Page 35 of Legal Attraction
CHAPTER TEN
THEFIRSTTIMEhe’d met with this man Ronan had felt pity. The guy had been so broken, so upset that his new bride had played him for a fool. And Ronan had been determined to avenge the man, like he’d wanted to avenge his father for all the pain he’d suffered.
But Arte Armand and Muriel hadn’t been married very long. How much could he have actually suffered?
Ronan hadn’t known her very long, either, though, and he was suffering. His body was tense and aching for hers. And it had only been a couple of days since she’d come here and given him that envelope with her name smeared across the front of it. Had someone given her the memos in that envelope? Or had something else been in it and she was just claiming that it had held those forged memos?
He didn’t know what to believe anymore. That was why he’d asked Arte Armand to come to the office. They sat back by the bar where Ronan had had sex with the man’s ex. Arte sat across from him, his legs crossed. Ronan could almost smell Muriel—in the office.
A twinge of guilt struck him.
But Arte didn’t look as broken as he had the day of their first appointment. His eyes were dry and bright now. His face was tanned, his body relaxed. He wore jeans that were as artfully ripped up as Muriel’s had been and a bright pink silk shirt with the cuffs rolled back to reveal the black and white polka dots on the other side of the fabric.
“I’m glad you called,” the man said. “I was going to set up an appointment to talk to you, anyway.”
“You were?” Had the guy gotten married again? Only a little over six months had passed since his divorce had been granted. That was enough time to get into a serious relationship. But to get married again...
Why would he risk it if his marriage to Muriel had been as terrible as he’d claimed?
“Yes, but I’ve been busy with the musical I’ve been producing.”
With Muriel’s money. And Ronan felt another twinge of guilt—this time for her.
“Really?” Ronan asked. “I didn’t know you were interested in theater.”
Arte laughed. “Oh, goodness, yes, that’s why I moved to the city. I’m a triple threat. I can sing and dance and act.”
How good an actor was he? So good that he’d fooled Ronan?
“But you were modeling.”
Arte grinned, revealing perfect blindingly white teeth. “It was easier to break into modeling than acting. But I’ve found exactly the right vehicle now to launch my career.”
Muriel. She had been the vehicle. And Ronan had given him the keys.
“I can’t help you with entertainment law,” Ronan said. “I’m strictly a divorce lawyer.”
“Oh, that’s not why I wanted to see you again,” Arte replied. “It’s about this whole The World’s Most Beautiful Woman thing.”
Muriel. She was not a thing. Ronan clenched his jaw to hold back his remarks.
“That’s because of us,” Arte continued. “So shouldn’t we get a part of it?”
“I don’t want the title,” Ronan said. But he was beginning to wonder about Arte Armand.
His hair was expertly styled, the tresses highlighted in gold. The same color that was Simon’s natural hue.
Arte laughed again, and it was nearly as high-pitched as a giggle. “Of course not.”
“Then what do you want?” Ronan asked.
“Money,” Arte replied, as if it should have been obvious.
And it should have been—from their first meeting—that that was what he was all about. Money.
“I think she should give me a percentage of what she’s making now,” Arte said, “since we made her so famous.”
We. Ronan flinched, and his stomach pitched with queasiness from guilt. He wanted to shout at the man to stop saying that—stop giving him so damn much credit for what they’d done to Muriel.
