Page 32 of Need You
Chapter Seven
“Why are you being so incredibly unfair about this? If anything, Robert, I’m the one who should be out for blood in this divorce. I’m not the one who became bored and dissatisfied with our marriage and changed the rules.”
After lunch she’d opened the envelope from her ex’s lawyer. It was a cease and desist letter, demanding her to stop selling her shoes and handbags under the Delaney Scott name. Her attorney was trying to reach Robert’s lawyer. Despite being advised not to contact Robert herself, she’d hoped that he’d see reason if she made a personal appeal.
Big mistake, because he was sticking to his guns and being damned abusive about it.
“Ibecame bored and dissatisfied?” he scoffed. “You rarely had sex with me anymore, Delaney. And when you did your mind was elsewhere.”
She couldn’t argue with that. Obviously their marriage had needed work, but his answer to saving it had been out of the question.
“And this is how you get even? This is the way you punish me for not going along with your warped plan to infuse new life into our relationship? You steal my company and cut off my income stream?”
“It wasn’t your company, Delaney. It was our company. Both of us know that I was the one who built it to what it is today. Yes, the designs were yours. But without me, we never would’ve become a global brand with the kind of retail reach Delaney Scott has. You’re an artist, Delaney, I’ll give you that. But your head for business . . . well, it’s nonexistent.”
Her eyes filled with tears because he was right. That’s why their partnership had been perfect. At least the professional part of it. And now she wasn’t even an artist. Her well of creativity had gone dry.
“Do you realize how much it will hurt my bottom line to do what you want?” she asked in a choked whisper.
“Don’t make it sound like this is me doing something underhanded to you. This is what the court found equitable, Delaney. What about my bottom line? In essence, we’re both starting over.”
No, they weren’t. He still owned the name—her name. The Delaney Scott brand was famous. All he had to do was maintain the quality and integrity of the company. She, on the other hand, had to completely invent a new brand, introduce it to the world, and hope like hell it would sell.
“My lawyer says the judge’s ruling did not include me taking the Delaney Scott name off preexisting merchandise. And I’ll go back to court if I have to for clarification.”
“You’ll lose in the end, Delaney. And it’ll wind up costing both of us a lot of money. It would behoove you to—”
She hung up on him before he could finish the thought. Liz had warned her about calling him and Delaney should’ve listened. Yet, there’d been a time when he’d been reasonable and she’d hoped to appeal to the old Robert.
“Everything okay?”
She jerked, surprised to see Colt standing a few feet from her deck.
“Yes. Of course.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, trying to hide the evidence of her tears.
He came closer. She noted he wasn’t in his uniform. Perhaps he’d gone out after work or had put in a few hours at Garner Adventure. The clothes were nothing special, just a faded pair of jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt. But he wore them better than any man she knew.
“You looked upset,” he said, and gave her a long perusal. “I just wanted to make sure there’s not a problem.”
No problem, she almost said, and sniffled, realizing she wasn’t kidding anyone. “I just got off the phone with my ex. He wants me to stop using the Delaney Scott label on my handbags and shoes—the ones already manufactured.”
“I thought he got the name in the divorce.”
“He did. But according to my lawyer’s interpretation, the decision isn’t retroactive to include merchandise made before the ruling.”
“Ah.” Colt nodded his head. “What if it is?”
She let out a sigh. “It’s going to cost me a lot of money.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Me too. Would you like to come in for a glass of wine . . . or some of that beer you brought over?” The invitation had just sort of popped out of her mouth, and from the way his eyes had shifted toward his house, she fully expected him to decline the offer.
“Yeah, okay. But I’ve got an early day tomorrow.” He came up the stairs and followed her inside.
Suddenly she felt awkward, like she might’ve given him the wrong impression. Of course, he’d asked her into his bedroom the other night, but that had been to see how bright the light in her studio was. Still, there’d been this weird sexual tension and she didn’t want him to think that she was hitting on him, which he probably got a lot of.
She led him through the front room into the kitchen and he took a stool at the breakfast bar while she went to the cupboard. “Wine or beer?”
