Page 4 of To Catch A Rook

An awkward throat clearing and a shuffling of papers proceeded the thin, reedy little man’s reply.

“Well, ah, Miss Lane”—another throat clearing—“Charles and the Rodriguez family seem to have a few—ahem—issueswith several items in our current agreement, and requested the opportunity to present their concerns in person.”

I slowly swung my head around the table to look each person in the eye. “Oh? How odd. I was under the impression that the terms of the contract were agreed to in full and that the Rodriguezheirwas the person of authority to sign on behalf of VVR & Company.”

I turned a stony face to the man himself. Aaron and I had run in the same elite circles since we were children. If I hadn’t already been betrothed in a fucked up modern-day version of an arranged marriage with Logan Eccles, who, funnily enough, was now one of my best friend’s husbands, Aaron and I might have been the ones slated to get married.

He was a few years older than me at 35; tall, dark, and handsome, his skin was deeply tanned and his chestnut hair, wavy and chin length, was slicked back and tucked behind his ears. Rich brown eyes with long Latin lashes, full pink lips and high cheekbones made him pretty to look at, but his cold and detached demeanor made him truly captivating.

He was a man on a pedestal; untouchable and uninterested—but not for me. His careful control shattered when I tied him up, begging me to unleash every depraved fantasy on his beautiful body.

And he was a patsy and a puppet for his power-hungry parents—a scenario I was also used to. My own father had narrowly avoided prison for his power-hungry, money-grubbing schemes. Veronica and Vincente were no different—they just hadn’t gotten caught yet. I’d made it very clear in our contract proceedings I would in no way work with his parents—it was Aaron and his board, or nothing. Apparently, this was their sneaky work-around.

Charles finally grew some testicles to speak. “Miss Lane, as you are aware, Veronica and Vincente, theoriginalRodriguez founders, are stepping down in order for Aaron to take the helm of the company. Aaron has listened to their reservations about the terms of this agreement and they’ve come to me collectively for counsel. I reached out to Frederick to highlight a few of their concerns.”

“Oh?” I repeated, catching my family’s oldest employee’s eye in question. We would discuss that later—Frederick might be out of a job, after all.

“Let me make this clear for everyone here, so that I do not need to repeat myself.” A shark-like sneer spread across my lips as my gaze trailed around the deathly quiet booth.

“The terms are the terms. They were already agreed to, and I do not take reneging on an agreement lightly. You either move forward, or you don’t. I am not negotiating with you.”

My gaze settled on Aaron’s stony face; I matched his stare with my own. “Andyou”—I tilted my head with a condescending smirk—“I can’t continue to see aman who still needs his mommy’s permission to play. Call me when your balls have dropped.”

His cold fury washed over me from across the table, but as usual, he remained mute. I slid out of the supple blue velvet and stood tall in my five-inch heels, straightening my pencil skirt as if this were just a friendly chat.

“Lovely to see you this evening.” I smiled sweetly and wiggled my fingers in a wave. “Frederick, meet me in my office at ten tomorrow, or you’re fired.”

My heels clacked against the lacquered floor once again, but this time, the sound was triumphant. I searched the bar for Lucky for a tasty little celebration fuck, but he was nowhere to be found. I would have to find another way to burn off this exhilaration.

Hello Mr. Rabbit, my old friend.

“Frederick.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose in barely veiled exasperation as the dignified man sweated a damp patch through his stiff suit onto my chenille seat cushion.

“Ms. Lane.” The shrinking man sputtered slightly, but he managed to maintain his composure while he attempted to grovel his way out of his predicament.

Frederick Lawson had been the Lane family lawyer since long before I was born. By his age and the substantial size of his bank account alone, he could be considered a Lane family heirloom.

Buthe often forgot he wasn’t Daddy’s legal counsel anymore—he was mine. And I didn’t work backroom deals and scheme with renowned mafia kings in the same ways Daddy did.

Well, not to the same degree, anyway.

“Ms. Lane.” Frederick cleared his throat and stiffened his spine in his seat, making him appear an inch taller and ten times ballsier. “I apologize for the lack of communication on my part. The Rodriguez family asked for legal counsel with Charles, and Charles requested I be present to appropriately respond with the—” He faltered, likely realizing he was coming close to insulting me.

“It was very last minute, and I didn’t see it prudent to waste your time with another round of inane questions. Charles Beckwith is, quite frankly, an imbecile.”

He caught my eye and sniffed, employing the dignified air of a man who thought himself to be far less of an imbecile, but they were one and the same at this moment.

Despite his error in judgment, I believed him. Frederick was the biggest stickler for the written word of law I had ever encountered; so much so, he stood by me and defended my legal right to keep my grandmother’s inheritance without giving my father one penny of it, despite my having been groomed to be Daddy’s bottomless bank account. He even dissolved the archaic arranged marriage Daddy and his friend had orchestrated, so I could move on with my life.

He wasn’t a friend—I didn’t even like the man, but he was a formidable ally.

I folded my arms across my silk blouse and leaned back against my desk, my delicate stature hovering above him. “Who requested the meeting? Was Aaron involved, or simply invited?”

Frederick shifted his weight nervously in his chair, but his gaze never wavered. “In truth, Ms. Lane, Mr. Rodriguez appeared very uncomfortable about being present. I can’t speakto who invited whom. Charles”—he curled his lip in a sneer of distaste—“was my only contact with arranging the meeting. At abar, no less.”

I drew in a deep, cleansing breath, and dipped my head in decision. “Okay. I believe you. But Frederick, no meetings, no phone calls, no discussions of any kind with the Rodriguez family without me.”

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