Ruthless Rival (Cruel Castaways #1)(44)

“What’s the problem, then? The chemistry is there.” Her tone was businesslike, almost terse.

“Yes.” I flashed my teeth, cool and collected. “But the willingness to fuck up my case isn’t. If I touch you, I lose, and you and I both know it. Now wrap a towel around yourself and park your ass all the way across the bench. We need to talk.”

She retreated, stepping back and picking up her towel. She wrapped it around herself and walked toward the farthest end of the wraparound bench, sitting in front of me, calm and collected, like she hadn’t been rejected minutes ago.

“You should clean your hands of him.” I ran a hand over my hair, which was slick with sweat.

“No,” she said simply.

“He is guilty.”

“You would say that; you are Amanda Gispen’s lawyer.”

“I’m saying that because I have eyes and ears. I looked through your side’s discovery responses. This will cause a lot of destruction to your father. Just because shit is about to hit the fan doesn’t mean you have to get dirty.”

“Christian,” Arya said, almost chidingly. Another memory from our thirteen-year-old selves. She’d always been bossy. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you advice.”

“Are you going to charge me five hundred bucks at the end of this hour?”

“You mean two grand. And the answer is no. This advice I am giving you for free, though you should consider it priceless. Your father’s attorneys—are they a part of his in-house litigation team?”

I had no idea what I was doing or why the hell I was doing it. I just knew I had to throw her a bone. I wanted to win, but not by default. Conrad Roth’s case looked weak right now. A walk in the park.

“No.” Arya shook her head. “They’re outside counsel. He’s worked with them before. They come highly recommended by his team.”

“His team ain’t worth a dime, and his general counsel should be fired. Any rookie would tell you that when dealing with any gender-related lawsuit, the jurors would respond more sympathetically to a female litigator. Especially someone young.”

“Like Claire,” Arya pointed out.

“Like Claire. But that’s beside the point.”

“Are you saying he needs to hire a female lawyer?” Her green eyes sparked with curiosity, and there it was, the Arya I knew and was obsessed with. Apparently she was still there, under the thick layers of designer clothes and ballbusting moves and bullshit.

“Correct.”

“That’s sexist.”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Her eyes tapered. “No part of you wants my father to win this case.”

Smiling at her like she was a foolish child, I deliberately mansplained. “I’ll be buttoning up this puppy if you bring in Jesus Christ himself to represent your father. It’d be nice to break a little sweat while I do. I’m giving you a head start.”

Arya’s eyes glided over my chest. I was glad I couldn’t do the same to her, now that she’d wrapped herself back up. My IQ had dropped by sixty-nine points when she was naked.

“You look pretty sweaty to me,” she remarked.

“In court.”

She extended her bronze legs, wiggling her toes. I couldn’t help it. I sneaked a look. First at her shapely calves, then at those toes she used to entwine with mine when we were kids, reading under the desk at her library.

“So tell me, Christian, how do I know you?”

We were on a first-name basis now. That wasn’t good. Still, it felt weird to refer to Arya as Ms. Roth.

I flexed my muscles. “You seem like a smart cookie. Figure it out.”

You’re playing with fire, I could hear Arsène warning in my head.

That may be, I answered. How could I not, when the flame is so beautiful?



The next day, I called Claire into my office.

“Miss Lesavoy, please take a seat.”

Claire always looked good, but she seemed to be putting in extra effort in recent days. Perhaps to remind me she had more to offer than her sharp mind.

She sat in front of me, smiling breezily. “Hey, stranger. Tried to call you last night. Your voice mail has been working extra hours.”

I’d been busy jerking off to mental pictures of Arya. But I supposed she could do without this piece of information.

“Sorry.” I smoothed my tie over my dress shirt. “I was busy. Listen, Claire, I’m going to cut straight to the chase. You are gorgeous, intelligent, smart as a whip, and completely out of my league. I’m a washed-out, jaded asshole who cannot say no when a good thing lands in his lap, and in doing so I’m slowing you down. So this is me doing you a favor and calling things off before you begin to resent me and working together becomes tasking.”

I thought it was a nice little speech. Especially considering none of these things were lies. She was too good to me. I was jaded. And things were becoming more complicated, especially now that we were handling the Roth case.

Claire scowled, not bothering to appear unwounded. I knew I should adore that about her, but I couldn’t help but miss Arya’s mind games. Her arrogant pride. Her obstinacy.

“Don’t you think it’s on me to decide whether you’re good enough or not?” Claire asked.