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EAVESDROPPERS NEVER HEARD anything good about themselves. Wasn’t that how the saying went? Christos Drakakis gritted his teeth at that inconvenient reminder as he stood frozen in the middle of the smaller of his two adjoining conference rooms. Except he wasn’t eavesdropping per se. Both rooms had been empty when he entered five minutes ago, searing disappointment and blazing frustration colouring his perceptions.
Something that seemed to be happening with unwelcome frequency lately—
‘I think we can safely assume it’s reached DEFCON One around here.’
‘I was thinking more along the lines of nuclear fallout, until I saw his face, then I knew we were already way past that. Apparently, it’s been three years since he lost a case. I wasn’t here then, but I know heads rolled on that particular case.’
The sentence was delivered with deep apprehension.
Gary Willis, one of his associates, had every right to be feeling the same sickening sensation churning Christos’s
guts. That was the reason he’d sidetracked to the conference room instead of continuing to his office a few dozen floors above.
Most lawyers, no matter how stellar their reputation, accepted a degree of failure in the course of their profession. Most divorce lawyers took on certain cases with the expectation of having to compromise.
Not him.
Christos never took on a case unless he’d calculated how to achieve his endgame. His first loss had jolted him enough to vow never to take his eye off the ball again. His second had been because his client was a pathological liar who couldn’t speak the truth even to salvage his own divorce proceedings.
Today’s loss had been...out of his control. He’d debated every scenario, investigated every piece of information and triple-checked the opposition’s weak points. Everything should have gone his way. Yet somehow here he stood, disbelief shaking through his veins, with the dire reminder that the past was always there, waiting to rear its ugly head. Today’s lesson had been aimed at his client and friend, Kyrios, but it was Christos who was feeling the full after-effects of losing his third case in five years.
‘Are you sure it’s just this case troubling our esteemed leader? We only took it on three weeks ago. He’s been channelling Vlad the Impaler for the better part of two months now!’
Christos’s guts turned to stone, even as his mouth twisted in acid amusement.
Vlad the Impaler was an apt description. He’d been that way ever since the incident. And his grandfather’s increasingly pressured demands had only contributed to the...chafing that resided beneath his skin, making him excruciatingly aware that things weren’t settled in his world. Or as settled as they should be.
He detested excuses from his subordinates. Making them for himself was even more of an anathema. Which was why his inability to have this situation sorted successfully grated so badly.
‘Did something happen?’ Ben Smith, another associate, asked.
‘No idea,’ came Willis’s reply.
Yes, something happened. A moment of weakness with his executive assistant, which should’ve been easily dismissible, had somehow become lodged in Christos’s memory and refused to budge.
A late-night dinner with his EA in the company of an unusually friendly married couple who had chosen the high road to an amicable divorce. Drinks afterwards at his private club.
Nothing seemingly out of the norm.
And yet by the end of the night, a fundamental rule had been broken. He’d stepped over his own strict, personal line. A line they’d both agreed they’d never cross.
Rich, silky hair sliding between his fingers...
Full, eager lips beneath his own...
His greedy hands exploring the mounds and valleys of her supple, curvy body...
Breathless, lust-stoking moans he continued to hear in his dreams...
Christos’s blood immediately rushed south and he gritted his teeth tighter, tried harder to banish the focus-shredding thoughts from his mind. But clearly the gods weren’t on his side today, because right then the subject of his thoughts entered the conversation.
‘Alexis Sutton deserves sainthood for dealing with him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her react to him with anything but unruffled calm.’
Except for that night two months ago. His usually immaculate executive assistant had been thoroughly ruffled that night. And in a most delectable way that still dogged his imagination with a riling persistence.
In his more unforgiving moments, he laid the blame on his clients, who’d chosen to separate with affection instead of acrimony. Alexis had been vocal in her admiration for them during dinner, stating boldly it was what she’d prefer to do in a similar situation.
That had...thrown him. Enough for him to veer from professional to personal.
