“Count me in. I need a drink like you wouldn’t believe.”
I lean back in the chair with an exaggerated exhale.
“Why, what’s happened?” She’s picked up on the edge in my voice and is about to turn into a bloodhound on a mission. I’m not about to tell her I’m seated in the hotel guy’s office. She’ll have a bloody field day and I’ll never get her off the phone.
“I’ll tell you about it later. Trust me, now isn’t the time.”
“Okay. Gimme a sec.” Anna’s voice turns muffled as she pulls the phone away and orders her lunch, and I let my gaze drift over David’s desk while I wait. It’s bare apart from a laptop, a planner and a pen. In fact, his whole office is bare, yet exquisite. Looking around properly now, I can tell that this is an office made for sin. I’m under absolutely no pretences that David is a good guy. He’s a divorce lawyer, for Christ’s sake. Aren’t they notoriously nefarious in their ploys to win cases? Especially the wealthy ones, which David so very clearly is. Don’t get me wrong, his office is beautifully modern and luxurious with its dark furniture, clean lines and glass accents, but lacking any personal effects that show any sign of personality. No photos, no books, not even a coffee mug. The only thing I can see that’s not functional is a large, beautifully painted canvas that hangs on his wall to the left. It’s a swirl of dark abstract colours, flecked with gold that sort of looks like a wild, beautiful storm. I can’t help but scoff to myself. His office is exactly like him. Beautiful, yet cold.
“Can I borrow your gold mini dress?” I ask Anna when she returns, pulling my gaze toward the window. I knowshe’ll say yes because I’ve already worked my way through half her wardrobe. I never had reason to own clothes that are nightclub appropriate, and I certainly don’t have the money to buy any now. The only events I attended while married were galas and balls that I had to attend with Daniel, and something tells me a floor-length gown wouldn’t be appropriate for a club opening, not that I would risk going back to our marital house to get one. Lucky I already had a collection of shoes and bags at the apartment when I moved in.
“Of course, it will look bloody gorgeous on you! I’ll come over early and we can get ready together.”
Despite the situation I currently find myself in, excitement flitters across my skin.
“Sounds good! I’m babysitting Leo on Saturday afternoon but I’ll be home from about six onwards. What’s the name of the club?”
“Ubriaca.”
“Ubriaca,” I muse. “That’sdrunkin Italian.”
“Is it?” Anna cackles. “Well, I plan to get veryUbriacaSaturday night! Gotta go G, talk laters.”
We hang up and I slip my phone back into my pocket. Someone clears their throat right behind me, causing me to startle.
“Hope I’m not interrupting,” David drawls sarcastically as he moves past me and takes a seat behind his desk. I didn’t even hear him come back in. “Where were we?”
He leans back against his chair like some kind of dark prince, the view of Melbourne city sprawled behind him through the cascading glass wall. I sit up a little straighter in my seat. I might feel wildly under-dressed and under-whelming sitting in front of him now, but I refuse to let him know that.
“We were interrupted just as you were trying to insult me,” I say, drumming my fingers on my knee. “Again.”
“Insult you?” He cocks a brow. “I was just being factual. It is your job to sleep with men, is it not? If there’s an insult there, it isn’t from me.”
I scoff. “Okay, look, this is not a good idea.”
“What isn’t?”
I pull my ponytail over my shoulder and twirl the ends through my fingers, while David observes my movements with laser-like intensity. The back of my neck prickles.
“You. Being my lawyer. It’s a bit awkward, and probably unethical. Isn’t there some kind of law against conflict of interest?” I say, gesturing at the space between us. “I would say there’s a conflict of interest here.”
“That’s not exactly how it works,” David says slowly as his eyes drag back to mine. “Surprisingly, most of what happens in Law and Order SVU doesn’t reflect the reality of the court room.” He clears his throat. “Besides, I would call that night more a conflict ofdisinterest.”
Ouch. Why are the most beautiful ones always the biggest assholes?
“Well, I’m not the one who paidyouto be in the hotel room that night, so I would say maybe there was maybe thetiniestbit of interest there, wouldn’t you?” I say overly sweetly, batting my eyelashes at him and refusing to let him know he hurt my feelings. I like the way it feels to stand up to him. It doesn’t come with fear like it always does with Daniel. Instead, it gives me a rush. Makes me feel like his equal, when I have every other reason to feel beneath him.
David’s nostrils flare. He clearly isn’t used to anyone talking back to him. Satisfaction curls in my gut.
“Turns out,” he says with a sneer, “I didn’t actually pay anything.”
He glares at me across his desk, but I’m not about to get into my reasons for returning his money. Imagine if I told this commitment-phobe that I’m not really a hooker and he’s the first man I’ve slept with since leaving my husband. He’d probably have a heart attack thinking I’m ready to send out save-the-date’s for our wedding. The thought does make my lip curl in a small smile, though.
“It didn’t feel right to take your money after I skipped out early,” I lie lamely, faking nonchalance as if it’s no big deal. The excuse would make sense to him as a lawyer; we had an agreement that I didn’t wholly fulfill when I bailed. My reasoning is none of his damn business anyway.
He continues to stare at my face, as if the truth he’s seeking will just appear there, and I sit and will myself not to be the first to look away. When the seconds stretch into a long, drawn-out moment that borders the edge of awkwardness, he scoffs, offers me a sardonic smile and reaches for his laptop.
“Your marriage,” he says, moving on so abruptly it startles me. “Let me guess. High school sweet hearts?” He almost spits the words, like the thought of anyone being in love is physically repulsive to him. Man, this guy really has some issues. However, the sudden change in topic catches me off guard and I answer automatically.
