Page 6 of My Bossy Billionaire Attorney

“Are you confident that you can win this, Julius?” I ask, looking away from Savannah.

Julius nods.

“Yes. I asked Miss Richmond to assist me on the case. She’s the best researcher we have, so I’m sure we’ll be able to access records the other attorneys couldn’t.”

I typically don’t take pro bono cases because they often drag out for years at a great expense to the firm—but I can see the look on Savannah’s face from my peripheral vision.

“Alright. Let Brenda know how I can help so she can carve out some time in my calendar.”

He lowers his head. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”

I wave my hand. “It’s fine. It’s good publicity anyway. You win the case, and we get more clients. Just,” I smile, “make sure you win.”

He pumps a fist.

“Definitely. I have Miss Richmond, so we will. No matter what it takes.”

“Alright then. I have another meeting, so I’ll expect a briefing in a couple of days,” I say, standing up.

Julius gets up, and after a few seconds, Savannah joins him.

“Thank you, sir,” she says, which surprises me. “We didn’t think you’d want to be involved in a case like this, with you being so busy and all.”

Is there a hidden message in her words?

I shake the thought out of my head before it expands. I shouldn’t spend my time analyzing the look on her face or the meaning behind her words. Savannah Richmond works for me, and she is known for doing a good job.

That’s all that matters.

She’s burrowed under my skin is one that I will have to fill. As quickly as possible. If I’m to avoid a repeat of what happened inmy office two days ago. Savannah Richmond is a loose end that needs to be tied up.

“Great job,” I say before leaving the conference room.

However, I cannot resist the urge to turn around and look through the glass wall to get one last glimpse of her.

Chapter 3

Savannah

Saint, my ass.

Everyone seems to see Michael Stone as the perfect boss. The lawyer who became a senior partner at the age of thirty. Helping to quickly grow it into a multi-million-dollar firm.

They fall for his looks, his charisma—his billion-dollar smile. Even his arrogance is charming.

Whereas I—who has seen the other side—I know the truth. I know that Michael Stone is cold and unfeeling and probably has a lot of skeletons in his walk-in closet, surrounded by his thousand-dollar suits.

I shake my head.

“Arrogant, egoistical—” I say under my breath, “phony. Hypocritical.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, cutting through my thoughts and responding to Clarissa, another paralegal who I share a large office space with.

“Are you sure?” She repeats. “You’ve been muttering under your breath since you walked in, and the look on your face is a bit scary. Did something happen with one of the lawyers?”

“Maybe with Julius? I know he doesn’t know how to read the room sometimes, but he’s a good guy underneath it all—" she continues.

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