Dear Future Ex-wife Read online

  Dear Future Ex-wife

  Jillian Quinn

  Contents

  Also by Jillian Quinn

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Also by Jillian Quinn

  About the Author

  Also by Jillian Quinn

  Standalone Romantic Comedies

  Dear Future Ex-wife

  Face-Off Series

  Parker

  Kane

  Donovan

  Jameson

  Ethan

  Dean

  Face-Off Legacy Series

  Pucking Parker

  Keeping Kane

  Teaching Tucker

  Jocking Jameson

  Kissing Killian

  Defending Donovan

  Standalone Sports Novels

  Prince Pucking Charming

  Most Desirable Player

  For a complete list of books, updates, and new releases, visit JillianQuinnBooks.com.

  Copyright © 2020 by Jillian Quinn

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at JillianQuinnBooks.com

  Cover by Najla Qamber Designs

  Editing by My Brother’s Editor

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, both living or deceased, establishments, businesses, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter One

  Harley

  Nathan King is the Devil. There’s no other explanation for why he’s making my life hell. My ex-best friend has a reputation with women, but this is a new low, even for Nate.

  My chest tightens at the sight of the pictures, dozens with Nate half-naked and with an unnamed blonde. Blowing on my coffee, I scroll through the email from Callie Bloom. She’s known as The Gossip Queen and writes a weekly column by the same name. Callie is my friend from Philadelphia, and the last person you would ever want to know your business.

  My cell phone buzzes across my desk. Callie’s short curly hair and silly expression appear on my screen.

  Before I can say hello, she says, “I know you read my email.”

  I laugh for the first time this morning, and it feels good. “Yeah, but would you give me a few minutes to read the articles? I was going to call you.”

  “Don’t panic, girl. I got you.”

  “Nate really screwed us this time. Look at all of these headlines.” I shake my head as I flip between the websites. “Nate King is a Bad Investment. Titan Tech Rethinking King Deal. Shareholders Dump King Stock.”

  “You can fix this,” she assures me.

  “How? The future of Queen Takes King is dependent on the deal with Titan Tech. Titan was already suspicious of Nate’s previous escapades. He promised to stay off the radar until after the deal closed. Nate only had to wait one damn week.”

  I click through the links to various news outlets. Variety has a nice spread about Nate and his playboy ways. There are pictures of him from multiple angles with the mystery blonde dressed in skimpy black lingerie. In one image, Nate is shirtless, his boxers pushed down by his companion’s hand. Thankfully, this angle doesn’t reveal more than I care to see.

  From the looks of the background, they must have been on a balcony in Center City Philadelphia. Skyscrapers and bright lights serve as the backdrop to this disgusting encounter. Nate’s penthouse apartment if I had to guess. After a quick Google search, I find a dozen more articles about Nate. Some of the writers are criticizing our fathers for making a poor choice in executives. Tech Crunch has a quick blurb about how Nate will be the slow death of our family’s cutting-edge technology. I agree with them one hundred percent.

  Callie blows air into the phone. “Between you and me, I’m dying to know if you’re the girl from the pictures. You can tell me if you are. You know I won’t say anything.”

  I snort at her comment. “Since when does The Gossip Queen know how to keep her mouth shut?”

  “Ha! You can tell your bestie the truth. So, you and Nate, did you finally hook up?”

  “Of course not!” I’m shocked by her accusation. “I wouldn’t kiss Nate if he was the last man alive.”

  Callie cackles so loud it hurts my ear. “Yeah, right. Nate’s the hottest bachelor in the country. You’d jump on his sexy bod in a heartbeat. Unless you don’t have a pulse.” She laughs even louder.

  “Never,” I challenge. “You know how I feel about Nate.”

  How I feel about him now.

  “Why would you think I’m the girl?”

  “She looks a lot like you,” Callie points out as if it’s so obvious.

  I take a quick peek at the images on my computer. “I don’t think so.”

  Do I look like her?

  Maybe.

  “But, you could be the girl,” Callie suggests. “And that’s all that matters.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Your company needs to save face right now.”

  “I’m not following.”

  Callie groans. “C’mon, Harley. How don’t you see it? You could pretend to be the woman. Scandal averted.”

  “No way,” I grunt. “This is Nate’s mess. He never learns his lesson.”

  “But your family could lose the company over it.”

  I sigh into the receiver, wishing she wasn’t right. My family could lose everything because of this nightmare. Queen Takes King, the tech company our fathers co-founded, is my future as well as Nate’s. At least it was until Nate had to destroy what our fathers built with his stupidity.

  “Nate and I can’t stand to be in the same room together. No one would ever believe we were dating.”

  “Just a suggestion.”

  “Haven’t I given up enough for this company?” I blow out a deep breath. “Why do I always have to bail them out when they don’t even see me as their equal?”

  “Your dad will never see you as his equal,” she counters. “But Nate does. If you scratch his back, he will scratch yours.”

  As much as Nate irritates me, he does have some good qualities apart from his looks. He’s a womanizer who has a new model in his bed every night, but he’s always been a supporter of women in executive roles at our company. Of course, my dad would never go for it.

  “I could be the first to break the news,” she suggests. “Other news outlets would follow my lead.”

  Callie has a reputation for dishing out the best gossip. Despite her nickname, she’s a damn good journalist.

  “I’m sure our PR team is already working on something to save Nate’s ass.”

  “Okay, okay.
I get it. You know where to find me.” She takes a loud sip of something and then says, “I know Nate doesn’t have a problem getting laid, but how’s your love life going out there in Cali?”

  “Okay, I guess. I met this guy a few weeks ago. We’re going on our third date tonight.”

  “I always thought you and Nate would end up together. You two bicker like an old married couple.”

  “That’s because he drives me crazy. And no, there’s never been anything between us. Just friends and now, less than that.”

  “I’ve never grown apart from Jules. It would be like cutting off my arm.”

  She’s referring to her best friend, Juliet Frost, who writes a column at Market House called The Date Diva.

  “Jules could give you some dating advice,” she offers. “If you need it…”

  I blush at her comment. “No, that’s okay. I just haven’t found the right guy yet.”

  “Your decision to move so far away was kind of—”

  “Unexpected,” I finish.

  “You could say that. It was like you couldn’t wait to get away from all of us.”

  “Just Nate.”

  “You never told us what happened with Nate.”

  “We grew apart,” I confess, which is the truth. “You know what Nate was like in high school. Mr. Popular, with all of his popular friends. He didn’t have time for me anymore.”

  She sighs. “Same answer every time. One day, I’ll get the real story out of you.”

  I shake my head and laugh. “That is the real story.”

  A loud noise in the background forces me to move the phone away from my ear. Several voices are talking over each other, and then Callie says, “Let me know what you want me to write about you-know-who, okay?”

  “You-know-who? Since when did Nate become Voldemort? You can say his name.”

  A loud cackle pierces my eardrum. “And this is why I miss you, babe. Anyways, I have to go. News to find. Gossip to share. Love ya. Byyyeee.”

  The line goes dead before I can respond.

  I stare at the screen, thinking over our conversation. Why did Callie think I was the girl in the pictures? Nate would never go for a plain Jane like me. Sure, I have the same long, blonde hair and pale, freckled skin as this girl. But our similarities end there.

  Still aggravated with Nate, I open a blank email and type Nathan King into the TO box, and his email address auto-fills. He deserves a scathing phone call, but I try to limit my time with Nate whenever possible.

  I copy a few of the links to articles and paste them into the message field. If his dad hasn’t already murdered him, I want to be the first to congratulate him on putting the nail in the coffin of our company. I hover the mouse over the screen and stare at the blinking cursor, unsure of what I want to say to him. My cheeks burn from the anger surging through my veins.

  Hands trembling, I change my mind and close out of the email. Instead of waiting for a delayed response, I take the faster route and open a new chat window in the QTK Messenger platform we use for internal communication. Nate invented the chat software after he graduated from MIT, and our company has used it ever since.

  The green circle in the corner of the window next to his name indicates Nate is online. Perfect timing. I attach the picture of Nate in his boxers and type out a quick message.

  Harley McQueen: And here I thought you went commando.

  A few seconds later, a bubble appears on the screen as he types a response. I hold my breath, now regretting my decision to send that to him. Nate takes everything the wrong way. His usual retorts always involve something sexual, and I just handed him the permission he needs to act like his usual jerky self.

  Nathan King: I knew you thought of me naked. Most women do.

  Bastard, I mutter under my breath.

  My lip quivers in anger. With my hands balled into fists on my desk, I stare out the windows that overlook Hollywood, fixing my gaze on the cars whipping down Wilshire Boulevard. I came to Southern California for the sunshine and the beach. Most of all, I wanted to leave Nate in my rearview mirror. But no amount of distance will ever be enough. We still have to work together, whether we like it or not, and one day this company will belong to both of us.

  Harley McQueen: The last time I saw you naked, I wasn’t that impressed.

  Nathan King: You only wish you saw me naked. If you had, I guarantee you would have most definitely been “impressed.”

  When we were kids, Nate was my best friend. In one summer, Nate grew eight inches, ditched his braces, and got a different haircut. Then, all of a sudden, he wasn’t the nerdy gamer anymore.

  He wasn’t my Nate anymore.

  Mulling over his words, I stare at the screen. What did I expect Nate to say? I have no idea how to talk to him anymore. No matter the topic, most of our conversations turn into sarcastic, sexual innuendo. How did we get to this place? We used to be so good together, when I was the Queen to his King.

  Nathan King: You’re just jealous I’m getting some.

  Furious, I roll my chair back from the desk and groan. I want to drop-kick his ass into next week. Nate’s usual cavalier attitude drives me insane, and he knows it.

  A few seconds pass before I get a grip. No way will I let him win. I slide in front of the keyboard and contemplate my next move, pounding furiously on the keyboard.

  Harley McQueen: Like I would ever be jealous of your disease-ridden skanks. Unlike you, I have standards.

  Childish, I know, but he makes me so damn mad.

  Nathan King: It’s been that long, huh?

  Harley McQueen: No, you idiot.

  Nathan King: Don’t lie to me, Queen.

  Harley McQueen: Stop being a dick, King!

  Nathan King: If you need the cobwebs cleaned off your chastity belt, you know where to find me.

  Before I can respond, Nathan King is offline flashes on the screen.

  Chapter Two

  Nate

  I raise a glass of bourbon to my lips and kick my dress shoe up on the desk. If I’m going to Hell, I might as well get drunk first. Leaning back in my chair, I click on the link to a full-page image of me dressed in my favorite navy Gucci suit with brown wingtips. I’m wearing a wrinkled white oxford unbuttoned down to my belly button with a red silk tie hanging around my neck.

  Who the hell took this picture? It’s from a private party I threw at my penthouse apartment last month. I smirk at the heading that accompanies the image.

  The heir to the King fortune is a bad investment.

  I tip my glass in appreciation and mutter, good one.

  There are five hundred comments beneath the snarky article about my playboy ways. Half of the women talk about my looks. One says, “Looks like a good investment to me,” with a ton of heart-eye emojis after her comment. I hate when women text those to me. A few women left their phone numbers for me to call.

  Not a chance, ladies.

  A new email pops up from Danika Kane. I laugh at all of the exclamation points she added to her email for emphasis. My publicist might kill me if my dad doesn’t beat her to the punch. Danika gets me out of hot water every time. But this time, even her powers of persuasion might not be enough to save this company.

  When a new message appears on my screen, I expect to see Danika’s name. Instead, it’s Harley McQueen. It’s hard to believe we were once best friends, inseparable since we were in diapers. Now, she only talks to me whenever necessary—when I do something that pisses her off. She has kept her distance for years, though she never told me why.

  Harley McQueen: And here I thought you went commando.

  A smirk turns up the right corner of my mouth. She attaches an image of me with a woman’s hand shoved down the front of my boxers. If she knew the truth about those pictures, she wouldn’t speak to me. And if I can help it, Harley will never discover the identity of the woman.

  Nathan King: I knew you thought of me naked. Most women do.

  I laugh into the highball glass, finishing off
the rest of the amber liquid. I wish I could see her reaction. Knowing Harley, her top lip is quivering as she curses my name under her breath. A chat bubble appears as Harley types. She knows how much I love to play with her. After getting my ass chewed out all morning, I could use a little foreplay before I get fucked again.

  Harley McQueen: The last time I saw you naked, I wasn’t that impressed.

  You can do better than that.

  When we were kids, no one put me in my place better than Harley.

  Nathan King: You only wish you saw me naked. If you had, I guarantee you would have most definitely been “impressed.”

  My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for Harley to fight me. C’mon, Harley. Give it to me. This is how our relationship works now. We torture each other with our words, challenge each other in every way possible.

  Another minute passes without a response. What is she doing? Harley initiated the conversation, and I know she wants to rip me a new one.

  So, do it already.

  Some of the crazy shit I’ve done in the past was to get her attention. It’s stupid, I know, but I’ll take whatever time I can get with her. This particular incident, though, wasn’t planned. I worked my ass off to get the deal with Titan Tech. No one wants this more than I do. And now, I have no idea where the future of our company stands.