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But then there’s instant relief. With the touch of a button, Hades has activated some kind of shading technology, darkening the windows. It turns the Toronto cityscape into a collection of silhouettes and shadows.
“I have to admit I was surprised to receive your correspondence, Mr. Titone,” Hades says. “I figured your family would have an army of lawyers at their beck and call.”
“We do,” I grunt in confirmation. “That’s exactly why I’m here. I don’t want any lawyers connected with my uncle touching my will with a ten-foot pole.”
“Why?”
I stare at him. Even with the glass tinted the way it is, plenty of light filters in. It gleams on his odd hair, the palest blond I think I’ve ever seen on a grown man. He’s tall, and pretty built for a guy who probably spends most of his time behind a desk.
“It’s been a long, long time since I’ve let a man working for me ask me why I do anything,” I say, more bemused than anything.
“We haven’t signed an agreement. You’re not my client and I don’t work for you. Yet.”
He removes his glasses, polishing the lenses with a cloth he pulls from… somewhere. I have no clue where he got it. This office is absurdly clean and clutter-free. His desk has nothing on it but a computer monitor, and while there’s furniture in here, something tells me it’s more for clients than for him.
“Your name was enough to get you in my door without an appointment,” he goes on, “which is already a rare feat. But I have protocols and principles in place. To borrow your earlier language, I don’t touch any new work with a ten-foot pole, no matter how lucrative or how important to the client it may be, unless I have a full and transparent understanding of the client’s needs and motivations. So, I will ask you again, and if you want to work together I expect you to actually answer me. Why are you refusing to work with your current representation to craft your will?”
He puts his glasses back on and gazes relentlessly at me with those gunmetal eyes. I can feel Curse shifting closer to the door, ready to lock it and smash Hades’ white-blond head into his desk as soon as I give the signal.
But I don’t. For some reason, Hades’ cold confidence isn’t pissing me off. I don’t think there’s much arrogance or ego involved. It’s just that…
He isn’t afraid of me at all.
Usually, I’d say that’s a sign of a very stupid man. But I already know that I’m not dealing with a stupid man right now.
A grudging tendril of respect for him takes root, and I decide to answer his question honestly. He’s probably smart enough to figure it out on his own anyway, when he sees who I’m leaving everything to.
“Our family’s lawyers have been working for our uncle since before I turned eighteen. They were his lawyers first, and when push comes to shove, I can’t count on them being loyal to me over him. I need fresh-”
“Blood?” Hades offers.
“I was going to say eyes, but yes. That’s the gist of it.”
“And do you expect push to come to shove?”
“I don’t necessarily expect my uncle to contest my will if I die before him, if that’s what you mean,” I say, shaking my head. “But I don’t want a lawyer connected with him helping to draft it. I don’t want some stupid sneaky clause added in that I don’t know about, or some not-so-accidental mistake being made that renders the will null and void.”
“I see,” he responds. “Well, it certainly makes sense for a man of your position, wealth, and, shall we say, liability-laden lifestyle to have a will in place.”
I snort, then instantly regret it as pain splinters through my ribs.
“Liability-laden?” I repeat, raising my brows. “That’s some real smooth lawyer-talk if I’ve ever heard it.”
Why, no, I’m not part of a violent crime family with enemies everywhere I turn. I just live a liability-laden lifestyle.
Cristo Santo.
“Anyway,” I say, “I already do have a will. Due to the aforementioned lifestyle and position and wealth. I own multiple corporations and have significant investments and property in my name. This would be a new will, to supersede the old one.”
“I see. And are you adding beneficiaries?”
“Adding one,” I confirm, “and removing another. Currently, everything I have is entailed upon my uncle, all of it to be rolled into the family estate. But I want to change that. Everything should now go to Deirdre Elizabeth O’Malley.”
“Soon to be Titone, I presume. That is your fiancée, correct? I saw the engagement announcement.”
“Yes. After February twenty-ninth, she’ll be my wife. I want everything I have to go to her. Every cent. And I want it done in such a way that nobody can touch it. Not even my uncle. If we have to set up trusts, we’ll do it. If we have to start funneling money out of the country and set up a safe haven for her in Panama or Switzerland or some shit, we’ll do that too.”
“I see why you’re looking for discretion and some distance from your family’s usual representation.”
