My gaze snaps to her as a feeling ripples through me I’m not accustomed to. It feels a lot like protectiveness, yet it’s different from what I’ve felt before, and there’s a powerful urge to scoop her into my arms, to comfort her and make that demure tone of hers disappear.
Nothing good will come from you showing her kindness, asshole,I chastise myself.Sully’s just gotten into your head.
“Is something the matter, Raina?” I taunt instead, like the jackass I am.
She looks up at me with fire in her eyes but says nothing before dropping her gaze back to where her hands sit clasped in her lap.
“Yes, I want to be your lawyer,” I continue, busying my hands by shuffling the files around on my desk, “even though every cell in my brain is screaming that it’s a conflict of interest.”
“I can find someone else…”
“Raina, I won’t keep going in circles with you about this. You need a divorce attorney who is going to work for you. As I said previously, this won’t be as cut and dry as you think?—”
“I know,” she interjects, but I continue.
“—yourhusband”—I cringe inwardly as I say the word that feels like concrete on my tongue—“has wealth and power on his side.”
“So do I.”
“But the rules are different in Spain, and?—”
“Let me make myself very clear, Luciano,” she interrupts again, this time finding her spirit. “I don’t need a savior. I need a lawyer, and I’m not asking for anything other than your legal expertise.”
Exasperating. Fucking. Woman.
Lacing my hands together, I place them on the desk in front of me and wait to see if she’s finished with her tirade. Twice now she’s cut me off mid-sentence—a pet peeve of mine—and I’ve kicked people out of my office for less irritating reasons.
Ever so slightly, she cocks her head and smirks, clearly realizing what I’m doing, before crossing her arms over her chest. Leaning back in her chair, she embraces the silence in the room.
After a few moments have passed, I continue. “The rules in Spain are different. They’re more—how can I say this without sounding like a complete asshole?Traditional.” Adjusting myself, I take a more relaxed position in my chair. “He has to save face, especially in his position of power. He may be low-ranking nobility in a society that no longerlegallyrecognizes it, but barons are still highly respected and have a say in the land they own and therefore everything that happens on it. Based on my research of the Moreno family, they own a lot of land throughout the country. When the title is passed to him, he’ll inherit all the revenue streams and become the head of their family. There’s a lot at stake now that they know about you, and subsequently, there’s not a chance he won’t go down without a fight. His family may pose an even bigger headache when they see hiswifetrying to flee.”
Raina purses her lips as she switches the leg she has crossed. “It shouldn’t be an issue.”
“What do you mean, it shouldn’t be an issue?”
“I took care of it. All Javier wants is a temporary scapegoat. Since he’s inheriting the title, his family has expectations for him to take a bride, and somehow they found out that on paper he’s already married. He just needs a fake wife, and I created a ‘get out of marriage free card’ of my own.”
My eyebrows knit together, trying to figure out where she’s going with this. “Go on.”
Raina clears her throat and rubs the edge of her manicured fingernail over another as she stares down at her hand. She’s hiding something important from me. I can tell by the way she’s currently avoiding eye contact and pulling her delectable bottom lip in with her teeth.
“Say it,” I growl. This case—she—is making me irrationally irritated.
This is such a mistake.
She shrugs casually, like she’s not knee deep in quicksand. “He needed a fake wife, so I made up a fake fiancé. I told him I couldn’t play into his scheme for long because I am engaged.”
Anger seeps into my bloodstream so intensely it boils. I should kick her out of my office right now. Be done with this. Pretend she doesn’t exist as anything more than my sister's friend.
Better yet, I could leave. A walk around the block might keep me from saying something I’ll regret.
Instead of doing either of those things, I go pour myself three fingers of whiskey from the decanter on my bookshelf and toss it back before returning my attention to her. “And who did you say your fiancé is?”
“I didn’t.” She watches as I slowly return to my seat, her eyes tracking my movements.
“He didn't ask?”
“He only questioned where my ring was.”
