Safe Space (Book 1) Read online

  I did as instructed as Gabby repeated over and over that everything was gonna be all right.

  Chapter One

  Chanel

  “You know, when I agreed to move to Houston, this isn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.”

  I laughed as I picked up the receiver of my office phone, taking it off the speaker. “What’s the problem now, Gab?” I grinned, just knowing she was getting ready to complain about her boss. After five years of living in the City of Angels, I’d made the decision to move back home to Houston. It wasn’t too hard to convince Gabby to move as well, and I was grateful.

  “Nothing, just that ‘Dr. Grabby Hands’ is in the office today.”

  I frowned. “Gab, I thought he only came in the office on weekends. Are you in the office alone with him?”

  Gab worked as a massage therapist and esthetician in a plastic surgeon office. One doctor in particular had taken a liking to her and at times made things uncomfortable for her. When she’d approached the head surgeon about it, he’d immediately rectified the situation so that “Dr. Grabby Hands” and Gabby never worked at the same time. Although I knew my best friend wouldn’t hesitate to handle the guy if she needed to, I didn’t like the idea of her being in that position.

  “Nah, there’s a couple of other docs in today, but one had to call out, so Grabby Hands is taking over his patients for the day. It’s cool. I’m only here for another couple of hours. He hasn’t even looked at me today.”

  I could still hear the tension in her voice. “Gab, have you looked at any of the office spaces I sent over to you last week? When we agreed to move out here, you were so gung-ho about opening your own spa.” It’d been months, and she hadn’t taken any steps to begin opening her business.

  “I’ve just been busy. Between the office, my side clients, and volunteering at the shelter, I hardly have any time.”

  “You’re making excuses.” I didn’t have to sweeten my delivery for Gabby. We both knew she was stalling for some reason which she was refusing to address.

  “So, I’m not busy?” she challenged.

  “Of course, you’re busy. But you make time for what you want, and for some reason you’re not making time for this. If it’s the money, I already told you—”

  “It’s not the money,” she interrupted. “And you will not offer me another red cent. You’ve already given me enough.”

  “I didn’t give you anything. That was your money.”

  “Yes, money that was supposed to go to rent, and instead of using it for that purpose, your sheisty ass had to save it behind my back.” The irritation in her voice made me laugh.

  This little back-and-forth had gone on for months, ever since Gabby found out that I’d never spent any of the rent money she’d given me. A month after I moved to L.A., more than five years prior, I purchased a two-bedroom condo close to the law office where I worked. A few months later, Gabby’s apartment building caught on fire. I insisted she move in with me because I had space. She agreed but insisted on paying rent. I didn’t need it and told her as much, but she continued to slip me money each month, so I decided to open a separate savings account. When we finally decided to move to Houston, and Gabby thought this city would be the right place to open the spa she’d always wanted to own, I told her about the bank account and signed every penny over to her. It was the least I could do for the person who’d saved my life.

  “Call me sheisty all you want, but you’ve got the money to open your spa and a friend who’d be more than happy to loan you more if you needed it. No matter what you say,” I raised my voice on that last sentence to drown out her protests. A second later, my phone buzzed. “Gab, hold on, that’s my assistant.

  “Yes, Liza,” I answered my assistant.

  “Ms. Richards, there’s a Marjorie Combs here to see you.”

  My eyebrows raised in confusion. “What the hell is she doing here?”

  “I’m not sure, Ms. Richards. She doesn’t have an appointment but says she’s willing to wait.”

  I cleared my throat, realizing I’d asked the question out loud. “Um, okay, Liza. Just give me a minute before you send her in.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I made a mental reminder to tell Liza to refer to me by my first name. I hated the formality of being referred to by my last name.

  “Hey, Gabby. I gotta go. Marjorie’s here.”

  “Ohh, the step-mama?”

  “Don’t call her that!” I hissed into the phone.

  “Well, that’s what she is.”

  “Whatever. You just check out those places I sent you last week,” I grumbled and hung up the phone. A second later there was a knock on my closed office door. “Come in,” I called out.

  My door pushed open and in stepped Liza and behind her, Marjorie. My father’s wife of the past year-and-a-half. I took in her five-foot-six stature, made taller by her four-inch heels. Her white pantsuit looked crisp against her warm, honey-toned skin. Her straight brown hair stopped at her shoulders in a bob, similar to how I wore my hair. Her sharp gaze pinpointed on me as I sat behind my desk. Although she was in her mid-fifties, anyone would be able to tell this was a woman who kept herself up. I pulled my lips up into what I hoped looked like a pleasant smile.

  “Thank you, Liza. Marjorie, please have a seat,” I offered as Liza made her exit. I closed the plastic container of the salad I’d been eating before Gabby had called and threw it in the wastebasket under my desk before. “What can I do for you?” I asked Marjorie.

  She smiled, and I thought, not for the first time, how beautiful she was. My father sure knew how to choose his women. What I found most surprising about Marjorie wasn’t her beauty, but the fact that she was a career woman. She was a partner at one of the top engineering firms in the city. She was a far cry from the stay-at-home wife my mother had been, or the one my father had tried to raise me to be. Which also made me curious as to why she was in my office in the middle of the day on a Tuesday afternoon. Our firms were nowhere near each other.

  “Chanel, I apologize for just popping in on you like this, but I just had a lunch meeting with a client nearby and wanted to stop by and say hello.”

  I raised my eyebrow, remaining silent. Marjorie laughed at my expression. She knew I knew what she’d just said was bullshit.

  “Okay, okay. The lunch part is true, although it was nowhere near here,” Marjorie laughed, which caused me to smile. The woman was nothing if not charming, although I still didn’t know her very well. “Truth is, I’ve wanted to speak to you for a while now. It’s been months since you moved to Houston, but you rarely come by the house or call.”

  Now I was seriously confused. To be honest, there wasn’t much reason for me to call or stop by the house. I just didn’t have that type of relationship with her or my father.

  “I mean, Jason’s over at least twice a week with Tori and the kids. Which is crazy considering your father and brother already see each other every day at work.”

  “Well, they’ve always been close,” I shrugged, swallowing down the resentment that began to build in my stomach.

  “I know, and you were out living in L.A., which is why I assumed we didn’t see you all that much, but now you’re back, and I know your father would like to see you more often.”

  I unwittingly scoffed at that. “Marjorie, I’m not sure what gave you that impression, but if he wanted to see me more, he has my number. As for Jason, I was just over his place this weekend spending time with Tori and the kids.”

  “She told me, and that’s why I wanted to invite you over this Friday evening. I’d like to try and get everyone together one Friday a month for dinner and family time.”

  “Marjorie, I don’t know,” I began, shaking my head. “Look,” I sighed, figuring I’d be upfront. “If your invitation has anything to do with trying to get in my father’s good graces or something, you can give that a rest. He already married you and doesn’t really care too much for what I do, so…” I shrugged.
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br />   Marjorie’s face contorted into shock at my words, and then her brows cast downward in what appeared to be an honest indication of sadness. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so straightforward, but hell, the truth was the truth. She wasn’t about to gain any Brownie points from my father or me by inviting me to dinner.

  “That makes me sad to hear you believe that.”

  “That I believe that? It’s not what I believe; it’s what’s true.”

  “Listen.” She moved forward in the chair, placing her clasped hands on the edge of my desk imploringly. “I know there’s been some rift between you and your father for a while now. Long before I came into the picture, but I know he wants to change that.”

  “Marjorie. My father is one of the top attorneys in the state— hell, the country. He has no problem expressing himself anywhere at any time. If he wanted us to be closer, he’d open his mouth and say so, or make some effort. He hasn’t, and that’s fine with me. I didn’t move back to Houston to be closer to him. I moved back because Houston is home. I don’t think—”

  “Okay,” she held up her hands, surrendering, “I won’t try to convince you of your father’s intentions. But I’d still like you to come Friday evening.”

  I had no idea why this woman was so insistent, but I finally relented. “Sure, I’ll be there. What time?”

  “Dinner is served at seven, but we’re having drinks and hors d’oeuvres at six-thirty,” she grinned.

  “All right, six-thirty it is. I’ll see you then.”

  “Great, see you then. Enjoy the rest of your week,” Marjorie said as she stood up with the grace of a woman who knew who she was.

  Once she was gone, I went over the conversation in my head, asking myself if what she said was true. Could my father want a closer relationship with me? Then I thought about the fact that I’d been back in Houston for six months and had only seen him a handful of times, and dismissed her words. What I said had been true; my father had built one of the most well-respected law firms in the state. He had been practicing for more than thirty years, and I knew there wasn’t anything he didn’t want that he didn’t get. So, for Marjorie to think he’d wanted some better daughter-father relationship, but just hadn’t taken the time to act on it, was beyond me. But it also wasn’t my problem right now either.

  Peering at the clock on my office phone, I noted I had about ten minutes before a scheduled meeting with a new client. I spent the next few minutes getting out my client file and gathering the information Liza had provided me on the client. So far, I knew Michele Wyatt was in her mid-thirties with two children under the age of five, and she wanted a divorce. When I turned the page to see who her husband was, I closed my eyes, inhaling. This case was going to be a long one.

  “Ms. Richards, your two o’clock is here,” Liza chimed on the intercom.

  “Send her in.”

  A few moments later, I stood peering up at my door as the petite brunette appeared. I walked over to my newest client, sticking out my hand to shake hers in greeting. “Mrs. Wyatt, come in and have a seat,” I offered.

  “Please, call me Michele.”

  I nodded. “Michele it is. According to my assistant, you’ve been married for six years, have two children, ages four and two, and you want a divorce,” I stated, as I sifted through the papers in the file.

  “Yes, that’s right,” she nodded. “And I don’t want anyone else to handle my divorce. I’ve read about your records in Los Angeles, and you’ve handled some divorces and custody issues for big-name clients.”

  I nodded, liking that she’d done her research. I perched my elbows on my desk and leaned in so Michele would understand the gravity of what I was about to tell her. “I’m glad you’ve done your research on me. You should know I work like a dog for every single one of my clients, high profile or not. However, I want to warn you, a divorce like yours will not be easy. Your husband is a very highly and respected man in this city. Hell, his face is on the billboard right behind me.” I paused as Michele glanced over my shoulder out my office’s floor-to-ceiling window. I’m sure she easily spotted the huge billboard with Jacob Wyatt dressed in his Houston Stallions uniform, posing as if about to throw the football like the star quarterback he was.

  “I’m well aware,” she stated, and her eyes shifted back to me with a look of desperation in them. “But I want out, and considering who my husband’s lawyers are, I need someone in my corner with a reputation like yours.”

  “Who has your husband obtained as his attorney?”

  “A division of his entertainment law firm, Combs & Combs.”

  I cut my eyes toward the corner of the room, cursing under my breath. I should’ve known it. A top athlete like Jacob Wyatt would no doubt have the best of the best at his service.

  “Is that a problem?” she asked worriedly.

  I shook my head. “Not for me, but I should inform you that Elliott and Jason Combs are my father and brother.”

  Her dark brows raised in confusion. “Elliott Combs is your father?”

  I nodded solemnly. “Yes, but that does not prohibit me from taking you on as a client. I’d never violate our attorney-client privilege,” I assured.

  She waved her hand. “I was just confused because of your last name...” she trailed off.

  “Yes, I go by my mother’s maiden name.”

  “Oh,” Michele said, nodding as if she understood there was more to the story.

  “If you’re concerned about my relation to them, know that I would never violate—” I halted when she held up a hand.

  “Ms. Richards, as I’ve stated, I checked your records, and I’ve spoken to some of your former clients. You’re very good at what you do, and more importantly, you care about your clients, not just about the money. I need that right now. I know this won’t be easy. I know my husband will try to fight me every step of the way and hold our children over my head to do it. He has an army over there, and I need someone just as committed. You being Elliott Combs’ daughter makes me even more certain. I’ve seen both your father and brother in action, and if you’ve got half the same chutzpah, we’re going to be all right,” she grinned.

  “Then it looks like you’ve come to the right place. Let’s get down to business, shall we?” I spent the next hour going over in detail Michele’s reasons for wanting a divorce. She discussed the time apart due to his busy schedule, which was normal for a professional athlete. She went on to discuss how she’d caught him having numerous affairs over the course of their marriage. Luckily for me, she’d even hired a private investigator to demonstrate proof of his infidelity. I took the PI’s information from her to contact him later. Michele stated they already lived separate lives as of the last six months, although they weren’t legally separated. Despite her being forthcoming on some of the details, I knew there was more Michele was holding back. When she discussed her husband, there was a look of fear that rose up in her eyes which, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t hide. Not from me, at least. I’d seen that look too many times, sometimes when I looked in the mirror.

  “Michele, I’m going to ask a serious question, and I need your complete honesty. Remember, nothing you tell me goes beyond me if you don’t want it to, all right?” I waited for her to nod.

  “Has your husband ever been abusive to you?”

  I didn’t need to hear her answer. The way her eyes began to water, and she began shaking her left leg, told me everything I needed to know. I grabbed the box of tissues from my desk and handed it to her. “We’re going to get you through this, okay, Michele?” I assured her, knowing that this divorce just got a lot more complicated.

  ****

  By the time I left my office that evening, it was well after seven o’clock. I’d spent another two hours discussing the next steps of the process with Michele. I had my work cut out for me with this case. In addition to that, I had three other ongoing divorces and one custody case I was handling at present. Needless to say, I was exhausted by the time I stepped out o
f the elevator and into the lobby of the downtown office building that housed the law firm I worked for. I’d begun dreaming about the bottle of Pinot Noir I had waiting for me at home.

  “Chanel?”

  I started looking around the lobby to see who called my name, but I should’ve already known who it was when goosebumps formed along my skin. That voice, smooth as silk, always elicited the same reaction.

  “Xavier,” I greeted, doing my best to ignore the breathless quality my voice had taken on. “What are you doing here so late?” It was close to eight o’clock, and most of the offices here had closed hours ago.

  “I had a meeting that ran over.”

  I stared at Xavier, mesmerized by his coffee brown eyes, which held such intensity. I allowed my gaze to skim down his body to find his six-feet-one-inch frame draped in a well-tailored dark brown suit. The man looked like walking sin with his slightly pigeon-toed strut as he came toward me. Men like this really shouldn’t be allowed out after five o’clock, I thought, not for the first time.

  “What are you doing here?” he countered.

  “Wha—? Oh. I’m leaving work.”

  His head shot backward in surprise as he whistled low. “Leaving work now?” He peered down at his watch. “Long day for you, huh?”

  I blew out a long breath. “You have no idea,” I laughed.

  “I forgot, Jay said you worked at Johnson & Taylor.”

  “Oh, he told you? I’m surprised he hasn’t been going around telling everyone I work at McDonald's,” I laughed.

  “Yeah, he’s still pissed you decided to work for the enemy.” The deep sound of his chuckle sent a small chill through me. The dimple that appeared on his left cheek left me wanting so much more.

  I knew it was time for me to go.

  I waved a hand dismissively. “Jay’ll get over it. Listen, Xavier, it was good to see you. Take care.” I tried to make my escape when his words halted me for a second time.

  “Did you park in the garage?”

  “Yeah, it’s right across the street.”

  “Cool, I’ll walk you out. It’s getting dark, and no woman should be out here walking alone. Especially not my boy’s little sister.”