Most people would’ve missed it, but I don’t.Growing up walking on eggshells, you notice everything.
Every fucking thing.
CHAPTER THREE
ZANDER
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Let me get this straight.Courtney Blackmore, previously Courtney Jones from South Tucson, Arizona, a former Walmart employee and model, wantsmycredentials.
I don’t know whether to stab her in the eye with my Montblanc pen or laugh.
The pen, it’s the pen.
She holds my stare with courage she has no right having, and I feel for her soon-to-be ex-husband for a moment.
“I’m going to assume you read our website, researched me thoroughly, and have done your due diligence on my firm’s successes.”I hold her stare for a solid moment, then flip open the folder.“And that you can calculate the hourly rate—both mine as senior partner and founder and my two associates—and would rather we discuss your divorce than toot our own horns.”
Mrs.Blackmore seethes.
It’s carefully hidden behind her slow smile, the way she rearranges her hands on the table, then tucks her hair behind her ear.
I’ll admit, I’m impressed with the control she’s showing.I’m able to bring powerful men to their knees, and while I’m just getting started, someone with more experience than this woman would have at least flinched.
She does neither.
That’s hot.
I disregard my inner thoughts.
“If this is how you treat your friends, then I’m looking forward to watching you in the courtroom with my husband and his legal team,” Courtney says, still attempting to dominate the room.
And me.
A bad move.
