Page 12 of Tempting Fate

3

LILY

“Ilove my job. I love my job. Killing clients is frowned upon,” I mutter under my breath as I stand with my boss and his PA, Veronica, to wave off the clients from hell as they finally enter the elevator. “And the conditioner in prison will dry out my ends.”

“We can hear you,” Gabriel murmurs in his elegant Philadelphian accent as the doors close and the floor indicators light up as proof the duo are out of earshot. “Just thought you should know that.”

I offer him a sideways glance to check if he’s mad at me. The bemused expression that greets me tells me he’s as wrung dry by the two men who’ve monopolised our entire afternoon with their childish civil suit as I am. He tugs the end of my curtain bangs as he says with a chuckle, “Your hair is safe, little Cherub. I’m going to steer them back in the direction of Magnum and Key.”

The grin we exchange at his mention of our closest rival is closer to a vicious smirk than anything filled with humour. We owe them for trying to pawn the indecisive father and son duo off on us in the first place. From the outset, their generosity was out of character. Having spent five hours going over the pair’s options, only to have them refuse to settle on a way to proceed, puts paid to their excuse about our services being a better fit for the two men. It’s clear they wanted to get rid of the annoying clients and thought it would be funny to point them toward us.

Apparently, they’ve forgotten how proficient Gabriel is at extracting payback when you upset him. I foresee more than a few irritations in their future. Knowing my boss, he’ll double the annual pro-bono time commitment he pledged on their behalf the last time they tried to one-up him. While Gabriel enjoys giving back to the less fortunate in WA, the partners at Magnum and Key aren’t as philanthropic.

My smile widens when I realise that Gabriel is already plotting.

The glee in his forest-green gaze is awe-inspiring… and a little scary.

“I must say I’m glad to see the back of them,” Veronica drawls in her inimitable way. “They’re going to be harder to wrangle into seeing sense than my little kitty is to get into her winter sweater.”

When she straightens the cat broach pinned to her blazer, I bite down on my bottom lip and do my best not to laugh. Outside of her job taking care of Gabriel and mothering the rest of the firm, there’s only one thing Veronica takes seriously.

Her cats. All seven of them.

As soon as Veronica is out of sight, Gabriel groans. “Do you know she slipped a note asking for a monthly ‘bring your pet to work day’ into the office suggestions box?”

“Of course, she did,” I exclaim with amusement. “If you weren’t such a disorganised mess, I swear she’d retire to spend all day with her darling kitties.”

The horror that invades my boss’ expression is comical. “No. Never. Roni’s not allowed to leave. Maybe I should give her suggestion a second thought.”

Still laughing, I follow him to the meeting room to grab my things.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I give Gabriel a little wave as I exit the room.

“Yes, yes,” he replies, vaguely flipping his hand in my direction as he jabs at his phone screen with obvious agitation. “Tomorrow.”

Although my back is sore from spending the afternoon bent over the younger client’s shoulder so I could point out the clearly labelled clauses he simply couldn’t see without my assistance, my shoulders shake with mirth as I make my way to the waiting area. Poor Gabriel is probably looking for his company insurance policy to ensure it covers bringing a menagerie of animals into the office once a month.

I wasn’t joking when I called him a disorganised mess.

His mind is brilliant. He can see legal loopholes no one else can. In the decades he’s lived in Australia, he’s expanded the single law firm he created as a twenty-eight-year-old into ten offices across the country. Although he is heavily involved in the Black Shamrocks MC, having sought sanctuary with the Australian faction of the club after he was forced to leave the US in the early nineties for reasons I’ve never been told, his unique personality meant that he never became more than an ancillary member.

Gabriel Abaddon may be a member of American Mensa, but ask the man why he’s wearing one brown shoe and one black, and he’ll have no idea what you’re talking about.

Hence his over-reliance on Veronica to keep the rest of his life—and his head—straight.

When I reach the waiting area, it’s empty.

I freeze, blinking slowly as I process my surprise.

Every evening, a biker has been waiting to escort me home.

It’s been that way for the entire two years I’ve worked here.

“Have any messages been left for Lilianna Mayberry?” I ask the temp receptionist with hope in my voice. She’s not our regular agency stand-in, so when she silently blinks up at me, I offer her more information. “From Zeke Miles or one of my brothers… maybe my cousin, Toke—er, I mean, Benedict Cherub?”

“Sorry, Anna,” the petite redhead replies after checking her screen. “There’s nothing for you.”

“No worries. Thank you for checking, though.”

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