Her expression softens a bit, but she doesn’t say anything, just glances out at the restaurant as if lost in thought. I can’t help but wonder what’s going on behind those soft, scared eyes of hers and why she’s so bent on staying closed off.
“They asked about our marriage, I assume?”
She nods. “Yeah. I kept the details to a minimum, but I get the sense that their husbands will be blowing up your phone soon.”
“I already saw a few texts from them on the ride over here.”
“I hope it’s not too painful for you repeat our made-up story.”
“I hate lying to them, but it’s just for three months.”
She falls quiet, her smile polite but distant. She may be all confidence in the boardroom, but she doesn’t know how to handle a casual conversation.
I wonder when the last time was that she was in a real relationship—or hell, wait a minute. What if she’s currently dating someone who had to agree to all of this and that’s whyshe’s uncomfortable and politely trying to keep me at arm’s length?
The thought churns in my gut for a moment before I shove it aside, remembering her at the strip club ten nights ago, or what I think was her.
There's no way she'd be in a committed relationship and hanging out in New Jersey at a club alone.
“So... got any questions for me about my career?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I studied your stats. I know how you rose to fame and joined the Mayhem. I feel confident I’ve got the highlights covered if anyone asks.”?
“Just the highlights maybe, but what about the secret stuff that a wife would know about her husband that no one else does?”
She smiles faintly. “I learned in law school that it’s the things you don’t think will matter that end up causing you to lose a case. With that said, this is more about repairing your reputation and not about a surprise pop quiz.”
“I see. Well then how about we talk about you since I haven’t done my research on Rosie Prescott. How’d you end up a lawyer?”
She presses her lips together thoughtfully as our server drops off our drinks. I can see her deciding how much to tell me, weighing what she’s willing to reveal and what she wants to keep locked up in the mystery that is her.
She sips her wine then starts. “My mother left my father, brother and me when we were young. She left for another man she’d fallen in love with while acting and moved to Europe. We haven’t seen her since. She was a famous actress when we were kids. At the time, my father was already an accomplished criminal lawyer. When she left, he’d switched to entertainment law insome masochistic way of remembering her.” She says it all so simply as if she’s detached from the story that shaped her.
Damn, your mother leaving you as a child when you needed her most must not have been easy.
“He opened his own firm and took a wild gamble on himself. Social media was just starting to blow up back then. He chose up-and-coming artists from Myspace and rising D list actors and actresses. Eventually, it took off and the rest is history.”
“That was quite a gamble.”
She nods. “He was a single father who raised Cain and I strictly and with the knowledge that someday, we’d be taking over his business. There were rules for everything. No room to step out of line or experiment. Law school wasn’t optional. It was always expected.”
“Explains the way he spoke to both of you during our meeting.”
She lets out a tiny huff. “Oh, you hardly saw anything.”
“And what else did you do? Outside of never breaking any rules and always knowing you’d become a lawyer when you were older?”
She pauses to take a sip of her wine, then dabs her lips delicately with the white, silk napkin.
“I took ballet. I think Dad thought that the discipline would help me with school, and it did. I carried that discipline into my AP classes, graduated as valedictorian from a prestigious high school in New York, and went on to Harvard Law. Graduated at the top of my class. Stepped into a role at my father’s firm a few years ago. Now I’m a junior partner.”
She says it all so matter-of-factly, like it’s nothing but that’s a hell of a lot of accomplishments for someone so young. It alsotells me absolutely nothing about who she really is outside of degrees, titles and accolades.
“And do you enjoy it?” I ask, studying her closely.
Her lips curve faintly again. “It’s all I’ve ever known.”
That’s not an answer.
