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Fuck.
I told her tostay at the fucking barfor a reason.
Orin Crowley’s notoriously paranoid, and he clearly instilled that same sense of impending doom into all four of his musclehead, violent sons.
Fiona was supposed to stay far away, not only so I didn’t lose an important new client, but also for her own damn protection.
Now she’s in here, staring at me, waiting for me to say something.
They’re all waiting. And I get the sense that it’s not only my business hanging in the balance.
It’s Fiona’s life.
Along with my own.
“Now’s the time to say something,” Liam says, his voice low but sharp. Like the voice of a shark ready to eat.
A dozen ideas spring through my head.
Tell them the truth.
Pretend like I’ve never seen her before.
Jump across the table, steal Nolan’s gun, and kill them all.
But only one thing sticks in my skull.
The only way I can think of to salvage this meeting, still win this business, and keep my headstrong legal assistant alive.
I sit up straight and plaster a smooth smile on my face. I will myself not to start sweating as I gesture over my shoulder.
“Orin, this is my new wife, Fiona Kelleher. Fiona, darling, say hello.”
Chapter4
Fiona
“Orin, this is my new wife, Fiona Kelleher. Fiona, darling, say hello.”
What the hell?
Did he just saynew wife? As in, I’m his wife, and we’re married?
Like, husband, wife, loving relationship, sharing a marital bed, all that stuff?
My brain’s slow to process. I’m still in panic mode because of the fire back at my apartment, but now my fight-or-flight response is also severely triggered by the four massive thugs with the guns they’re clearly itching to point at my face.
Now I understand why Gareth wanted me to stay behind.
These guys are monsters.
No, it’s worse than that. I overheard a little of what they were saying as I came into the room.
These guys are drug dealers. They’re organized crime. They’re probably freakingmafia.
I knew Gareth had some shady clients. Most lawyers do, especially at a certain level. But I had no clue he was actively courting criminals.
Everyone’s staring at me. The older man sitting in the center narrows his gaze like he’s looking for a weakness. Like he’s probing me for cracks.
