It wasn’t until I saw the name of this new client that I knew why.
And I turned it down without a second’s hesitation.
Both Adam and Jeremy told me I was an idiot. They didn’t understand why I would give up the chance to earn myself so much money. Sure, the firm would get a percentage of the retainer, but the majority would be cash in my pocket.
I couldn’t tell them why I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.
Jeremy cocked his head as he regarded me. “I still don’t know why she requested you and why in god’s name you turned it down. It’s not like you’re Adam with his five million cases.”
Jeremy had been trying to wheedle the truth out of me for over a year. And getting nowhere fast. He should have known by now that if I didn’t want to share, I sure as hell wouldn’t. I couldn't be cajoled and coaxed to reveal more than I wanted to. I didn’t operate that way.
I made keeping secrets an artform.
Something that had ruined more than one thing in my life.
“Did you only come in here to flaunt your paycheck? Because if that’s the case, I’ve got a deposition to prepare for,” I replied shortly, already turning back to my computer.
“Of course I did,” Jeremy laughed, getting to his feet. “And I wanted to make sure you were okay with me taking on more work from Ms. Hardwell.”
I froze. Every inch of me. No sudden movements. A blank expression. “More work? I thought you were all finished. They broke ground on the plaza two weeks ago.”
Jeremy grabbed another mint. “Yeah, well she called earlier to set up a conference call. Says she has plans to buy a house here in Southport. She seemed pleased with the work I did so she asked me to handle this as well. If you were still busy, that is.” Jeremy rolled his eyes. He didn’t take being second-best well. Never had.
I barely paid his bruised ego any mind. “She’s buying a house here?” My voice sounded weird. Even though I tried to sound normal, I knew I didn’t. How could I?
What the fuck was she playing at?
Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “I guess. She has her eye on the old Carmichael place on Willow Street. It’s been on the market forever, mostly because it’s out of most people’s price range. I mean, who has the disposable income to buy up an old mansion on a half-acre plot in a town with little to offer?” He watched me closely. “But it seems she saw it online and ‘fell in love.’” His lips quirked. “Is that a problem?”
Is that a problem?
Yes, it was a fucking problem.
But I was good at pretending things didn’t bother me when they did. I lifted a shoulder in a laissez-faire fashion. “Why should it be?”
Jeremy scrutinized my reaction. It felt like I was being examined under a microscope, which was a problem when your only real friends were attorneys. They were always looking for your dishonesty. “It’ll be nice to finally put a face with that sexy, smoky voice,” he went on and I felt the urge to vomit. In all the time Jeremy had been working with Tiffany he had yet to meet her. She was playing a game. Of course, she was. I expected nothing less.
“You better not let Lena hear you talking about some woman’s sexy voice,” I warned, knowing he was only trying to get a rise out of me. The truth was no woman could ever turn his head. He was slavishly devoted to his wife, the fourth partner in our law firm. He’d crawl over broken glass for her and their children. At one time he was a card-carrying manwhore, but those days were far behind him.
Jeremy smirked. “Lena was the one who commented on it first. Said Ms. Hardwell’s voice alone could get her pregnant.”
Of course, she did.
“Okay, well this deposition is in an hour—”
“Are you ever going to tell me how you know this woman?” Jeremy interjected before leaving.
I swallowed, my dry throat clicking. “There’s nothing to tell,” I lied. Oh, how I lied.
“Remember, I can bullshit with the best of ‘em.” He wiggled his fingers. “Toodles.” And then he was gone.
Sometimes talking to Jeremy was like going to war. You ended up battered and exhausted. I sat back in my chair, staring blankly at my computer screen, but not seeing it.
What the hell was Tiffany playing at? This wasn’t the first time over the years that she sought to insert herself into my life. I had learned that she liked to keep people on their toes, me included. She hadn’t taken the severing of our...relationship particularly well, but she was first and foremost a businesswoman. She served her interests. The thoughts and feelings of others didn’t enter into it. Especially mine.
In some twisted, dysfunctional way, I respected her tenacity. Her ability to make situations work out best for her. I had grown tired of her games a long time ago. But it seemed she wasn’t ready to concede defeat.
So here we were.
I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I knew by rote. It rang. And rang. And when her sensual, smokey voice filled my ear it was the automated tinniness of voicemail. I didn’t leave a message. I knew better. I hung up, not prepared to hold my breath as to when she’d call me back. She wouldn’t. She’d make herself known at her own time.
I tried not to be inundated with dread.
I did the only thing I knew how to do when confronted with emotional panic. I suppressed it. I tamped it so far down that it would take a backhoe to dig it up again. And I threw myself into my work.
Because when everything else in my world let me down, my work was all I had.
**
I had just turned the light off on my
