Broken Reign: Enemies-To-Lovers Romance

She’s pissed, and rightfully so, but that’s not my problem. “I made him an offer—”

“He couldn’t refuse,” she fires back, rolling her eyes.

“Absolutely not.”

“So, here we are. Please tell me how I can be of service, and we can move this thing right along.” She looks at me with cold and discerning eyes.

There is more to it than this. She fought to work with Felix, and I wonder if my initial thought is true. Is she banging him? I’m not sure why, but my hands fist at my side. I shake my head, clearing the thoughts I don’t want right now.

“Since you’re my attorney now, this is all attorney-client privilege.”

“Certainly.”

“Very well. I want out,” I offer as my reason.

“Out?” Her eyebrows lift, clearly confused.

“Of the game,” I clarify.

“And the game is?”

I tilt my head, giving her a look that says are you kidding? “Don’t play coy, Skye—”

“Ms. Matthews,” she interrupts.

“You want me to call you Ms. Matthews?”

“Yes, I think—”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Um . . . excuse me?”

“Is this going to be a problem, Skye?” I lead, annoyed that she is being this difficult. “Should I call Seth and let him know this isn’t going to work?” If I do that, her job is as good as gone. She knows this. I know this. There is no reason to duck behind false pretenses. “Hope your résumé is all bright and shiny. Maybe you can be a public defender. That’s a good name for you . . . Sunshine.”

Her eyes go wide. She doesn’t like the nickname. It unnerved her.

Note to self . . . start calling her that.

Soon, she is righting herself, but her shock is replaced quickly with anger. The scowl that lines her face is priceless. It’s also a look I have seen many times in my life: pure, unadulterated hatred. It oozes out of her pores. If looks could kill, I’d be dead. Good thing they don’t, because I still have one more game to play. After that, I’d happily die by her hand.

“Yes, Skye. I want to go legitimate. Good enough for you?”

“Yes. But I don’t see how I can be of service.”

“I have a few loose ends I want to tie up, and I need to make sure nothing, and I mean nothing, interferes with that.”

“So, what does that mean? You’re talking in riddles.”

“Until I get completely out, and all of my holdings are on the up-and-up, I need my new lawyer with me.”

“How much time?”

“All of it. All the time. All the meetings. Every day until this is over.” Her mouth drops. This isn’t the first time since I have known her that she has worn this look. The shock on her face is almost laughable.

“Don’t worry, Skye, Williams already knows.”

“You need a high-priced babysitter?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You want me to follow you around and make sure you don’t get into trouble. That sounds like a babysitter. A nanny of sorts.” She’s a feisty one, and although I expected it, I didn’t realize how much I would like it. That spitfire attitude is a real turn-on. And since most women don’t think of talking back to me, let alone casually insulting me, I feel like a fish out of water.

What the fuck, Tobias? Get your shit together. She works for you.

“I need someone to go with me to meetings. Make sure everything I sign is legit. Make sure this transfer of power is beyond reproach.”

She watches me for a second, and then she does something I don’t expect. She nods without protest.

“I can do that,” she says.

“Good, then let’s go.”

Her eyebrows pinch together. “Where are we going?”

“So many questions from one little mouth . . .” I trail off as I stand. Not giving her time to object, I start to walk. From behind me, I can hear her heels hitting the concrete as she scampers to catch up. This is going to be fun. Or it’s going to be the death of me.

Either way, it’s a hell of a way to go.

Skye Matthews is my obsession. My past.

My future.

My downfall.

12

Skye

This man is trying to kill me. Not literally. Figuratively. But he will be the death of me. That’s for sure.

If I could wipe the smug look off his face, I would. I would use a bleach-covered towel and hope the fumes burned his eyes out, too! Eyes that I know were checking me out.

The worst part about this whole thing is that I liked it. Every look, every glance, and every smug gesture. I should have been mortified, but I wasn’t.

Sure, at first, I was. But the moment I saw his eyes dilate with lust, all thought of embarrassment went out the window. Now that I’m dressed in his shirt, it’s even worse.

It smells like fresh dry cleaning and hints of his cologne. The way his fragrance wraps around me shouldn’t make my belly warm.