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We stare at one another until Uncle Salvatore rolls his eyes. I don’t see him. I just know him. Uncle Massimo gathers the papers I left on the table.
“When do we start planning my defense, Ms. O’Malley?”
“You might be starting now. I’m already halfway done.”
I watch as she gathers her coat and bag. Both are practical but well made. They suit her. I’m not ready for her to leave.
“Do you think I did it?”
That makes all three of them freeze. Her gaze is unwavering.
“Does it matter? I’m not the jury.”
“Care to share how you’re keeping me off death row?”
“With a solid defense.” She glances at her watch. “I need to be in Foley Square next. I have another appointment. Good day, gentlemen.”
I glance at my uncles and cock any eyebrow. They smirk. Now it’s my turn to want to roll my eyes. They’re closer to the door. They chirp at the same time.
“Goodbye, Ms. O’Malley.”
She glances at them before turning her focus back to me. She’s confused about why they just walked out since she’s headed out, too. They can guess what’s going to happen, and as much as I’ve entertained them already, they have other things to do besides watching the ensuing battle of wills.
“Ms. O’Malley, how many high-profile clients have you represented? I don’t mean this to be snide at all. I’m asking for a reason, and it’s not about your ability to defend me.”
She’s taken aback by my softer tone. It’s not patronizing. At least, I hope not. I stand, glad my trousers hide what she does to me, then I walk to her end of the table. She meets me in the middle.
“Several.”
“Were any of them accused of what I am?”
“I’ve handled several murder cases.”
“High-profile murder cases?”
I’ve never heard of her or seen her on the news.
“You think I haven’t had cases like yours because you haven’t heard of me or seen me on the news.”
“I hope your mind reading skills work as well with the jurors as they do me.”
I crack my first smile, and I see it. That tiny flash of interest. The one I was sure was there before she forced it out of her expression. This is the most inopportune time to want a woman. Pursuing anything would be a monumental conflict of interest. I step a little closer. She’s tall, probably five-feet-nine. But I’m six-feet-four. I also weigh two-hundred-and-forty pounds with nine percent body fat. I’m large, lean, and usually intimidating. I don’t want that right now. Not when I tower over her and must weigh eighty pounds more than her.
“I understand you’re testing me, Mr. Scotto. I won’t hold that against you given the circumstances.”
“Gabriele, please.”
“Sinead.”
She concedes begrudgingly.
“I’m not testing you now. When my uncles approached you, did you know it was to represent me?”
“Uncles?”
“Sorta. Our family tree is complicated. You’ll need to understand it, but not today. Did you know who you were going to defend?”
“I knew it was someone in your organization who has a senior position. I got the impression my client was part of Mr. Mancinelli’s family. Both Mr. Mancinellis.”
