Where a strong, tall, handsome man used to be is little more than a frail, stick-thin creature that's been painted all over with art.
The room spins as my eyes land on a neck that can't possibly be mine.
"Is that a fucking bat?"
Before I can get the answer to that question, the spinning room fills with black spots, and the last thing I see before going under again is the crisp white ceiling as it falls away from me.
Chapter 2
Nobody Likes Lawyers
BRIGIT
"What do you mean the buyer wants them to pay their closing costs?" I scoff. "Now? That's something they should have negotiatedweeksago. Not two days before closing."
"I know," Antoine sinks into the chair across from me. He shrugs, smoothing his hair down against his scalp in a soothing, nervous gesture I've become attuned to over the last three years we've worked together. "Their lawyer seemed even more pissed than my clients are going to be. She told me that she mentioned the possibility of seller concessions six times over the last several months as they've been making offers and they only now have decided theydeserveit because one of their uppity friends said she wouldn't let a seller take advantage of her that way."
"So what are you going to do?" I ask, scrolling through the already prepared contract for the sixth time.
He sighs, "What can I do at this point?"
I look back at my friend, noting the vein pulsing in his forehead atthe prospect of this deal falling through. His dark brown eyes shift around the office, looking for anything to put his attention on besides his worry.
"Well, there's no chance your clients will agree to pay that money now. Nor should they. Tell their agent that they're welcome to pull out of the sale and we'll have the breach of contract filed and served by E.O.D."
Narrowing his eyes, he looks at me suspiciously, "You knew this would happen."
"Of course, I didn't," I sigh, folding one leg over the other and switching from one document to the next. "But I like to be prepared for anything. It's not the first, or the last, time someone got a little greedy. Don't call your clients. Not yet. Let's not pop their bubble if we don't have to. The terms are already laid out, if the buyer pulls out now, they forfeit a lot more money than the closing costs. Just make sure their agent knows that."
He nods, placing his hands on his knees to stand, "I'll call them."
"Okay. Do you want me to sit in on the call? Just in case?" It also wouldn't be the first time an agent threatened to sue, and that's an immediate conversation ender. As soon as the wordssue, legal, litigation,orlawyerare uttered, I become the only person they're allowed to speak to.
Deep down, I like that finality. I enjoy knowing that at the end of the day, if things go terribly wrong, I'm the solution. And often, the problem.
Nobody likes lawyers.
Nobody wants to deal with them anymore than they have to.
Especially in an industry like mine.
Real Estate law is exceptionally boring. It's the same contracts with minor changes over and over again. It's a lot of reading and rereading and rerereading, searching for blind spots in contracts that I didn't write myself.
On the infrequent occasion that I need to step in for something major, it's handled quickly and efficiently. Then I can go backto being the invisible threat sitting in a wall-to-wall windowed office on the 34th floor, looking over the entire city from my perch.
"Nah," Antoine grins, walking backward out my doorway. "I don't need you flexing your lawyer muscles and scaring off my paycheck."
As he vanishes around the corner, my assistant, Kelly, pops her head up over her desk, bright blue gaze not so subtly watching as all six feet and six inches of Antoine struts down the open hallway to his own office on the other end.
I can't blame her, really.
I'm sure his great big puppy-dog eyes and sweet face, coupled with all the muscle and stunning, deep brown skin, catch far more attention than such a kindhearted guy like him can handle.
Kelly is nice enough, but I have a sneaking suspicion she would eat him alive, and he wouldn't have a single clue what to do with himself.
She slides out of her chair, heels clicking against the floor as she enters my office, her eyes still locked on the hall as she toys with her wildly curly blonde lengths, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him.
When her attention finally falls on me, her lips lift on one side, "Do you need me to tell you what else you have going on today?"
