The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(62)

She bared her teeth. “Show me some respect, then. Stop being an asshole.”

“That’s who I am. You, us, work—nothing will change that.”

She crossed her arms over her stomach. “When I heard you in Dominick’s office, pleading with him, Ford, and Jenner to assign me to a different mentor, I should have pushed them for it. There are more important things than learning from the best.”

She had overheard me in their office, fucking begging to get rid of her. I’d asked her how long she’d been standing outside the door, and she had made me believe she hadn’t eavesdropped.

She’d lied.

What she didn’t know was why I had asked them to reassign her, how the guilt of fucking her that night at the bar was too much for me to stomach.

And, goddamn it, I still wasn’t ready to tell her the truth.

We were both lying.

But instead of admitting that, I said, “What would be more important?”

She was quiet for a moment. “Protecting my heart.”





We sat around the large dining table in Jenner’s suite. Each of us, including Walter, had a folder in front of us that my team had put together. A heavy stack of paperwork, which included blueprints and land surveys and permits along with aerial photographs of the land in question.

Walter had remained silent as I went through the presentation, flipping through the tabs of notes my team had left me, covering each of the major points.

I had just reached the end when he asked, “What do you think? Have I wasted far too many millions on a piece of land where a hotel will never come to fruition, or should I fly out the architect while I’m here?”

“I think—” Hannah cut herself off as she looked at me and then added, “May I, Declan?”

If any other intern were sitting at this table, this scenario wouldn’t play out. A client didn’t give a fuck what an intern thought—someone with no law degree, no authority to practice, and more importantly, no experience to back up their opinion.

Any other intern would have sat there silently.

But Hannah was using her personal connection to Walter to her advantage, and Jenner’s expression told me he was all for it.

As soon as she received my nod, she continued, “From what I’ve seen during my research, the land in question is yours. The previous owner had nothing more than a gentleman’s agreement with the neighboring owner”—she held up a piece of evidence that was included in the folder, confirming this—“and the agreement isn’t registered with the county or the state. It wasn’t even notarized. When the sale of your property went through, this piece of land—from what I can tell—was included. Now, the neighboring owner is saying he paid the taxes and can prove that with receipts, but that doesn’t define ownership. In addition, I’ve reviewed the entire contract you signed when you purchased the land, and the piece in question was included in the survey; therefore, it’s part of the sale. That tells me that the seller either forgot about the gentleman’s agreement or didn’t care enough to resolve it prior to closing. Either way, a verbal agreement—or in this case, a poorly executed written one with two illegible signatures—doesn’t define ownership.” She glanced at me and then back at Walter. “In my opinion, again, without a proper piece of documentation, the land is legally yours, and you can do with it whatever you see fit.”

She was right.

And, fuck, I was impressed.

Walter processed her conclusion, allowing several seconds to pass before he said, “Is there a chance the neighboring owner will surprise us with more documents when we go to court? Can he provide more evidence, proof, whatever that he hasn’t already shown?”

Hannah looked at me, waiting for approval. When I gave it to her, she replied, “Sure, that’s always a possibility. But my gut tells me that if the neighboring owner had more documentation, he would have provided it. No one wants to go to court and incur the expense of hiring an attorney unless they absolutely have to.”

“She’s right,” I confirmed. “In addition, my team has scoured through all the available evidence, digging through fifty years’ worth of land ownership, deeds, and county records. I can’t imagine the neighboring owner has resources that are better than ours.”

Walter exhaled loudly. “You know how these small towns work. It’s all whom you know, who can do you favors, who has more cattle, who has a bigger horse—you get my drift.”

“Walter, Declan is going to do everything in his power to win this case.” She leaned her chest against the table. “Please don’t worry.”

She was confident without being overbearing. Patient and charming.

On top of it all, she’d done her research, and she knew what she was talking about.

“The only thing I can add to what Hannah said is that the neighboring owner might want a credit for any money or taxes that he’s invested into the property since you’ve taken ownership. But we’re talking thousands of dollars versus the millions he’s suing you for.”

“I can live with that,” he said to me. He then crossed his hands over the top of the folder, his eyes softening as he looked at Hannah. “I remember the last time I was at Jenner’s for dinner. We were all sitting around the dining room table, and you were telling us about law school and your hope to intern at The Dalton Group. Never then did I think we would be here, working together. Or, if the opportunity did arise, that you would be this impressive.” He reached across the table and rested his hand on hers. “I should have never doubted you. You remind me so much of my daughter, and like her, you’re going to have a bright future ahead of you, young lady. I can see it, I can feel it, and quite honestly, I’m blown away.”