8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
R oman
Ivan could be a fucking prick sometimes, and Luna admitted he’d said something to set her off on Friday, but she wouldn’t tell me what. I just hoped he hadn’t scared her away for good.
The partners came over to the house on Sunday evening to grill, watch some football, and discuss a new business we were considering buying. Now, we sat in my oversized spa, sipping bourbon, enjoying the mild evening, and gazing out at the Las Vegas skyline. Xander was in the pool, swimming laps. He spent a lot of time moving and playing sports to try and keep his demons at bay. Dusk fell early now, and the blinking neon casinos and hotels glittered in the distance.
“What did you say to her?” I asked Ivan quietly.
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “The truth.”
“Which was?”
He shrugged and sipped his whiskey. “That she’s smart as fuck, has a mostly boring background, but at twelve she accused her father of taking bribes, which you’re well aware of, and she got… disowned for it.”
“Why’d you throw that at her?”
Ivan set his drink down. “You’re lucky I didn’t tell her everything. I think your plan is shit, and I’m starting to like her–she’s got spunk. Have you even read my report?”
“I read enough. And I don’t feel lucky, I feel like breaking your fucking nose.” I pointed at him. “Don’t interfere again.”
Drakos leaned back and spread his arms against the spa ledge. “You’re barely pretending to keep it professional with her. Don’t get me wrong, it’s entertaining to see you two square off at each other like cats in heat. But I’m going to throw this out there. Things could get messy, and she’s not her father.”
Xander pulled himself up out of the pool and sat. “It’s already messy. Be careful with her, she’s better than any of us.”
Truer words were never spoken, but I still didn’t give a fuck. Klim had sent her to me, and she was mine.
Ivan leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “I feel like kicking the shit out of you. How about a sparring match at the gym tomorrow morning? Unless you aren’t up for it.” I knew he was trying to goad me.
“You deserve a good beating for interfering.”
He grinned. “You’re a mean, cold fucker but I do get a good workout with you. Fine. How about seven?”
Ivan and I met at the No Name Boxing Gym a few blocks from our office the next morning before work. We represented No Name’s owner, Ryder Colton, but he ran a tight ship and we never had to come here for more than a good workout or a sparring match.
We’d both been trained by Gideon. Ivan had a few pounds of muscle on me and I was a hair faster. After a few rounds of intense sparring with a few good hits, we’d both worked through our aggression. Ryder stood on the sidelines, his arms crossed, watching us.
“Only a little blood and a dislocated shoulder. It’s been worse,” Ryder muttered as he snapped Ivan’s shoulder back into place.
I showered and cleaned up in the gym, then headed to the office. My phone buzzed early that afternoon, and when I looked down and saw who was texting me, my mouth curled into a cruel smile.
Luna: I want to negotiate my schedule
I decided to let her stew for a while and I waited until after work to get back with her. When I got home, I changed my clothes, grabbed some food, then walked out to the back patio before responding.
Roman: Send me your class times and I’ll give you your schedule
Luna: That’s not negotiating. That’s dictating, and we live in a democracy
I grinned down at my phone as I responded.
Roman: If you want to negotiate, we do it face to face. And who said your internship is a democracy?
Luna
On Monday morning before my first class, I’d gone to plead my case with Klim.
He peered at me from over the rim of his glasses. “Ms. Cross, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Roman Fowler,” I ground out, the name tasting like sour milk on my tongue.
Klim leaned back in his chair and considered me. “I had lunch with him on Sunday.”
“Are you two friends ?”
Klim closed one eye. “In a manner of speaking.”
If Klim and Roman were friends, I was screwed.
I started pacing. “We have the most unorthodox mentor-intern relationship in history. He can barely tolerate me, yet he wants to pick me up every morning.” Whatever was going on between Roman and me seemed personal somehow.
Klim watched me pace. “Do you have a credible complaint? Has he acted inappropriately?”
Damn it, he was calling me out. “He’s overbearing and condescending, and sometimes he looks at me like he wants to peel the skin off my bones. Then he demands I shadow him wherever he goes. It’s too much.”
Klim stared, giving me no sympathy. “I know you can both negotiate and work out a mutually beneficial schedule. There’s a reason I paired you two, he’s got a few things to learn from you.”
I threw up my hands. “Klim, why is that my job? And I don’t even know what that means!” Frustration boiled, and I wanted to reach over his desk and yank on his stupid bowtie. I didn’t care what Roman could learn from me, and I was in no mood. I needed to get through law school, find a job, and start tackling my student loans.
Klim raised his eyebrow. “Do what good lawyers do. Compromise, find common ground, and be flexible.”
“It’s hard to be flexible when I just want to punch him in the throat.”
Klim took off his glasses and gazed at me carefully. “I’ll end this mentorship and reinstate your original choice if you give me a valid reason to do so. Frankly, I think you working with Arthur Thorgeson is a waste of your time and potential. He’s well over seventy and he works maybe three full days a week. But if you can show me that interning at Roman’s firm somehow harms you, or he’s done something to offend you, I’ll make the change.”
I groaned and sank into the chair in front of his desk. “You know I don’t have anything like that. He’s the quintessential attorney who knows how to skate the line but not step across it.”
Klim put his glasses back on. “Then negotiate with him. You may even find you don’t loathe him.”
“I never said I loathed him.”
He gave me a small, pleased grin. “Good. You may not want to admit it, but you two are well-paired.”
“How do you know him?”
“I know his family.” He studied me and leaned forward. “Let me tell you something about Roman that he would hate for you to know. He’s a brilliant strategist, and he did very well in school. His father wanted to send him to an expensive, exclusive boarding school as a teenager, but Roman wanted to attend his regular high school and play lacrosse with his friends, so he dug in. His father then wanted to send him off to England, and things escalated. When his father took Roman’s dog and had her put down, Roman went a little crazy. His mother didn’t intervene.”
“Was the dog sick?”
Klim shuffled some papers on his desk. “No. She was a sweet, beautiful, perfectly healthy four-year-old chocolate lab who adored Roman.”
“Oh, God.” I felt sick to my stomach.
“And then his father had Roman shipped off the Hell.”
“I’ve heard about that ranch in Arizona,” I replied softly.
He stared at me with a haunted look in his eyes. “You two have more in common than you know. Please help him.”