Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 52699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
He carried me to the emergency lane, and I coughed until my lungs were clear.
As the smoke cleared, I analyzed the damage.
My front bumper and grill were bent, but the sports car was now a crumpled can. Its trunk was wrinkled like a sweater, and its rear window lay in shards on the asphalt.
“Are you color blind?” the deep voice said from behind, making me turn around.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
I sucked in a breath as I took in his beautiful face. Even though his jaw was clenched, and his blue eyes were filled with rage, this man was sexy as fuck.
“Are you color-blind?” he repeated.
“Excuse me?”
“Are you —” He spoke a bit slower, looking as if he were seconds away from losing it. “Color-blind?”
“No.”
“Legally insane?”
“No.”
“What about physically ill?”
I shook my head.
“Thank you for making that clear,” he said. “Now, I can sue you without mercy for wrecking my favorite car.”
“Sue?” I crossed my arms. “Why can’t you wait for me to call my insurance company like a normal person?”
“Because you’re using a wire hanger to keep your muffler attached,” he said. “I highly doubt you have insurance. Do you?”
No. “Yes.” I kept my voice firm. “And as a lawyer, I don’t appreciate you making assumptions or threatening me with a lawsuit you’d definitely lose.”
“You’re a lawyer?”
“A very established one.”
He looked me over as if he didn’t believe me.
“I’d prefer if we handle this without getting any third parties involved,” I said, remembering my interview. “Let me pay you for the damages outright.”
“Okay, Miss Lawyer.” He snapped a picture of his car before making a call.
I eyed him as he spoke to someone. His suit, watch, and Italian leather shoes were probably more than I’d make in the next five years combined, and for some reason, he looked vaguely familiar.
Where have I seen this man before?
His stern gaze pinned me to the spot, and the adrenaline running through my veins dared me to step closer. He eyed my dress, and I could tell he was feeling the same way.
“Okay, thank you.” He ended the call. “They’re willing to give me the final estimate when I take it in, but based on visuals alone, it’ll be at least seventy-eight thousand.”
“Dollars?”
“No, donuts.” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, seventy-eight thousand dollars.”
“If that’s the case, you should just buy a new car.”
“Excuse me?”
“Even if I had that type of money—and I don’t—that’s a bit much for repairs.” I looked over at his car. “I mean, money is clearly not an object for you, but for me—”
“Stop talking,” he interrupted. “I’ll call the police for an accident report, and you’ll call your insurance company.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Now.”
I took out my phone as if that scenario was possible.
“I have a better idea.” I held out my wallet. “You can have my wallet.”
“Is there seventy-eight thousand dollars in it?”
“No.”
“Then you can keep it.” He glared at me. “Call your insurance company.”
“I don’t have my phone on me.”
“It’s right there in your hand.” He looked at it. “Make the call.”
“Um…” I stepped back, and he stepped forward.
“Miss Lawyer…” He gritted his teeth. “Make. The. Call.”
“Okay, yeah. Yeah, I'll do that.”
“What company are you with?”
“It’s called—” I tossed my wallet at him and ran to my car mid-sentence, leaving him without an answer. Popping my trunk, I grabbed my briefcase and umbrella, and then I rushed down the exit ramp as fast as I could.
When I was sure no one was following me, I stopped at the next light and hailed a cab.
I wasn’t missing this interview for the world.
TAINTED EVIDENCE (N.)
IN A CRIMINAL TRIAL, INFORMATION WHICH HAS BEEN OBTAINED BY ILLEGAL MEANS OR HAS BEEN TRACED THROUGH EVIDENCE ACQUIRED BY ILLEGAL SEARCH AND/OR SEIZURE
DAMIEN
That woman better be going to an ATM.
I stood on the bridge as rain pelted my suit. I was staring in the direction where the psychotic, sexy driver ran off, expecting her to come back and handle this situation properly.
This was the first wreck I’d ever experienced in my life, and I refused to believe it would end unresolved.
This isn’t how I like to operate.
After waiting ten minutes for her return, I walked to my car and reached through my shattered rear window for my briefcase.
Curious, I approached Miss Lawyer’s car and looked through the passenger side window.
A few post-it notes clung to her glovebox, marred with little reminders. The steering wheel was sheathed in leopard print fabric, and red and black wires hung from the gear shift.
There’s no way in hell this woman has insurance.
While sirens sounded in the distance, I opened the wallet she left behind.
Tucked into the credit card folds were business cards from other law firms. Where the money should’ve been were more business cards from law firms, as if she were collecting them like infinity stones. There was also an expired MetroCard, a gift card to a West End deli, and two glow-in-the-dark condoms.