“Condition one: You and Jett will live in my penthouse, and you will not leave La Lune Noire property without me.”
“You’re joking,” she scoffs, her cheeks pink with indignation. “You’re offering me a job, but only if I live with you and agree to be glued to your hip? What the hell, Ryker? Jax must have given you some good shit before you came here. You’re as high as a bird.”
“Kite.”
“What?”
“It’s high as a kite.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” she insists, and she is dead-serious pissed about a goddamn saying. “Birds fly higher than kites. So, ishigh as a kiteonly moderately high?”
I rub my hand over my jaw, trying to conceal my amusement. “It’s not a comparison. Kite stands on its own. You’re the one bringing the fucking bird into it.”
“And I will continue to side with the damn bird because you’re as high as a Rüppell’s griffon vulture.” She huffs, correctly gauging my confusion. “That’s the bird that holds the record for flying the highest.”
Messes up idioms but can geek out on the most ludicrous knowledge.Precious.
“Why do you know that?”
Her brow line furrows with a challenge. “Is that really what we should be discussing? Or do you have a drug habit you came here to talk about?”
“The only thing in my system is a French 75 and the shot of adrenaline from watching you come unglued on the first condition. It’s weak, Counselor.”
“So is your negotiation,” she contends. “Why wouldn’t I return to New Orleans, resume my intact bar status, and work for someone of my choosing? The salary might not be as good, but the freedom would be worth it.”
Fuck, I love the snark she’s throwing at me. This is Mercy Phillips. A fighter. A go-getter. A move-over-because-I’m-climbing-to-the-top badass.
She changed with Dalton. It was gradual, but blatant nonetheless. She got quieter, argued less. Who has ever heard of a lawyer who doesn’t argue? She isolated herself more and more. Stopped working when Jett was born, which would have been fine, but I knew that hadn’t been her choice. And after Dalton beat her to a pulp and she finally woke up, it was like she wasn’t there. I saved her body, but not her spirit.
So, I’mnotwilling to be her friend for various reasons.
One being that angering her seems to fuel her feisty side. And I’ve missed her spark. Craved it.
And two is due to that hug we shared. Having her in my arms after all this time was revitalizing. There was something there, something between us that was different, more, new. The little whimper she released said it all. I wanted to tell her that I needed her, that she was everything, that life without her had been unbearable. But there’s still a skittish part of her in there, like she’s looking for the chance to bolt. The last thing I want to do is scare her away.
No bulldozing.
But I also will not be put back in the friend zone. So, boundaries are imperative.
As is goading her.
“Working for someone else is not an option. I kept your bar status active by putting you on the books as a La Lune Noire attorney six weeks after you gave birth to Jett. If you don’t continue working for us, it all goes away.”
“Wow, okay.” She holds up a disbelieving hand to me, getting her bearings. “I’d love to know what inspired you to do that back then, but I think the present picture is more disturbing. Not only are wenotfriends, but you came here to manipulate me?”
“No manipulation. I came here for you, Mercy. We both want something, and I’m making it happen. But friends? No. Friends don’t disappear and refuse to communicate ever again. So, let’s call it like it is. But no matter what we are, I will always show up for you. Always. That’s what this is.”
Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on her. She’s been through so much. But I’m not a good actor when it comes to heightened emotions. I can’t pretend she didn’t wreck me.
Her features soften, shouting that she is somewhat aware of the decimation she inflicted. “You always did. And I’m sure you believe that’s what this is with your own twisted logic. But … this isn’t even legal.”
“It might not be legal”—I shrug, compounding the agitation this will cause—“but you’ll be hard-pressed to dispute it without losing everything. So …”
“Spoken like a true Noire. Daddy would be so proud.”
There she is.
The more she goes for the jugular, the more confident I feel this is going to work, that she’s coming home with me, that we’ll finally have our fresh start. I just have to keep pushing her buttons.
