Page 16 of Forgotten Desires

“Yes. You need to be the perfect father, businessman, friend, brother, son, I don’t care whatever titles you hold, each one has to be perfect. You need to appear like the family man that every man aspires to be. If you’re seen with a woman, you’re marrying her. No dating, no casual sex, no hints of bachelor life. So, if you don’t plan to marry the woman you could be linked to, don’t be linked. I want you to continue your charity work, but do some . . . showboating, if possible. All of your life, every aspect, has to be meticulous. Do you understand?”

“So cancel the trip to Bali with my two model friends?” I ask, kidding.

She grins. “Cancel everything other than things for business or Layla.” Ms. Banks stands and extends her hand, and I shake it. “I believe I can get a court date in a few weeks thanks to some friends. As I said before, be ready, because this is going to be a long process.”

Ford walks her to the door and when it closes, he turns to me. “Guess now you have another reason not to talk to the small-town girl you boinked in college.”

“Yeah, unless I plan to marry her.”

* * *

~Two Weeks Later~

I have a fucking headache. That’s what two hours of meetings with lawyers and Jacqueline gave me. That’s all they gave me, in fact.

I’m no closer to having custody of Layla now than I was when we started. I’m fucking tired of this. My lawyer comes up behind me as I stand on the corner of Ninth and Fortieth, feeling so much anger it’s not even normal.

“Mr. Knight.” My lawyer’s voice breaks through.

I turn to her, giving her the full weight of my displeasure. “I pay you an ungodly amount of money to get results. What the hell was that?”

“That was your ex-wife having her say. I told you that the first part of this was going to be stressful.”

I point to the building. “That wasn’t stressful, it was a goddamn massacre. Photos that aren’t even real! I had to sit and listen to her paint me as some fucked-up playboy who has done nothing but dick around since I was a kid. When exactly was I going to have the time to do that when I built four companies and practically rebuilt the fifth? That was the whole reason she cheated on me!”

To my surprise, Ms. Banks doesn’t flinch. “And in the next meeting, we get to discuss your ex’s transgressions and the fact that she paid to have those photos taken. I warned you that trying to take custody from a perfectly sane—on paper—charitable woman was going to be hard. As much as you hate her, she has the exact look that a judge wants to see. She lives in a cozy brownstone that you bought, equipped with a room for a princess, a nanny, carpeted floors, and baby proofing. You’re a bachelor, living in a penthouse that is made of marble, and you have your picture taken by her private investigator whenever you’re seen with a woman. I warned you about that.”

I run my fingers through my hair. “I have dinner meetings.”

“Don’t.” The one word feels like a reprimand from my mother.

“You’re telling me that I can’t conduct my business life the way I have to?”

Ms. Banks picks at her nail. “I’m telling you that if you want custody of Layla, you need to be a saint. A family man. You want to do business? Fine. Find a woman who will go with you. One who is your steady girlfriend. Find a wife, Carson, not dinner dates. No models and no actresses. Find a down-home, wholesome girl who looks like an angel next to your ex-wife. I understand you’re not doing anything wrong, but perception is what we’re working with. Your ex painted that image because she knew it would garner sympathy. The billionaire who has everything he wants and would rather stick his daughter in the corner of a multimillion-dollar penthouse than pay the alimony to give her a stable home. That’s the game she’s playing, and she’s playing it well. We have a month until the next meeting, where we’ll present our side of this.”

I shake my head. A month of Layla being with the nanny and Jacqueline doing God knows what.

“She’s a raging alcoholic. Layla needs to be out of that home.”

“I understand that, but being an alcoholic doesn’t make her a bad mother in the eyes of the law.”

Unreal. “Neglect does.”

“And I’m building that case.”

“Why is the judge extending this so much?” I ask.

“Because Layla isn’t in apparent inherent danger. We’ll have our day in court, Carson. Until then, please take what I say to heart. If you need to meet with women, appear to have a steady girlfriend who is beside you each time. Even better if you put a ring on it. I know it’s not fair, it’s often not in these cases.”

I exhale deeply and straighten when Jacqueline walks out with her lawyers. She has her big, round sunglasses on, holding a tissue under her nose. She comes toward me. “I loved you with my whole heart, Carson. I wish you weren’t trying to hurt me so much. Layla is my life. How could you try to take her from me? How could you be so cold? I always thought your abuse would end with me, not extend to Layla.”

I bite down because anything I say at this point can be used against me. My lawyer maneuvers herself between us. “Please allow Mr. Knight some privacy. We’ll communicate through your lawyers.”

Jacqueline pulls her glasses off, dabbing at her eyes as though she’s in line for an Emmy based on this performance. She definitely would’ve won one in the judge’s chambers. “It doesn’t need to be this way. I still love you, Crew. We can find a way through this and do what’s best for Layla, which is having both her parents together.”

Her lawyers come to her, pulling her away, and I stay silent. Once she’s gone, Ms. Banks turns to me. “I’m going to continue working with our investigation team to build our case.”

“Whatever it takes to get my daughter.”

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