Page 110 of Resist

She waits a moment, looks down at her fingernails and then back up to me. “Because I believe my husband has already retained your services.”

And now she has my attention.

I exhale evenly and quietly admire the balls this woman already has.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” She rises from her seat and moves about my office. Her heels click as she trails a finger over a shelf of my bookcase on her way to the window. She stops with her back to me and stares out at the world below, her hourglass figure purposely on display.

This is a woman who knows how to play her audience.

“And what can I do for you, then?” I ask.

“Take me as your client instead.”

My head startles from her statement. A request to go easier on her was what I expected. An explanation of all the ways her husband has wronged her possibly another, but asking me to dump whoever her husband is and take her on instead is so far from what I thought.

When I don’t respond, she turns and pins me with her stare. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I’m told that often. I assure you your offer doesn’t impress me.” But your gumptions sure as fuck does.

“Oh, but it will impress you. I’m sure of it.” She turns her lips up in the most conniving of smiles, and her eyes glint like she’s a fucking witch about to exact her revenge.

“Who’s your husband?”

“We’ll get to that.”

“I think you’re mistaken. I’m the one who calls the shots here, not you. When I ask who your husband is, I want to know who he is so as to not jeopardize my relationship with my client.”

She makes her way slowly back across my office and returns to the seat across from me, eyes still locked on mine. “And what if I were to tell you, Mr. Lockhart, that by pulling your egotistical bullshit like this, you are jeopardizing your future relationship with me as your client. And you want me as a client.”

Jesus Christ. The woman is fearless.

I lean forward and fold my hands atop my desk. “I’m listening.”

She puts a hand in her purse and casually slides a fully executed check across the desk in front of me, her finger resting on its top left corner. I glance down and almost choke at the amount it’s made out for: $2,000,000. More than triple my typical retainer.

“Are you impressed now?” she asks as my eyes lift slowly up to hers as if I’m not.

“Is it your money or your husband’s money?”

“Does it matter so long as I’m a signer on the account?”

“To me it does.” Fucking women.

“No prenup. Married young and with nothing.” She lifts an eyebrow. “I’ll ask my question again: Are you for hire?”

“What’s the catch?” I ask. There’s always a catch when money comes this easy.

“No catch, just a stipulation.”

“Of course there is.” I shake my head. “No thanks.”

She smiles boldly. “I can’t believe a successful man like you is afraid to agree that whatever isn’t used of my retainer—whatever the reason may be—will be returned to me.”

I meet her stare. Do I really want to deal with another ball-busting female? I’m not seeming to fare too well with the one I’ve slept with . . . who says I can handle working for one too?

“It’s a simple yes or no answer, Mr. Lockhart,” she says casually as she removes her hand from the check and leans back in her chair, gaze never wavering from mine.