Dammit, Sloane!
I’m quick to recover, remembering that this is all just a game for him. “I’m not a criminal attorney. Which I suspect you know.”
He smiles, but his eyes remain as predatory as ever. “That’s very interesting, coming from an attorney who no doubt took part in the recent restructuring of Gaultier Financial. How many international crimes was that corporation, not to mention the owner, guilty of? Including murder.”
I feel a sardonic smile come to my lips. “I can handle killing off a corporation. Give me a list of assets and I’ll—how did you phrase it?—take my time feeding, tearing away at the flesh of it until there’s nothing left. Of course, there’s nothing slow about how I operate.”
How’s that for a sales pitch, Shark?
“Of that, I have no doubt,” Magnus muses.
“When it comes to people, I leave that to the true sharks of my profession. Of course, if I were a criminal defense attorney, it would be my duty to inform you that if I have evidence of an ongoing or future crime, as an officer of the court, I’d be obligated to report you.”
“And what exactly would you report, Sloane? You have neither the name of a victim nor a time or place. I doubt you’d even find a body when all is said and done. Probably for the best. I sense his family wouldn’t be making too many sentimental trips to visit his grave. Unlike some other people might for those they cared about.”
That’s most definitely a threat. I’m not stupid enough to respond, even by showing too much fear. The moment he suspects me of something, Magnus will be all too eager to take his first bite of me—if he hasn’t already.
We both take a sip of our drinks, eyeing each other over the rim.
I swallow and set mine down. “I presume dinner is still on the table?”
He smiles in amusement and lowers his eyelids in agreement. “I recommend the fish of the day. It was freshly caught this morning,” he says in a deceptively subtle voice.
One side of my mouth hitches in a humorless smirk.
Very funny, Magnus.
“I prefer something a little meatier,” I say, my eyes scanning the rest of the menu.
“Of that, I have no doubt,” he mutters
My eyes flash up in anger, only to find his focused on the menu before him, but with an obvious smirk on his face.
I curb my emotions and focus on what I want to eat. After nothing but wine, a few pieces of sushi, a bite or two of antipasto, and nibbles of a macaroon, I’m ravenous.
The waiter seems to read my mind, miraculously appearing once I’ve settled on the filet mignon. After giving our orders—Magnus gets the veal—we both return to our drinks and another staring contest.
“Why do either of you want to kill his father?” I finally ask.
“Why does any shark kill?”
“Hunger?”
“Exactly.”
“So you count cannibalism among your crimes now too?”
A wry smile touches his lips. “A different kind of hunger.”
I sigh with exasperation. “Perhaps you could stop talking in metaphors and euphemisms and just give me a straight answer for once.”
“Are we finally being honest with each other now?” He asks, with a dark, intense gaze so direct I flinch in response.
“Okay…” I say hesitantly. I can still find a way to make this work in my favor. “I’ll be honest if you are.”
His eyes fall to the table where the single euro coin still lies. I give him a sardonic glance and slide it back toward myself.
“Acceptance,” I say, suddenly terrified of what he might reveal.
“Now then,” he says with a satisfied smile. It disappears almost as quickly as it came. “Let’s start with what your real interest is in me, Sloane Alexander.”
Play it cool, girl. There’s a way to kill two birds with one stone here.
“Initially, I had none,” I say with as much indifference as I can muster. “Then, I believe you’re the one who sat at my table at the bar this morning.”
“And you’re the one here in my city.”
“You’re the one who moved me to your hotel, sent up your selection of dresses for me to chose from, invited me to your table in your restaurant for dinner, and have now offered to hire me as your attorney. I think the better question is, what your real interest is in me, Magnus Reinhardt?”
I’ve gone too far. A flash of anger brightens his eyes for a brief moment before they go a deadly shade of green again. “And what changed your mind?”
“Changed my mind?”
“About me. You are, after all, sitting here at my table.”
“I suspect I had no choice.”
A hint of a sinister smile whispers across his lips. “And if I were to openly give you one?”
I pause before answering. “As you said, if I were to land you as a client, I’d be guaranteed partner.”
Even though it’s a cover, the overly ambitious part of me roars with the thrill of winning that battle. For once, success isn’t thwarted for Sloane Alexander. Even that pretentious jerk, Jamie Reaves—always so eager to remind me that partnership would be mine if only I knew the “right” kind of people—would have to eat crow.
“Fine,” Magnus says.
I’m still so heady with the idea of victory that I almost miss it. “I’m sorry?”
“I’ll retain your services, those of Douglas & Foster as well.”
“What?” I blink in surprise. My eyes fall down to the coin still on the table in front of me. They rise back up to Magnus, still radiating my confusion.
A cunning smile spreads across his mouth. “I’m aware the hourly rate is slightly higher than that. I have just one condition.”
For some reason, my hand instinctively reaches for the snifter that still has a bit of brandy in it. I take a slow sip, finishing the last of it before responding.
“And what is that?”
“I get you for the full forty days you’re here in Monte Carlo.”
Chapter Seventeen Magnus
I watch her
