Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“There you go being polite again,” I accuse.
“I guess my mother raised me right after all,” he says, stroking a wayward strand of hair from my forehead, and not only do I barely contain a shiver, I barely contain my desire to ask a question about his mother, which he doesn’t give me time to ask anyway. “Come,” he says—or, rather, orders, which I’ve decided is as natural to him as that need for control we just talked about, and I don’t mind. It’s actually sexy when done at the right time and place by a man who knows that time and place, which is preferably while naked. And we’re both already mentally undressed.
In a few steps and moments, I’m sliding inside his BMW, its soft cream-colored leather encasing me while that earthy scent of the man himself surrounds me. “I’ll be right back,” Nick says, shutting the door, and I inhale that alluring scent of him again and pull my seat belt into place, the sound of soft music stirring curiosity in me. Turning up the volume, I find it’s classical music that I know well. Somehow, it fits Nick.
The driver’s door opens, and he joins me, and I swear the man has this energy that consumes the very air around him. And me. He consumes me. Suddenly, the car is smaller, more intimate, and I am warmer, my heart beating faster. “That was fast,” I say.
“A guard just showed up and made that easy on me,” he explains. “He’s letting Katie know the situation.” He reaches for the gear shift but pauses, seeming to listen or think before casting me a sideways look. “You found my music, I hear.”
“I did,” I say. “‘Symphony No. 5’. I know it well. It suits you.”
“Don’t let that fool you,” he says, starting the engine and backing out of the parking spot before placing us in gear. “I’d just as easily have Kid Rock or Keith Urban on the radio. It depends on my mood and where my head is at the time.”
“And tonight it was classical. Why?” I ask, casting him a curious look.
“It’s a work state of mind,” he says. “When I’m prepping for court, opening and closing statements in particular, words distract me, but music helps me set the tone in my mind.”
“Are you working on opening or closing statements now?”
“Actually, in this case,” he says, driving us through the narrow path connecting the gallery to the winery, “it’s deposition prep for next week. If you do them right—and I do—you convince the enemy that you’re going to win in court, and they make a deal out of court.”
“There is that word again,” I say, my gaze scanning the Wickermans’ castle as we turn toward the exit.
“What word?” Nick asks, pulling us onto the highway.
“Enemy,” I say. “I don’t like it, but I guess for you, that’s not a word but a rule of life. You always have a new enemy, right?”
“In most cases,” he says, “I have opponents.”
“You said enemy.”
“In this case, enemy applies. I used to work with the opposing counsel back in L.A. We cochaired an insider trader case for one of the biggest clients in the firm.”
“And what happened to make him an enemy?”
“I like to win,” he says, “but I do it the right way. With my brains. He likes to win as well. By playing dirty.”
“And you never play dirty? They do say you’ll rip someone’s throat out if they cross you.”
“If someone hires me to do a job, my job is to win. Not to feel sorry for the person coming after my client, or even the person aligned with the person coming after my client. My client needs to know that if he or she is with me, he or she is protected.”
“And what if the witness is pulled into the case without wanting to be pulled into the case?” I ask. “Are you still that coldhearted to that witness?”
“Yes,” he says with zero hesitation, even doubling down. “Absolutely. Because I didn’t pull that person into the case. The person attacking my client did, and my client has the right to protect themselves. And believe me, if you were the one needing that protection, you’d be glad I was the one on your side.”
“That sounds vicious.”
“It is vicious, and I’m unapologetic about it. But there’s a difference between being a coldhearted asshole and breaking the law. And the man I call an enemy broke laws to obtain evidence, which could have gotten us both disbarred.”
“What did you do?”
“I was forced to throw out what would have been good evidence if obtained legally and find another way to win.”
“And the enemy of yours, he agreed to throw it out?”
“No. I threatened to go to the board at the firm, and he read my willingness to do it accurately.”