Page 57 of Iron Blade

“But it would be enforceable, somehow, right? In the event of a divorce?”

“It probably could be. I would never ever allow anyone I know, client, or otherwise, to sign this agreement.” She leaned back and brought her rosé to her lips. “But if you’re the poorer party, then… have at it. There’s no downside to you.”

She lifted her brow.

I rolled my eyes.

Of course, she’d know it was about me, even though I had diligently blacked out any identifying information. After all, why the hell else would I care, right? Why would I bother getting a second opinion?

She was a lawyer in her own right. As a lawyer, she also had lawyers. And lawyers upon lawyers beyond that. She’d know.

“Care to tell me who the guy is?”

Nope. I sure don’t.

“It’s nothing. I probably wouldn’t sign it anyway. It’s just… he’s a bit crazy.”

“Come on, you can tell me.” She poked her pink-colored nail against my forearm, a small smile curling over her lip. “He must be in love with you if he’s willing to sign this abomination. So… who's the lucky guy? I hope he's rich.”

Richer than Croesus, I thought with a small laugh, remembering the first time he’d appeared in my office. It felt insane to think about now. That whole interaction felt like such a long time ago, even though all of this had escalated in a matter of days.

Then again, they say if you know, you know. And I knew. More importantly, I knew that he knew. He was determined and devoted.

“It's…” I didn’t want to say it, though. Not to Cosima. Not after dinner with that pervy godfather of hers.

Then again, shouldn’t I be able to tell her, if I did end up going along with it? A marriage was public, after all.

Plus, she was my friend. Right? She had bargained with Eoghan for my life when she thought I was in danger. What harm could it do, to just let her know what was going on?

It was Eoghan’s fault anyway. He waltzed into my life and made me feel important. He made me long for a companionship I hadn’t had in over five years - not since my father’s death.

“It’s Eoghan Green.”

I blurted it out fast, before I lost my nerve. The aftermath was like a record scratch, suddenly silencing everything around.

Cosima dropped her wine glass, the contents of it spilling across the thick, white linen tablecloth, spilling down to the floor in a loud drip-drip-drip.

“You’re insane.” Her eyes were so wide, I swear I could see the whites all around them.

She looked terrified, like I told her I was marrying the devil himself. And maybe in her world, that’s exactly what I was doing.

A waiter came over and dabbed at the spill. Cosima didn’t even notice him. She just kept staring at me like I had grown a dick out of my forehead.

When the waiter walked away, damp rags in hand, offering to give her another glass, she leaned forward.

Through her clenched teeth, she snarled, “Do you know what that man is capable of?”

“What are you talking about?”

Tell me what I need to know, Cosima.

I leaned forward, wanting to get all the information I needed. All the bits of intelligence she was keeping behind her high walls.

What was with the paranoia with Cosima and that strange godfather of hers? Why were they accusing him of being completely despicable? It was the pot calling the kettle black.

There was not a single thread of evidence that suggested that he was more culpable than the rest of them. His father, Alastair Green, was vicious. But so was the late head of the Russian Bratva. So was Cosima’s father, Eugenio Durante.

They watched one another in ruthlessness, bit by bit, escalating until they pulled back, and enjoyed a cold war, of sorts. Then tensions would flare again, and the violent cycle would re-start, then cool. Over and over again, it happened. So why was Eoghan so different from the rest? What couldn’t we find in the rap sheets, and rumors?

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