Page 78 of Theirs to Treasure
As I ride the elevator, I’m still shaking with anger.
I yank open the oversize, ridiculously heavy door, stride across the plush carpeting, and smack the package of insulting documents on the desk of the administrative assistant.
Then, needing to calm my nerves, I drive to Mocha Muse.
After making sure that the brothers’ SUVs are nowhere in sight, I park and walk toward the front door.
Not taking any chances, I stick my head in the door to double check that neither of them are present.
Satisfied, I order my treat to go and hustle out with my cup as fast as I can.
Forrest may think he can use fear to gain my compliance. He couldn’t be more wrong, and he’s going to learn he fucked with the wrong pregnant woman.
* * *
Forrest
“How’dthat work out for you?”
Annoyed as hell, I scowl at Zev.
On the desk of my home office is a pile of torn papers, and when I put them together, the writing was unmistakable.
Fuck you.
My lawyer had the envelope couriered over, and he’d called me in advance to warn me that her response was not what I’d hoped.
That was an understatement.
“Thought I told you to own up to your part in this.” Uninvited and uncaring that I don’t want anything to do with him, he drops into a chair. “Clearly your threats and demands are not working.”
“Don’t you have work to do?”
“Nah. Finished for the day.”
“I’m not,” I snap.
“At some point, you’re going to have to stop being an idiot.”
Knocking the papers to the floor, I glare at him. “Get the fuck out of here and quit annoying the hell out of me.”
“Face your demons, Forrest. That’s the only goddamn chance you have at getting what you want.” He stands. Then, with a stupid whistle, he ambles out, leaving me alone with my unwanted thoughts.
Now what in the hell am I supposed to do?
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Harper
I receive an envelope from Forrest.Not opening it, I tear it in half and drop it in the trash can, and I do so every day for the next five days.
The next morning, I receive another one, large and thick, this time bearing the return address of the hated, slimy attorney.
Because I still have work to do, I drop it on the kitchen island and return to the computer keyboard.
When I’m on my lunch break, the lumpy manila envelope seems to jump out at me, demanding action.
Though I try to ignore it, I can’t.