But before I could weaponize any of it, Emilio had already done the job himself. Used facts and logic instead of threats. Made Green look incompetent in front of the people whose opinions shaped careers.
I was impressed. And aroused. Intelligence had always been more attractive to me than physical beauty, and watching Emilio deploy his brilliant mind in my defense was intoxicating.
The next day I spent preparing for the evening. Had my housekeeper stock the kitchen with ingredients for the meal I planned to cook. Selected wine from the cellar—a Barolo that would pair perfectly with the osso buco I intended to make. Changed the sheets on my bed even though they were already clean, because I fully intended to have Emilio in that bed again before the night was over.
At 6 PM I started cooking. I'd learned young that feeding people was a form of control. Providing for their basic needs created obligation, gratitude, dependence. My father had used business dinners to seal deals and cement loyalty. I was using the same principle on a more intimate scale.
Besides, I genuinely enjoyed cooking when I had the time. There was something meditative about the precision required. The way ingredients transformed under heat and pressure into something greater than their component parts.
Not unlike what I was doing with Emilio.
At 6:55, my security system alerted me that the front gate had opened. Thomas delivering his passenger exactly on time. I went to the door and opened it just as Emilio was raising his hand to knock.
He'd dressed casually—dark jeans, a sweater that emphasized his lean build, leather jacket that looked new. He'd put effort into his appearance, which meant he cared what I thought. Good.
"Punctual as always," I said, stepping back to let him in. "I appreciate consistency."
"You texted me yesterday that I was magnificent." Emilio's voice was dry. "I'm here to collect evidence of that claim."
I laughed and pulled him into a kiss before he'd fully crossed the threshold. He responded immediately, hands fisting in my shirt, letting me plunder his mouth like I had every right to do so.
When I finally released him, he was breathing hard and looking slightly dazed.
"That's a good start," he managed.
"That's just the greeting. Wait until you see what I've planned for the rest of the evening." I took his jacket and hung it in the closet. "Dinner first. Then we'll discuss business. Then I'mtaking you to bed and reminding you exactly why you made the right choice defending me."
"Very confident."
"Very certain." I led him to the kitchen where dinner was nearly ready. "Sit. Tell me about the aftermath of your dramatic exit."
He settled onto a barstool and accepted the wine I poured. "Richard called. I thought he'd be angry. He was impressed instead."
"Of course he was. You made Green look like an incompetent fool using only facts. That's the kind of performance senior partners notice." I stirred the risotto I'd started before he arrived. "What about your ex-husband? He was there, I assume."
"At our table. Looking shocked that I'd stood up for myself." Emilio sipped his wine. "How do you know these things? Who told you Marco was at the fundraiser?"
"I have sources everywhere, Emilio. We've established this." I plated the risotto—saffron, perfectly creamy—and set it in front of him. "First course. Tell me if it's acceptable."
He took a bite and his eyes widened. "This is incredible. Where did you learn to cook like this?"
"My father's housekeeper, as I mentioned. She thought I should have at least one normal skill." I prepared my own plate. "She was wrong, incidentally. Nothing about me is normal."
"I'm starting to realize that." He ate with obvious pleasure, which satisfied something primitive in me. "So what happens now? Green will retaliate. Richard warned me about that."
"Let him try. His supervisor already thinks he's incompetent. Any retaliation that looks petty will just confirm it." I finished my risotto and started plating the main course. "Besides, I have insurance against Green becoming a real problem."
"What kind of insurance?"
"The kind that involves knowing his mistress is his paralegal, that he's been billing personal expenses to the city, and that his conviction rate is even worse than you suggested when you factor in the cases he's buried to avoid trial losses." I set the osso buco in front of him. "But I won't need to use any of that unless he escalates beyond acceptable levels."
Emilio stared at me. "You investigated the prosecutor."
"I investigate everyone who touches my cases. Preparation is the difference between winning and losing." I sat across from him. "Eat. The marrow is the best part."
We ate in silence for a while. I watched him enjoy the food I'd prepared, watched him relax incrementally as the wine and the meal and the intimacy of the setting worked their magic.
"There's something we need to discuss," I said finally. "The DA's office made a plea offer."
