The Clermont court reporter’s office, though a drab, gray two-story, was a welcome sight to Lilah. First because she’d chugged a venti latte on the way over and refused to stop for her needs, and second because she had seven minutes until meeting time.
After a two-minute trip to the bathroom she dashed over to the meeting rooms where a darker gentleman in his fifties stood with his hands in the pockets of his pressed khakis. Square black glasses sat on a rounded nose, and his dark hair was parted and combed neatly to the side. A bigger man, wide with broad shoulders.
“Delilah Creed? I’m Salvadore DiMarco. My attorney told me she’d be transferring the case to you since you’re a better fit for my needs.”
Good one, Samantha.
Lilah shook his hand, a bit rougher than she expected for a business owner, then gestured for him to sit in a hallway chair. They had five minutes before the conference and she intended to use every one of them.
“Tell me a little about yourself and what’s important to you in this case.”
Salvadore smiled, the warmth in his expression making her feel at ease. “I own Palms Recycling. We have the largest facility in Florida for recycling building materials. We do demolition and crushing then supply the recycled material to our buyers. The company’s revenues were just shy of fifty million last year.” His eyes gleamed with pride.
Lilah almost dropped the files in her lap. She’d glanced at the company name on the way over but hadn’t recognized it. Lucrative case, indeed. Samantha was nuts for handing this guy over. She really must have been in a jam to give up representing him.
“And does your wife have any ownership in the company?”
He sighed. “We started PRC on her uncle’s empty lot over twenty years ago using start up funds from selling her car. The paperwork from the 80s has joint ownership. She did the books and I did all the management and sales, building PRC up to what it is today. We’ve had some issues the past few years with competitors lowering prices and the increasing cost of demolition. My company might not be worth as much as it once was, but it’s my baby.” He winked.
A familiar warmth bloomed in Lilah’s heart. “I know exactly what you mean.”
“Things got side tracked somewhere along the way with Cheyenne and me. What we once had was…everything.” He removed his glasses. “We used to laugh all the time and sneak kisses at the office, even after we’d been married for ten years. I always worked a lot. I had to. She said I never paid attention to her anymore. That didn’t mean she had to…” His chin quivered. He swallowed and put his glasses back on. “This company is all I have left. I need full ownership. She can move on with her life and have whatever she wants. Not Palms Recycling. I need it. Please.”
The desperation in his voice pulled at Lilah’s heartstrings.
She smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle on her decade old skirt. Full ownership would take some work and she didn’t want to disappoint him. Why wouldn’t a man with this much money go with a bigger firm? Samantha represented some wealthier clients but this guy even seemed out of her league. It didn’t matter now. Salvadore spent years, decades, of his sweat and tears making personal sacrifices to get his company to grow. Maybe it wasn’t quite the perfect entity he envisioned, but it was a little piece of his soul.
Lilah stood, squared her shoulders and put on her business face. This guy wanted his baby and she would do everything she could to get it.
Holding her head high, she stepped into the meeting room.
And stopped immediately.
There across the table next to a platinum blonde sat Jackson Levy.
A wide grin broke across his face. “Well, hello there.”
No. Absolutely not. Jackson Levy could not be her opposing counsel. What was he doing in town anyway? His family owned Levy and Levy, a firm infamous for their sleazy clients. They had offices all over the state—Jacksonville, Miami, Tallahassee…—what the hell was he doing practicing law in her town? The arrogant lift of his lip was the same one from their run-in this morning.
Lilah still needed to win this case. She sat down, ignoring Jackson, and focused on anything else in the room…gray carpet, basic table with rolling chairs, stained dry-erase board, and a server with an old coffee maker and a few cups. She kept her eyes on the coffee mugs right behind his head. One had a blue swan on it. She stopped herself from rolling her eyes. It seemed she couldn’t escape her enemies today.
“Cheyenne.” Salvadore greeted the platinum blonde.
She smiled with square, too-white teeth, a bright contrast to her animal print shirt. Though her hair was the color of bleached straw, her brows were a dark brown, almost black. “Salvadore,” she purred.
“Shall we get started, Ms. Creed?” Jackson asked, opening his file folder.
Pages of neatly clipped documents filled the folder and a page full of notes sat on top. Jackson had days, probably weeks to prepare for this meeting. Lilah remembered he was a formidable, manipulative opponent in the best of circumstances. No preparation? She’d be a lamb at the slaughter if she didn’t think quick. She needed to take the lead on this fast.
“Mr. DiMarco wants full ownership of PRC.”
“Full ownership?” Cheyenne almost leapt out of her seat. “You arrogant, unappreciative, self-serving bastard! I’ve busted my ass for over twenty years making sure every bill was paid, every invoice correct, every dime there to make the payroll. What the hell makes you think I’m going to—”
“Ms. DiMarco.” Jackson put his hand on her arm, stopping her tirade.
She relaxed instantly. “I told you to call me Cheyenne.” She practically batted her eyelashes at him. Gross. Things sure hadn’t changed at all since law school.
Salvadore shifted in his seat.
Lilah flipped open her folder, reviewing the list of assets she scanned at a red light. Salvadore didn’t mention anything about wanting the houses listed there and he did say Cheyenne could have whatever she wanted.
“You own three homes. We’ll let you pick two of the three in exchange for your ownership portion in Palms Recycling.”
Jackson laughed. “Let’s see. The top two estates are worth a combined three million and her share of PRC is five million. I don’t think so. I’d ask if you went to law school at all but unfortunately, I know the answer.” His eyes danced with merriment.
“I’d have thought you would’ve grown out of childish personal attacks by now. One of those homes is in Fort Dalton where they are rejuvenating the downtown and will increase dramatically in value over the next two years. We also haven’t discussed…” she glanced over the list again, “…the cars.”
Salvadore stiffened next to her. Well if he wanted his company, he was going to have to make some concessions. That’s how these things worked.
Cheyenne sprouted a wolf-life grin. “Yes, what about the cars?”
“Let’s put the estates at three million, add in the cars worth…” Lilah scanned the page and did some quick mental math. “…almost one million. Mr. DiMarco can take out a loan for the additional million and pay that up front during the transfer of ownership.”
Salvadore coughed. “No. I cannot do this.”
Lilah leaned over to him, “You won’t have a problem getting the loan and the rates right now are pretty decent. You’ll be able to pay it off in probably five years.”
“Not the loan. The cars.” He rubbed his brow. “Cheyenne is a terrible driver and she’ll ruin them.” His eyes rounded like a kitten’s.
Cheyenne’s smile widened, a shark smelling blood in the water. “I want the cars.”
“No…I…no.” Salvadore stuttered.
“You want your company and I want the cars. You can’t have both.”
Sweat beaded on Salvadore’s brow. Were cars really more important to him than his entire company?
“Mr. DiMarco, remember your primary goal in this,” Lilah whispered.
Jackson leaned back in his seat. “Probably should have discussed that before coming to a settlement meeting.”
Lilah could have melted glass with the fire in her eyes. Damn Jackson, but he was right. She hadn’t been prepared for this and had no time to explain why.
“Not the cars,” Salvadore said. “Let’s look at something else to split. Or I can take out a larger loan.”
Cheyenne crossed her arms and annunciated each word. “I. Want. The. Cars.”
“You don’t care about the cars! You never have!” Salvadore’s yell bounced off the empty walls. Lilah put her hand on his arm. Divorce often brought out the worst side in people, making them act in ways they never would.
“All right, Mr. DiMarco. It seems we are at an impasse.” Jackson closed the folder. “Why don’t we take some time to reevaluate our priorities and in the meantime, I’ll contact a mediator and see about setting up a meeting.”
Lilah bristled at his condescending tone. The sooner this case was settled, the better. “Fine,” she said as she stood. “We’ll see you at mediation.”
“Looking forward to it,” Jackson said. The bastard had the audacity to wink.