He had the nerve to look confused. “It’s another divorce case. I thought you wanted your pick so you could avoid them.”
Bullshit. This was a high-profile divorce. Tariq Crawford was worth millions, and if there wasn’t a prenup? My father was trying to poach from his own son, and I narrowed my eyes. It was funny how work always came first with my parents over family. I felt compelled to remind him it was the same for me. “She asked for me by name, Robert.”
“I was just trying to do you a favor.” He balked at me using his first name, but I wanted to reinforce our professional line.
“Okay, thanks, but I’ve got this.”
He shook his head and put his hand on the door, signaling he was going back in. “It’s fine. I’ve already started with Ms. Crawford. Tell you what, you can take a look at the client list for—”
“I won’t do the New Year’s fundraiser.”
He stopped dead in his tracks, the door open a few inches. He pushed it back closed and turned to me, anger flashing in his eyes. “I don’t like being threatened.”
“Yeah? You’re in the wrong job, then. I don’t like clients being stolen from me.”
The ensuing argument probably played out in his head just as it did mine, while we stared at each other wordlessly. He wouldn’t win, and the moment he knew it was clear on his face. He pressed his lips together and drew in a deep, resigned breath.
I followed him into the conference room and waited as my father introduced me. Courtney had big blue eyes and long lashes, giving her a doe-like look. Her blonde hair was swept aside. Minimal makeup, or artfully applied to look that way.
“Well,” my father said, collecting up his tablet, pen, and paper. “I apologize you’ll need to go over this again with Kyle, but you’re in good hands.”
I set down my cup of coffee and sank into the seat. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Crawford. I’m told you asked for me?”
She nodded, fidgeting with her hands. Her ring finger was bare, which was a good sign for me. It was hard when the client hadn’t come to terms with what was going to happen.
“Julius,” she said. “He told me you helped him with some legal issue a few months ago.”
The blank expression said she had no idea what. She didn’t know what Julius did for a living? His comment about not being good enough for her made a lot more sense.
“Yes, I did,” I said. “But I can’t discuss that. What can I help you with?”
Her eyes grew wet with tears, but she blinked them back. “I need a divorce attorney. A good one.”
I smiled and hoped it was sincere without being cocky. “Perfect. I’m both.”
Chapter
FOUR
RUBY
How the fuck did my glasses always get so dirty? I rarely wore them. I’d forgotten to order contacts and torn the last pair I owned this morning while trying to put the left one in. Fuck my life. The black rimmed glasses were cute, but cheap.
I was still polishing them during the elevator ride up, then into the opposing firm’s lobby, and all the way to their conference room. The smudge would not come off, and it made me look like a crazy person. I’d wipe the lenses, peer through them up at the light, and then go right back to wiping.
I sat in a chair and didn’t even know where we were. Henry was the lead on this case, and he grabbed me out of the pool of junior lawyers, mostly because I was a woman, and therefore, assumed I would be excellent at taking notes. Sexist pig. He gave me no information other than the guy was a football player and hot shit.
We rode in the elevator together, and it turned out Hot Shit’s name was Tariq Crawford. He looked unhappy and uncomfortable in his gray suit, but I figured it was from the legal proceedings about to occur rather than his attire. I didn’t pay much attention to sports, but I knew professional players had to dress nicely when they traveled. He probably had a closet full of expensive suits.
Or maybe a hotel room. I wasn’t sure what kind of divorce this was.
He was attractive. Tall and lean, with dark skin and beautifully black, expressive eyes. He wore his hair in clean dreads which were gathered in back, and gave him a professional and serious look.
The conference room wasn’t empty. A tiny blonde woman sat across from me. The only thing in front of her was her phone, and her pained gaze flew to Tariq. So, obviously, the wife. She was cute, and I would bet when she smiled, she was dazzling. But she wasn’t smiling today. Her eyes were full of sadness.
Sitting next to her was a gorgeous piece of man. His charcoal slim-fit suit hung perfectly on his shoulders, and the purple-plaid tie was knotted exactly so at his neck. A short beard, if you could call it that, wrapped around sexy lips. His brown hair was mussed nicely, calling me to run my fingers through it and make the curling ends lay just a little flatter. The maple color of his hair and scruff set off the blue in his eyes.
Which were staring at me with something like horror trapped inside.