Page 33 of The Holy Grail
Malcom invited her to sit on one of the three barstools at the island, two of which had been set with place settings, to include neatly folded, charcoal-gray cloth napkins flanked by a salad fork, dinner fork, and steak knife. He then offered her some wine, which she accepted, and poured them both a glass.
“To … better late than never,” he toasted, gently clinking his glass against hers.
“Don’t you think it’s a little soon for ghosting references?” she asked blandly. When he continued to just look at her with complete innocence, Jules returned the glass tap with amusement. “Fine. To better late than never.”
“Well, I would have toasted to your birthday, but that’s apparently forbidden.”
She watched as he rolled up his shirt sleeves and then washed his hands, her eyes appreciating his long fingers (one of her favorite features in a man) before taking things out of the massive fridge and starting to put together what looked like chicken cordonbleu. While he worked, he asked her some typical get-to-know-you questions, starting with enquiring about her job.
She gave him the same rundown she’d given Evan several weeks before, and was amused when Malcom’s surprised response was almost identical to Evan’s.
“What did you picture my job being?” she asked, checking out his ass in his new jeans when he slid the chicken into one of his double ovens. For someone who apparently didn’t do a lot of shopping, he’d found a pair of jeans that looked really good on him.
Turning around, he paused before answering. “I’m not sure, but something where you were dominating a bunch of men in a boardroom meeting. Maybe firing a few of them for good measure.”
Jules laughed out loud at his vision. “Are you picturing me wearing leather and holding a whip in this scenario?”
His eyebrows rose a fraction. “I wasn’t, but … now I am.”
She took a drink of her wine and turned the question on him, altering it slightly since she already knew what he did for a living. “So, tell me about your job as a lawyer. I’m sure it’s fascinating.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“I don’t, but I still want to hear all about it.”
“Well, I don’t really enjoy my job, to be honest,” he replied, as be began to cut up vegetables for a salad.
In awe, she watched for several moments as he wielded the knife like Gordon Ramsay, and looked incredibly hot as he did so, before responding. “Why not?” she asked, because while she didn’t think being a lawyer would be enjoyable, it did take her by surprise thathedidn’t, given the amount of time he’d obviously invested in becoming one.
“Mainly because I’m not very good at it—”
“You’re not very good at it?”
“No.”
“Are you being modest right now?”
He choked out a laugh. “No, I’m not being modest. I’m really not a good lawyer.”
“So, why be one?”
He continued chopping vegetables with his massive knife, not missing a slice, his hands quick and assured. “It’s sort of the family business, so I didn’t really have a choice. It was drilled into me at a very young age that I would follow in the footsteps of my older brother,who was following in the footsteps of our father ... who followed in the footsteps ofhisfather.”
Jules sipped at her wine, thinking that sounded awful.
“I did rebel a bit, though,” Malcom continued, stopping to take a drink of his own wine. “I didn’t go into trial law, which is tantamount to blasphemy, and also chose to work for another firm.”
“Another firm?”
“Other than the family law firm.”
“You have a family law firm?” Her eyebrows rose. “Oh … wait. Hodge Law & Associates?”
“That’s the one.”
“They’ve handled some high-profile defense cases, right?”
“Yes. That’s where the money is.”
