Chapter 27 #2
Her mouth curved. “What’s your rate, lawyer?”
I gave her a look. “One dollar, apparently.”
She laughed at the meaning. “I’m your cheapest client then?”
I didn’t answer right away, mostly because I wasn’t sure what I could say without opening doors I’d already decided were staying shut. I just watched her. Watched the way her eyes lingered on me like she was searching for something beneath the surface.
“Consider yourself lucky,” I said evenly. “I usually charge more.”
“Why the discount? Special circumstances?”
“You could say that.”
Her cheeks flushed slightly. Was she blushing?
“Really, what is your rate?” she asked, almost cautiously. As if she genuinely cared about my billing structure. As if the specifics mattered.
I shrugged, buying myself a second. “I don’t know. I don’t charge hourly.”
Her eyebrows lifted, curiosity sparking. Of course. I shouldn’t have said that. Now she’d just dig deeper, and I wasn’t exactly in the mood to discuss my financial details. Or maybe it wasn’t the finances bothering me. Maybe it was the realization Valentina was interested at all.
“Then how do you charge?”
I hesitated again. Usually, I’d evade, deflect, throw up a wall. But Valentina had this infuriating way of climbing over those walls, so what was the point?
“Yearly retainers,” I finally said. “Usually around five million per family. More if they’re particularly difficult.”
Her eyes widened slightly, the number sinking in. I could see her calculating what that meant. Maybe she was finally realizing why I didn’t have sugar or personality cluttering my apartment—I didn’t have time for much beyond work. Didn’t need much else either.
“And Max?” she asked, curiosity brightening her eyes even more.
I gave her a dry look, not bothering to hide my amusement. “Max pays double. But he’s worth the headache.”
She laughed softly, the sound unexpected enough that it actually made me pause.
Shit, when did I start liking the way her laughter sounded?
“You said families,” she pointed out, leaning forward a little. “How many others do you work for? I figured Max would want you all to himself.”
It was fair—most people assumed Max monopolized my time. Max liked people to think that, liked them to believe his pockets were deep enough to buy loyalty. But loyalty wasn’t what I was selling. Loyalty was messy, complicated. Loyalty got you killed. Or worse, it got other people killed.
No—I didn’t sell loyalty. I sold discretion.
“I don’t care for ethics, Valentina,” I said plainly. “I defend whoever pays me enough to make it worth my while.”
She studied me quietly, taking that in. It felt strangely exposing, laying out my principles—or lack thereof—so clearly. But I didn’t look away. Couldn’t even if I wanted to.
Finally, she smirked again, shaking her head slightly. “So you’re loyal to the paycheck, not the man? You make disloyalty sound so charming.”
“It’s not disloyalty,” I objected. “It’s business. Loyalty is reserved for people who deserve it.”
“Does Max deserve it?”
“Max deserves discretion,” I clarified quietly, watching her carefully. “That’s different.”
“And what about me?”
My head fell back. “Clarify.”
“Do I get loyalty or discretion?” she asked.
“You get whatever you want. You already do, don’t you?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I think you already know what my answer is, yeah?”
She smiled sweetly. “Yeah.”
“Then spare me.”
“Fine. Just this once.”
Valentina looked down at the card again, spinning it between her fingers like she was debating whether to keep it or toss it back in my face. Either option wouldn’t have surprised me.
“So,” she began with a cunning smile, “does this mean I can get Louboutins?”
I almost smiled. Almost. “You never wear Louboutins.”
Her eyes danced with amusement. “You pay attention to what I wear?”
What was I supposed to say? Yes, Valentina, I notice your shoes, your dresses, and the way you wear your hair. I notice everything, even though I’m not supposed to.
“You wear Manolos.”
“And here I thought you only cared about contracts and billable hours.”
I shrugged. “Consider it market research.”
She laughed softly. It was quiet, almost surprised. “Is that your way of calling me high-maintenance?”
“Are you denying it?”
She paused, clearly deciding how honest she wanted to be. Then she tilted her head, smiling slowly. “No.”
Of course she wasn’t. Valentina didn’t deny things—she embraced them. It was part of her charm. And the reason she was so damn exhausting.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a second thing—a key card. “It’s for the apartment. In case you forget what door you belong to.”
“Sweet of you to take care of me like this.”
I ignored her and held out my hand.
She blinked. “What?”
“Your phone.”
She hesitated for a second, probably deciding whether I was worth trusting with it or not, before finally handing it over. I took it, swiped to the call screen, and dialed my own number.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I handed hers back.
“Now I have your number.”
Valentina smirked, tilting her head slightly. “So you do want to talk to me.”
I met her gaze. “No. I just need to know where you are when you inevitably make my life harder.”
She grinned. “I love how you pretend you won’t answer when I call.”
I ignored her. “We’ll talk more about this arrangement tonight.” I turned toward the door. “Don’t do anything stupid today.”
She hummed. “Define stupid.”
I didn’t look back as I shut the door behind me.
Define stupid, she’d said.
Impossible fucking woman.
As if she needed me to explain what stupid was. Her entire existence was a case study in bad decisions. And apparently, so was mine, because I’d married her.