll continue this settlement meeting, but I need to know what you want.”

“I want everything.”

“Given that there’s no proof he cheated on you or harmed you in any way, that’s not realistic or fair to him. You’ll need to be more specific about the things you want.”

“I want the house.”

“Then you have to give up an amount of assets equal to his half of the house, and frankly, I’m not sure there are enough assets to cover it.”

“Then make it happen.”

Blair groaned. This was going to be a long day.

She stood and opened the door, then walked into the client lounge. “I think we’re ready to continue.”

“Is she willing to negotiate with my client?” Dane asked.

Marco crossed his arms in a show of nonchalance, though his face betrayed his anxiety, and Dane flashed him an arrogant smile, signaling his premature confidence.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

But an hour later, they’d made little progress.

As Allison hemmed and hawed over who got the dining room furniture—piece by piece, down to the furniture polish—Blair looked out the glass conference room wall and was relieved to discover her friend Megan