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She gives me a brief nod and efficiently starts coordinating logistics, offering me suggestions. “Would you like me to bring in a tray of coffee, tea, and croissants?”
Our firm owns a cafeteria and all the fancy drinks and foods are always at our disposal. “Drinks, yes. Food, no. No reason to make them overly comfortable that they won’t leave.”
Caroline exits the room and shuts the door. I’ve had significant profile cases before. It’s how I have my name on the front of the building at only thirty years old, but this is a little different. In each case, I’d been optimistic I’d win. This is iffy, at best. De Santos’s reputation alone is why I’m considering it. Then again, everyone thought Ted Bundy was good-looking and harmless. Maybe this Mr. De Santos is the same, harmless on the surface, but the Ted Bundy of environmentalists.
I shift my attention from the documents I’m reviewing when Caroline pops her head in. I see everyone behind her through the glass enclosure that gives me a line of sight into the hallway.
“The legal counsel from De Santos Inc. is here.”
“Thanks, Caroline, send them in.”
I wait for the illustrious Mr. De Santos, who has stayed out of the public eye of scrutiny until now. But very little is known about De Santos, other than he was born with a silver spoon and uses his money for a good cause. Who knew the ultra-wealthy could be a tree hugger like myself?
Four men and two women enter the room immaculately dressed in black. The men’s suits are tailored to fit like a glove, and the women’s hug their curves. Great, I’m dealing with an ultra-fancy tree hugger.
I push from my seat and point to the sectional and love seat, bringing around my desk chair and facing it toward the group.
“Mr. De Santos?” I ask, scanning the men in the room.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Atkins, Mr. De Santos will join us toward the end of the meeting. His flight from the west coast has just landed. But he promised he’ll be here.”
Well, fuck. I want to speak with him and him alone, first and foremost.
“I’m sorry, I must not have been clear. Mr. De Santos has a controlling interest, and as you know, I won’t represent a person I fear is guilty.”
“Yes, ma’am, but until he’s able to join us, we’ve brought all our expert discovery, and we’d like to go over it with you.”
“I’m an expert in environmental law. I’ve done my due diligence, and I expect that when I set an appointment, they show up. My salary isn’t free, and neither is my time.”
I’m positive that if I were a man, I’d come across as assertive. But as a woman, they most likely see me as a bitch.
His lead counsel, I know as Harry Lane, stands, buttoning his coat. “I’m sorry for the delay, Ms. Atkins; I genuinely am. Mr. De Santos asked if we could review your questions until he arrives.”
Caroline, natural Switzerland to my say-it-as-it-is brashness, interrupts. “While you wait, can I get you some tea or coffee?”
Her tight smile calms my nerves for a split second as Mr. Lane grabs a drink Caroline has made.
A text comes through, and he turns his attention to me. “Mr. De Santos is on his way, Ms. Atkins. My apologies again.” He takes his hot drink and sits down, the tension in the room rising. Is it because I’ve not been easy since the moment they entered my office, or because their boss is on his way? I assume by the way everyone fidgets, it’s the latter.
“He’s here,” one of the younger-looking executives whispers, but loud enough that I can hear him. Everyone stands as the mysterious CEO’s long strides are seen through the bottom part of the glass. There’s no knock, and the door opens. I haven’t stood yet, and I don’t plan to. The man has wasted my time, and I’ll be billing him for it.
“Mr. De Santos.” A woman from the middle of the group flits to him. “Can I grab your coat and briefcase?”
The man, whom I’ve not turned my attention to, doesn’t answer at first but clears his throat. “Give us the room, please.”
I half listen as I reply to an email on my phone from one of the partners.
“Sir?” Harry asks, still standing.
I’ll have to set the record straight, and what the terms of our relationship will entail. Judging by the way his employees jumped the second he walked into my office, I assume he must demand a lot from them.
“You heard me, I said everyone, clear the fucking room.”
His harsh words both pique my attention and piss me the hell off. I push to my feet, ready to speak with the man whose voice now seems faintly familiar. When my eyes lock on him, I’m transported back to the weekend and to the man who commanded me, as if I was the orchestra and he was the conductor. Images of the best sex I’ve ever had play in my head. Standing in front of me is Luciano De Santos, the man from this weekendandmy new client.
CHAPTERTWO
Idon’t knock. Why would I? I own the company that will be shelling out a pretty fucking penny for this expert. My personal lawyer, Penn Coultier, is a partner in this firm. He had assured me she’s the best.
