Page 19 of Dirty Rich Cinderella Story

“I assumed from this place we’re in right now,” I say. “And I assume that means you’re worth it.”

“Yes,” he says. “I am. Are you going to call me arrogant again?”

“Have you won the cases to back it up?

“Yes,” he says again. “I have.”

“Then it’s fact, not arrogance.”

“And you?” he asks. “How good are you, Lori?”

He’s hit that nerve I’ve been avoiding and I cut my gaze, reaching for the wine and downing a big swallow. “I really don’t want to talk about my career.”

“You lost a case,” he assumes. “Is that what brought you here tonight? You can talk to me about it. I get it. I know this world. I’m a good choice.”

“Tonight isn’t about my career,” I say, but isn’t it? Haven’t I just lied without meaning to lie? What is tonight really about for me?

“What are you trying to escape tonight?” he presses, as if reading my mind.

I down my wine and look at him. “Am I on trial, counselor?”

“If you’re never going to see me again, keep using me. Sex isn’t all I’m good for.”

“We weren’t supposed to get this personal.”

“I don’t even know your last name,” he says. “You don’t know mine. Let’s call it therapy. Quid pro quo. I’ll even go first.” He shoves his plate away. “Ask me anything.”

“I don’t want to play this game,” I say.

“Ask me anything,” he insists.

“How many women have been in this room?”

“None, not with me. My turn. How many one night stands have you had?”

“I already answered that,” I say. “None. Ever. Just you.”

“Why me?” he asks.

“No one else ever made me think I wanted to,” I say honestly, without hesitation. “My turn. Who burned you?”

His eyes narrow. “Who says I was burned?”

“You hate cheaters.”

“Good observation and accurate. My father fucked around on my mother and pretty much ruined her. I was engaged when I was right out of law school and she fucked my best friend. Now they’re married with three kids.”

I sink back onto the cushion, and pull my legs to my side, wondering if I dare ask what I want to ask. He leans into the cushion as well. “What do you want to know?” he asks.

I decide to dare. “Did you love her?”

“No,” he says easily. “I knew that even then, and so did she, but fucking around with my best friend—that was the wrong way to handle it.” He studies me a moment. “Your turn. Who burned you?”

“In the romance department? Me. For being stupid and probably young and infatuated.”

“An older man?”

“Yes,” I say. “And semi-famous, arrogant, and generally wrong for me, but I’m not heartbroken. I wasn’t in love either.” The muffled sound of my cell phone pings a text message. “My phone,” I say straightening. “I need my phone.” I jolt to my feet and round the coffee table to grab my bag, only to run smack into Cole, who’s apparently attempting to retrieve it for me. He catches my arms and gives me a mischievous look. “Always running into me.”

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