Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
His lip curls for the briefest of moments in almost a smile. “Women who look like you don’t usually have a brain.”
My eyebrows shoot up so quickly it’s a shock a migraine doesn’t follow. He did not just say that. “You are one backassward son of a bitch,” I blurt out, completely forgetting any sense of professionalism.
That smile tries to take hold and almost makes it. Not quite, though. “Fuck, you’re a contradiction.” He flattens a hand on the table. A large, tattooed, dangerous looking hand. “As a rule, a beautiful woman is a terrible disappointment.”
Now he’s quoting freakin Carl Jung? “You must’ve had a lot of time to read here in prison . . . the last seven years.”
“I have.” A hardness invades his eyes. “You any good at your job?”
The most inappropriate humor takes me, and I look around the room. “Does it matter? I don’t see a plenitude of counselors in here trying to help you.”
“Big word. Plenitude. I would’ve gone with cornucopia. Has a better sound to it.”
I need to regain control of this situation. “Listen, Mr.—”
He stiffens and I stop. Cold.
We look at each other, and I swear, the room itself has a heartbeat that rebounds around us. I don’t want to back down. But also, I know in every cell of my being, he isn’t issuing idle threats. A man like him never bluffs.
Surprisingly, triumph that I refrain from using his last name doesn’t light his eyes. Instead, contemplation and approval?
I really don’t like that.
My legs tremble like I’ve run ten miles, and my lungs are failing to catch up. I suppose anybody would feel like this if trapped with a hell beast in a small cage. There’s more than fear to my reaction. Adrenaline has that effect on people. That must be it. I reach into my briefcase and retrieve several pieces of paper. “If you want me as your attorney, you need to sign this retainer agreement so I can file a Notice of Appearance with the court.”
“And if I don’t?”
I place the papers on the cold table. “Then have a nice life.” I meet his stare evenly.
“My funds are low. I don’t suppose you’ll take cigarettes or sex in trade?”
Is that amusement in his eyes? That had better not be amusement. I examine his broad shoulders and, no doubt, impressive chest beneath the orange jumpsuit. How can he look sexy in orange? Plus, the man hasn’t been with a woman in seven years—he’d be on fire. A little part of me, one I’ll never admit to, considers the offer just for the, no doubt, multiple and wild orgasms. “I don’t smoke and you’re not my type. But no worries. My firm is taking your case pro bono until we unbind your trust fund.”
He latches onto the wrong part of the statement. “What’s your type?”
I inhale through my nose, trying to keep a handle on my temper.
“Don’t tell me,” he continues, his gaze probing deep. “Three-piece suit, Armani, luxury vehicles?”
“Actually, that’s my best friend’s type,” I drawl. Well, if you add in guns, the Irish mafia, and a frightening willingness to kill.
Alexei scratches the whiskers across his cut jaw. “Right. When was the last time you were with an actual man? You know, somebody who doesn’t ask for guidance every step of the way?”
That fact that I don’t remember is not one I’ll share. My thighs heat, and my temper sparks. “Was this approach charming seven years ago?”
“Not really. Though I didn’t need to be charming back then.”
True. He was the heir to one of the four most powerful social media companies in the world before he went to prison. Apparently, his family had deserted him immediately. “You might want to give it a try now.”
His eyes warm to dark embers, rendering me temporarily speechless. “You don’t think I can charm the panties off you?”
“All right. You need to dial it down.” I hold out a hand and press down on imaginary air. “A lot.”
Heat swells from him. Somehow. “Dial what down?”
“You,” I hiss. “All of this. The obnoxious, rudely sexist, prowling panther routine. Use your brain, if you have one. It’s our first meeting, and you’re driving me crazy. You want me on your side.”
“I’d rather have you under me.”
I shut my eyes and slam both index fingers to the corners, pressing in. This is unbelievable.
“Getting a headache? I know a remedy for that.”
I make the sound of a strangled cat.
His laugh is warm. Rich. Deep.
Jolting, I open my eyes. The laugh doesn’t fit with the criminal vibe. It’s enthralling.
He stops.
I miss the sound immediately. Maybe I need a vacation.
Using one finger, he draws the paper across the table. “Pen.”
I fumble in my briefcase for a blue pen and hand it over.
He signs the retainer quickly and shoves it back at me. “What’s the plan?”