9. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
L una
On Tuesday morning, I walked into the reception area alone, and Brenna looked up from her desk.
“Oh, you didn’t drive with Roman? Is he getting bored already? And what a perfectly basic Walmart outfit you have on.” Her smile was as fake as her eyelashes.
Shaking my head, I glanced at her as I strode by. “I don’t mind sparring with you, but you need to up your game. And your nose is shiny.” Her hand automatically went for her purse before she could stop herself.
I walked through the doors to the offices and headed for Gideon’s desk. He looked up and smiled. “Good morning, Ms. Cross, I’m glad you came back.”
“Hello, Gideon, I wish I could say the same.” I winced at how rude that sounded. “But it’s always nice to see you.”
I walked into Roman’s office. “Take a seat,” he said without looking up.
“No, I think I’ll stand. So this is what it feels like to be summoned. I never got in trouble in school, so I never experienced the dreaded trip to the principal’s office.”
“That’s a little dramatic.” Roman finally gave me his attention, dark eyes appraising.
Despite knowing better, I opened our negotiations. “Look, I'm grateful for the learning curve here, and as much as it pains me to admit, I like the field trips. Your clients are varied and interesting, and you attempt to put up with my curiosity, my ‘restless mind syndrome’ as it’s been labeled by my roommates. But I need to keep my grades up, which means I need to study and spend time at school.”
His lips quirked. “Is that like restless leg syndrome?”
“Pretty much.”
Roman leaned back and steepled his fingers. “How about Tuesdays and Thursdays until class and all day Friday? You'll still ride with me, and weekends and functions as needed. If you’re studying for longer than three hours, you come here to do it.”
He knew my schedule, damn Klim and his big mouth. Weekends, and I come here to study? The man was fucking insane. The rest didn’t sound too crazy.
“Tuesday and Friday mornings, and I drive myself, plus I’ll meet you at your out-of-office appointments if I’m able. That’s a perfectly reasonable schedule.”
He raised an eyebrow. “A minimum of Tuesdays and Thursdays until class, and half-day Friday. Occasional functions, and I drive.”
“Oh, come on! You barely moved off your first offer. And when exactly am I supposed to study and have a life?”
“You’ll have most of the weekend and evenings to study, and access to several top-notch legal minds. It’s not like you go out much in the evenings or on weekends anyway. You and your friends are either at school, work, or holed up in your apartment.”
My eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”
“It’s not rocket science–two of you are law students.”
The man made me paranoid. “That’s so generous,” I replied sarcastically. “But, again , you don’t need to drive me.” I tried to calculate how many hours that would be as I felt this traitorous pull of excitement at spending more time with Roman. This was not good.
“Driving will be my pleasure. And weekends–”
“What if I have plans?” My voice raised to a high pitch.
“We’ll negotiate those as they come along, but don’t push me.” The muscles in his jaw flexed. Roman stood, the move calculated to hurry this along.
I needed to get control of this negotiation. “So my personal life just evaporates? My study time—”
“I’ll make sure you have plenty of time to study too,” Roman interjected, his dark brown eyes sparkling. The bastard was enjoying this.
“Klim is a traitor. He's supposed to be my guidance counselor, yet somehow you know my school schedule, and he's on your side.”
He didn’t deny it. “Klim sees your potential,” Roman replied smoothly, a little quirk playing on his lips. “As do I. Imagine the connections and doors we could open for you.”
“I don’t care about doors, or connections, or schmoozing.”
He studied me and I swear I could see his mind plotting. “Then I’ll make sure you have new experiences, learn new things, help assuage your insatiable curiosity.”
Oh, he was good . “That is something.”
He inclined his head. “High praise. You have to intern with someone; it’s a law school and scholarship requirement. You can’t graduate without it.” The timbre of his voice wrapped around me like velvet. “So why not make the most of it? I can teach you so many things.”
Why did that sound sensual? “I’m aware of that, and not all of them are probably legal.”
Roman gave me a full-fledged grin. “Let's talk logistics.”
Logistics. That was legalese for Roman getting his way. Rolling my shoulders back, I met his gaze squarely. "Right. Tuesdays and Thursdays until noon. Every other Friday for half the day, and one weekend event a month. You drive when it’s convenient for both of us. I still want to go on the field trips when I can.”
He stared at me for a few seconds as he mentally reviewed my counteroffer, then he shrugged. “Agreed. That was invigorating,” Roman smirked and held out his hand.
I reached out and shook it, my small hand dwarfed by his. The brief contact sent an electric shock up my arm, and he chuckled when I jumped.
Pulling my hand back, I put it behind my back protectively. “I’m putting this in writing, and we’re both signing it.”
“I’d expect nothing less. Look at us, negotiating schedules like reasonable people,” he mockingly marveled.
When I left for class later that day, I couldn't shake the feeling that I’d walked into some kind of trap.
Over the next few weeks, I prepared for mid-terms and settled into a routine at the law offices. Roman continued to drive on the days I came in, and when I looked back, I couldn’t figure out exactly how that had happened. We sometimes ate lunch together before he dropped me off. We’d also gotten into the habit of discussing interesting legal concepts, or what we’d read or watched on TV.
“You read quite a bit, especially for a law student,” he said one day as we discussed a sci-fi series we both loved.
It was true. Most law students read their homework, and that was all they could stomach.
“I’m a fast reader. And my mind would probably seize up if I didn’t feed it something else occasionally. Or maybe start cannibalizing itself.” I turned to him. “Did you know numerous animal species sometimes eat their own? Like chimpanzees, hippos, and polar bears. My friend had a cute little hamster who had babies–”
Roman cut in. “Thank you for that stomach-churning fact right before lunch.” I smiled contentedly and leaned back.
That Friday, I prowled the offices to see who looked the least busy. Xander walked into the break room with a coffee mug, and I followed him. He was the quietest of the bunch and listened silently when the others got into discussions or arguments. Xander had said maybe five sentences in front of me since we met.
I put my hands together in a pleading gesture. “I need help with an income tax law problem that may or may not be on the midterm. Do you have a minute?”
He gazed down at me. “Yes.” He got coffee then turned and walked to his office. I assumed Xander meant for me to follow him.
His quiet demeanor didn’t bother me. I’d never detected that undercurrent of animosity from him that I sometimes felt from the other partners.
Sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs in front of his desk, I wiggled my butt. “This chair is horrible. It feels like I’m being pitched forward, and the cushion is as hard as cement.”
“I know.”
His chairs were a brilliant idea if you didn’t like talking to people, and wanted to keep office visits to a minimum. “Huh. So they’re uncomfortable on purpose, got it. Is depletion always a cause for depreciation? I understand depletion refers to irreplaceable resources, but does it then trigger depreciation?”
Xander tilted his head and studied me for a few seconds, and I wondered if he hadn’t heard me. Then he started explaining. “You’d need to distinguish and show the extent of depletion and depreciation.” Then he took a legal pad and thoroughly illustrated the concept for me.
When he finished, I pulled the pad to me, reviewed his notes carefully, and ripped off the page so I could keep it. I beamed at him. “You’d make a great law professor. I’ve got it, thank you.”
Roman didn’t give me any assignments over midterms, and to my annoyance, I tended to study the best in the small office next to his. My noise-canceling headphones and highlighters became a joke around the office, and the day before my tax law midterm, I found a pack of highlighters sitting on my chair with a note scrawled on the packaging that read “Good luck, X.”
Later that afternoon as I took the test, my lip twitched while reading through an exam problem about depletion and depreciation. I mentally brought up Xander’s diagram and answered the question.
After the test, Jared Gardner stood in the hallway waiting for me. “I haven’t seen you at the library. How’s the internship from hell going?”
“I’m fine, and the internship has gotten better. They let me study there when I’m not shadowing anyone. How are midterms going for you?”
“Good. How about dinner?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “I’m working at the funeral home this evening.”
Disappointment flitted across his face, and he shook his head. “I’ve never met anyone who lives and works above a funeral home next to a cemetery.”
“Well, the neighbors always mind their own business.”
He squinted his eyes. “Was that a joke? How about tomorrow, then?”
Sliding my backpack on, I started walking backward toward the door. “I’ve got to go. See you later.”
When my last mid-term in corporations rolled around, I knocked on Roman's door. He looked up, dark eyes fixing on mine with a now familiar intensity.
“Do you have a minute?” He motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Corporate mergers... how do they affect shareholder rights?”
He leaned back. “Still taking advantage of our ‘great legal minds’?”
“Sure. If it makes you feel better to call yourselves that.”
Smirking, he looked back at his laptop. “Let me finish this email and we’ll go to lunch and discuss it.”
I watched him work. His hair had gotten a little longer, and a dark strand fell across his forehead. He was so compelling and charismatic, with his razor-sharp mind behind that chiseled, striking face. He still didn’t seem to like me, and sometimes he stared at me with frigid, flat eyes, but since I’d walked out that Friday after my altercation with Ivan, he’d been less cold.
We walked past Brenna, who smiled at Roman and stared through me. She had a faint line of lip gloss across her incisors. “You’ve got lipstick on your teeth,” I informed her, pointing to her mouth.
“I’m not falling for that again,” she bit out. I shrugged, knowing she’d check as soon as the door closed behind us.
We went to a little lunch spot just off Fremont Street and ate at an outside table, enjoying the fall sunshine while we discussed my corporation question.
“It's all about leverage and who’s in control,” he explained as we dug into our food.
“Sounds like a normal day dealing with you,” I needled him. He raised an eyebrow and then explained the intricacies of corporate mergers while I listened and tried to absorb his explanation.
“Okay, I think I understand it enough to fumble my way through.” I wiped my hands on my napkin as we finished up.
“Anything else, Ms. Cross?”
“No, Mr. Fowler. That was informative, thank you. You’re sarcastic and abrupt, but you don’t dumb things down or try to mansplain to me.”
Roman searched my face, his eyes settling on my lips. “You’re certainly not dumb, and only an idiot would talk down to you.” He seemed to shake himself. “You’ve wasted enough of my day, let’s get back.”
Shaking my head, I chuckled humorlessly as I started to stand. “I should know a compliment from you will also come with a verbal slap.”
Just then, a man walked up to us. “Roman, nice to see you. This is one of my favorite lunch spots too.”
Roman straightened. “Hello, Cameron.” They shook hands, and the man took a seat at our table, but after an awkward pause, it appeared Roman didn’t plan to introduce me. He could be such a prick sometimes. I tried not to let the slight hurt me, and took matters into my own hands, sticking my palm out across the table. “Hello. I’m Luna Cross, Roman’s law student intern.”
“Luna, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Cameron Wilder.” He grinned and shook my hand.
Cameron wore expensive, business-casual clothes, and had thick brown hair with gray at his temples. He was probably in his late thirties and extremely attractive. His name also sounded familiar. “Oh, I know where I’ve heard your name,” I exclaimed.
Roman stiffened next to me, but I pressed on. “You own Wilder Technologies and there’s a scholarship in your company’s name at the law school. One of my best friends won it last year. It made a huge difference–you have no idea. So thank you.” I’d heard Cameron’s tech company had created several legal research programs, and he’d gifted millions to the law school.
He grasped my arm and squeezed. “I’m glad. What’s your friend’s name?”
“Alexa Torres. She’s also my roommate.”
“I remember reviewing her application. What year are you?” Before I could answer, Roman’s phone rang, and he looked down at it.
“I need to take this.” His blank face didn’t give me any clues, so I shrugged and pointed to the restaurant.
“I’m going to use the restroom then.” I turned to Cameron as Roman answered the call. “It was nice to meet you.”
Cameron stood as I got up. “You too, Luna. I hope we meet again.” He’d been charming and polite, and I wondered why Roman seemed so annoyed.
When I exited the restaurant and started toward our outdoor table, I felt a hand on my arm. Cameron stood in the doorway as if he’d been waiting for me.
“I’ll keep you company while Roman finishes his call if that’s alright.”
I glanced at Roman, who was still talking on his phone, but he watched us with a clenched jaw. Turning to Cameron, I smiled. “Sounds good to me.”
He took my elbow and led us to an empty bench. “Do you plan to work with Roman when you graduate?” Cameron asked.
I chuckled, then realized Cameron was serious. “Uh, no. He has no interest in hiring me as an attorney, and I plan to practice water law.”
A confused look crossed his face, and he glanced over at Roman. “I don’t know a lot about that area of law, but I know water is vital to Las Vegas. Isn’t training and then hiring an intern the major reason firms take them on?”
Cameron had zeroed in on the troubling enigma that still plagued me about Roman and this situation. I turned to him and sighed. “I’m more confused than you are. To be honest, he doesn’t like me, and I’ve asked countless times to be released from this internship.”
A shadow fell over my lap, and I looked up to see Roman standing over me with his arms folded. He reached down and took my hand, pulling me up. “Let’s go. I have work to do.”
Cameron stood too. “Luna, come to lunch with me next week. I want to continue our conversation.”
My body locked, and I didn’t know how to respond. “I’ll, uh, check my schedule. That sounds nice, though.” As soon as the words were out, I wanted to smack my forehead. Dating was typically awkward and painful for me, and this exchange with Cameron was a perfect example.
His gaze softened at my discomfort. “You have to eat, right?” He turned to Roman. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I’d like to discuss a few things.”
“Cameron, she’s my intern, and during that time, she’s not going on dates, having lunch with, or fucking anyone I introduce her to. I’d say it was good to see you, but that would be a lie. If you’ll excuse us.”
I took in a sharp breath. “You did not just say that.”
Roman glanced at me and grinned wickedly. “Yes, I believe I did.”
Cameron shrugged, not intimidated by Roman’s cold bluntness. “That’s not up to you, is it? Luna, it was a pleasure to meet you. I’ll be in touch.”
“You too, Cameron.” I smiled at him and waved with my free hand as Roman growled and started dragging me away.
When we were out of earshot, he leaned down and murmured in my ear. “For the love of God, stop being so provocative or I might have to hurt someone. Cameron came close, and I usually like the fucker.”
I stopped dead on the sidewalk, violently yanked my hand out of his grip, and glared up at him. “Stop being such a mean asshole. It wasn’t my fault, and if you ever say something like that again, I might have to hurt you .”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out through his nose. “Come on, let’s get back to the office.” We sat in loud silence on the drive back.
I had another nightmare that night, only this time it varied from the usual horrific flashbacks, and it made the dream more terrifying.
Alexa was the one who shook me awake this time. “Luna, wake up. You’re scaring me. Luna!” I gasped, and my eyes flew open. My body was clammy, but I felt sweaty and sick. Rolling off my bed, I stumbled to the bathroom and threw up what remained of my dinner, barely making it to the toilet.
My head hung over the bowl as I waited for the heaving to stop. Alexa ran hot water over a washcloth and when my stomach settled, she handed it to me.
She looked worried and rubbed my back soothingly. “It must’ve been a doozy. I don’t remember you throwing up before.”
My hands shook, and sweat and tears bathed my face. “It was different this time. Oh, God, what if they’re getting worse instead of better?”
“Didn’t your therapist encourage you to talk about them? I’ll listen.”
After washing my face, rinsing my mouth a few times, and brushing my teeth, we walked out to the kitchen. It was just after five in the morning, and we gave up trying to go back to bed.
“Where’s Sylvie?” I asked her.
Alexa turned to me with the tea kettle in her hand. “She got up a few minutes before your nightmare started. I think she went down to the mortuary. They had a suicide come in yesterday.”
We shared a look, and I thought of Sylvie down in the embalming room by herself. “What was the cause of death?”
“Intentional overdose.”
I sighed in quiet relief. It was still horrible, but at least it wasn’t by hanging. The three of us had suffered childhood trauma, and we all knew each other’s triggers. No wonder we got along so well. “Let’s keep an eye on her over the next few days.”
Alexa nodded. “Tell me about your dream. How was it different this time?”
Speaking about that night always left me feeling gutted and hollow. I rubbed my hand over my face and sighed. “It was bad.”
She grabbed two mugs and pulled a packet of tea down from the cupboard. “How bad? Worse than your usual dream?”
“Yes. I think I was an adult this time, and… Roman Fowler stood in the closet doorway.”
“Well, fuck,” Alexa exhaled.
“Yeah.” I didn’t tell her about me pleading with him to help me wake up, to stop my father, to not blame me–for what I didn’t know. But in the dream, Roman stared at me with his cold, flat eyes as I lay there panting in pain, my arm at an odd angle, blood coating my face and chest. Then he stepped back and shut the closet door.