The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(34)

“See you at spring break?”

“I might go to Mexico with some friends.”

My brother had completed his internship at the end of his fall semester, so now, he only had to focus on his last semester of school and prepping for the bar.

While he was drinking mojitos in Cancun, I’d be in Declan hell.

God, I envied him.

I sighed. “You mean, you might come home and hang with your sister because she’s your fave.”

He smiled.

I didn’t have time to negotiate, but that didn’t mean I was dropping this topic.

“See you guys later,” I said.

As I headed out the door, I ordered a ride-share, and by the time I got outside, fortunately, the car was already parked along the curb. It was a short trip, and I walked into Declan’s office close to the twenty-minute mark.

“What took you so long?”

He was too focused on his computer to even look at me.

“How can I help you, Declan?”

He finally glanced up from his screen, his gaze starting at my feet, slowly rising to my hat. “I see you got dressed up for the occasion.” He laughed like he wasn’t impressed. “You could have at least worn clothes instead of pajamas.”

“It’s almost ten o’clock at night. I had a massive glass of wine. I was in the middle of something.” I paused. “I did the best I could.”

His eyes narrowed. “In the middle of what?”

Did he have the right to even ask that?

And did he deserve an answer?

“I was hanging out with my best friend and my brother. He’s only been here for a couple of days, and he’s spent more time with you than he has with me.”

I probably shouldn’t have said that.

But the wine was making my lips a little looser than normal.

“Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” His brows rose. “Welcome to the life of a lawyer, Hannah. This is what happens when you’re successful. Things come up at all hours, and you have to make yourself available.”

I cleared my throat, holding the doorway, wishing I hadn’t barked back at him. “What do you need me for?”

He pointed at one of the chairs. “Sit.”

I set the bag on my lap as I settled in the seat.

He placed his arms on the desk, his teeth piercing his bottom lip as he looked at me. “We have a problem.”

God, I wished he weren’t so good-looking.

His hair was a tad messy on the top, his tie loosened.

His scruff was even thicker than it had been this morning.

Those were the only problems I could see.

There was a folder in front of him that he pushed toward me. “Read.”

I lifted it into my hands and opened the top, scanning the first few lines. “What is this?”

“Evidence.”

There were only three sheets of paper in the stack, each showing several different email exchanges between Kennedy and the plaintiff. I scanned the contents of the emails. They didn’t exactly prove that Kennedy had known he was breaching his contract, but they certainly didn’t help his case.

“How did you find these?”

“You’re not asking the right question, Hannah.”

I thought for a moment. “Is this evidence they’re going to use against us?”

He took several breaths, and every exhale sent me his delicious, spicy scent. “Still the wrong question.”

This was going to throw a massive wrench in our defense.

It was going to change everything.

We needed to kill this evidence before the judge and jury saw it.

“How do we make this go away?”

“Again,” he snapped, “wrong question.”

I glanced back at the papers, taking my time to read each word, seeing if there was something I had missed. “We find a way around it?”

He got up and went over to the bar he’d had built in his office. A glass company had installed the shelves this afternoon, and his assistant had fully stocked both levels with glasses and multiple bottles of liquor. He poured what looked to be scotch into a tumbler and returned to his desk. “How?”

I closed my eyes, my brain flipping through the evidence and research that we’d put together for the upcoming trial. “We prove that Kennedy didn’t send those emails.”

“And how do we do that?”

I shrugged. “I … have no idea.”

“Well, you’d better figure it out, and you’re not leaving this building until you do.” He brought the glass up to his mouth. “It’s going to be a long night. Get to work.”





ELEVEN





DECLAN





Hannah had set up shop in the conference room, needing the large space to spread out all the files and evidence, a whiteboard to track her notes, and—unlike my office—an area that wasn’t filled with distractions.

Thank fucking God for that.

The last thing I needed was that perfect ass parading around my desk, bent over and taunting me.

Women thought they were doing themselves a favor by wearing yoga pants for comfort.

Really, they were doing men the favor, allowing us to see every curve and dip of their gorgeous bodies.