“Of course not,” she says with a hint of sarcasm. “Did you need some service from me?”
That one, I also try to read for clues, this time without feeling annoyed by it. I am still a man, after all.
“Actually, yes. I owe you another white dress. Be in my office at six tonight.”
There’s a pause on the other end, and I smile to myself. She’s probably seething at the demand.
“There’s no ulterior motive here, Sloane. I’m not going to try and fuck you if that’s your concern.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I doubt I could bill that to my firm.”
Is that a hint of resentment I sense? Something about it pleases a part of me that is driven by something more primal than just my ego.
“I’d be curious to see how you’d classify that. Perhaps discovery?”
“What exactly is there to discover?”
“You tell me.”
She just sighs on the other end. “And tonight? Will we have moved past the discovery phase and straight toward a settlement agreement? One with answers hopefully?”
“I hate to break it to you, Sloane, but I’m afraid this one is going to trial, the full forty days. Consider tonight your first day in court. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”
“Well then, I suppose I should start prepping. At least I’ll have something to report back to my superiors.”
“Have they been keeping tabs on you?” I ask, feeling irked at the idea.
“Of course, I’m still an associate, after all.”
“For now.”
I can almost feel the rush of triumph that must be running through her veins at the thought of partnership being so close within her reach.
Hell, she’s earned it.
“I’ll see you at six, Sloane.”
“Yes, you will…boss.”
Chapter Forty-Four Sloane
I see the white dress and shoes hanging up near Magnus’s desk as soon as I enter his office. Considering the hour, not to mention the city, I should have known tonight would be another social event. I wonder what it is this time.
It had been a few days since he called me earlier this morning. I’m ashamed to admit to myself how resentful it made me. My mind raced with the ideas of some Lara or Lisette filling his days—or nights—despite his assurances that he “doesn’t pay for sex.”
It wasn’t just the jealousy that ate at me. I actually missed him. Imagine that!
But I have to admit, I enjoy our verbal sparring and the way he challenges both my intellect, ambitions, and yes, even my morality. Being with him, here in this city makes me feel like Dorothy after she landed in The Land of Oz. Life is colorful, filled with all the vivid hues of the rainbow, from the danger and excitement of red to the passion and desire of purple. Honestly, it’s been so dull without him—one can only visit the spa so much—that I started working on other cases for Douglas & Foster, much to Jamie Reaves’s delight.
I get why Magnus can’t directly use me for whatever plans he has. The New York Bar Committee on Professional Ethics would have a field day with my ass. Still, a part of me isn’t just curious about what he’s up to, but itching to take part in it.
Maybe I’m more bloodthirsty than I thought?
“I assume those are for me?” I say, pointing at the ensemble.
Magnus smiles from behind his desk. “You don’t have to wear them.” His eyes scan me up and down. “I know what my preference would be. Though, I doubt it would fit within the dress code.”
I narrow my gaze at him. “Do I at least get to know what I’m getting dressed for?”
He considers me for a moment. “It’s just a party. Have you heard of the Buddha Bar? The White Party?”
I shake my head, no.
“Well, it’ll be an apt introduction to Monte Carlo nightlife.”
He says it in a slightly distasteful way, as though he has no interest in going himself.
Which means there’s some scheme afoot.
My blood begins to rush as my heart beats a bit faster at the idea. What wild plan has he worked up? Is it another person on this list he seems to have? Maybe Gabriel Fouché himself?
Yes, I’m definitely a shark.
* * *
The dress is stunning, of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Magnus.
It’s a white, strapless Alex Perry number with a ruched bodice that zips in back from the bottom to the top. The shoes are stilettos that have two tiny straps that practically leave my entire foot bare.
Magnus looks surprisingly suave in all white. Dressed in nothing more than white pants and a white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, he still looks like he could dominate a boardroom meeting or million-dollar deal.
I hear the excitement of the White Party long before the car we’re in rolls up to the front of the…restaurant? Club? Bar? I have no idea what this place is, but it definitely seems to be the spot for tonight.
The winding stairs and small terraces leading up to the actual building, which seems to be about four stories up, are lined with people all in white, eating, drinking, and enjoying themselves.
The outside of the place is lit up with white and pale blue lighting. Our driver parks and opens the door for us. Magnus exits and reaches out a hand to help me out. I stare up at the winding staircase and the bar above with wonder.
I was never one for clubbing, even in college—especially in college. Why go to some overhyped scene with overpriced drinks and overly loud music, when there were papers to be completed and books to study? Now, I’m kind of feeling the vibe of the place. As I look at the people having a good time, I think maybe I missed out a little.
Mingling in the crowd are women with face paint and glitter wearing white wigs and white costumes made of feathers and sparkling material that
