Page 43 of The Lawyer
“Look, I’m hungry, and you really don’t want to be on the wrong side of me when that happens so …” I wave my hand at her, attempting to pull her in my direction without touching her for the world to see. “After you.”
She grins a little and walks closer, keeping a professional distance as we walk towards one of the bistros near Chancery Lane. No talking on the way, no looking at each other either. We simply weave through the end of day corporate suits as they all make their way home. It’s nice, in some ways, and reminds me of years gone by when I was training. We’d all walk here together from King's College, perhaps talking the day through after the courts, even laughing sometimes. None of them wore heels like hers, though. And not one of them felt as familiar as she is becoming.
I glance at her, unsure what that sensation is. It's not familiar because of our everyday routines. More a reminiscence of something, as if she's part of a memory. None of that makes any logical sense to me, and on finally reaching Maxwell’s, I open the door for her and nod towards the waiter as he welcomes us in. No less than a minute later and we’re seated at a small, private table of my choice in the window, both looking at menus.
“This is nice,” she says. “Not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Something stuffy, like The Bombay.”
I look through the options available, considering the word stuffy. “I spent a lot of time here in law school. Before I was quite so suffocating. You're in a room full of lawyers.”
The waiter comes over and I wait for Willow to order before choosing a wine to match and my own food. She shrugs out of her jacket and leans back the moment the wine actually arrives on the table, crossing those undeniably attractive legs of hers. “I didn’t mean you were stuffy, Landon.”
“Yes, you did. Admit it.”
“Well, maybe a little. You could try laughing more.”
My brow arches as I pour the wine. “What do you think I have to laugh about? Look around you. Lawyers don't laugh.”
She sighs at that and takes the wine I’ve poured for her out of my hand, glancing at every other person in here. “Rather dull, but what would I know. What’s the deal with Ash?”
“The evidence is enough that he’ll go to court, I would think. Perhaps. Unless I can trade in some favours from judges. Are you worth trading favours for?”
“Favours?”
“Mmm.” I take a sip of my wine and tug the tie at my neck, flicking the top button. “Luckily for you, I happen to have a great deal of sway in the courts. Which I might be prepared to use. He’s been a pretty delinquent young man, Willow. Your mothering has not worked.”
She looks irritated. “I’m not his mother.”
“Quite. But you are responsible for him, yes?” She looks contrite at that at least, a sigh of exasperation coming out of her. “Don’t blame yourself entirely. Try having three of them to deal with. Siblings are annoying little shits most of the time."
A small smile lifts her lips, and she takes a drink, before sighing again. “I don’t know what to do with him. I don’t even know what he’s done. He won’t speak to me about it.”
“Which means I can’t either, but you should know he’s made an extremely poor choice in friends, and because of that, he’s neck-deep in the wrong side of legalities.”
“You can’t tell me what he’s done?”
“Not unless he allows me to. I am, in fact, his lawyer. At your request, I might add. Client confidentiality is a thing.”
“A thing? What type of language is that?”
“It’s the kind of language I use when I’m hungry.” I glare over at the kitchen, wondering if they’re going to get on with what I’m paying them for at any point in the near future. “Where the fuck is the food?”
“Perhaps if you tried eating at lunch you might not turn into an arsehole?”
My head swings back to her. “Did you just call me an arsehole?”
She grins, lifts her glass to her lips again. “I think I did. Problem?”
A snort breaks out of me. “And what, pray tell, have I done to offend you this week?”
“Plenty of things. None of which I’m actually prepared to discuss with my boss. Especially when he’s being so kind with regard to my brother.” Another sigh and she drains her glass of wine, making me refill it for her. “Okay, how much is it going to cost me then? More importantly, is he going to prison for it?”
“Not a chance. No one I defend goes to prison unless I want them there.” She beams and slumps back on her chair as if that one statement just relaxed her back to her normal brightness. “And don’t worry about the money. I’ll cover it.”
Another smile radiates through the beam, one that seems private and reserved for me alone. It makes the thought of food dissipate, and I raise my glass and drink as I stare at her looking at me. She truly is one of the most beautiful women I think I’ve ever seen, both professionally and with her legs spread for me. Soft features now she’s relaxed. Dark, auburn hair tucked neatly into position. I’d like to see it down, how long it is.
