As we waited for the elevator to arrive, I ran a hand over my dress, chastising myself for checking if this random stranger had a wedding band (he did not). I had bigger fish to fry. Mainly, the fact I was going into Dad’s first—and hopefully last—mediation meeting regarding his sexual harassment case.
Sexual harassment! What a joke. Dad was hot tempered, but he would never hurt a woman. He was merciless at his job, no doubt about it, but he wasn’t a sleazy Harvey Weinstein type. The kind of man to slip a hand under a woman’s skirt or ogle her cleavage. I’d been around the corporate block and could recognize predators before they opened their mouths to take a bite. Dad didn’t tick any of the corrupt-boss boxes. He wasn’t overly nice, never tried to charm his way in and out of social circles, and kept his hands to himself. His female employees adored him openly, oftentimes praising him for his devotion to me. He was his secretary’s son’s godfather, for crying out loud.
Hot Stranger and I both watched the red numbers on the screen above the elevator descending. I tapped my foot.
Twenty-two . . . twenty-one . . . twenty . . .
Was this man really the receptionist’s boss? That would make him the building manager, if not owner. He looked young. Early to midthirties. But seasoned too. With the flippant, tranquil air of someone who knew what he was doing. Old money opened doors to new opportunities; I was the first person to admit that. Just to be on the safe side, I decided to ask if he had anything to do with Cromwell & Traurig.
“Are you a partner at the firm?” There was no way Amanda had hired an associate.
His slightly crooked smirk widened half an inch. “No.”
I let out a relieved sigh. “Good.”
“Why?”
“I hate lawyers.”
“Me too.” His eyes flickered to his Patek Philippe watch.
Silence descended over us. He didn’t feel like a stranger. Not exactly. Standing next to him, I could swear my body recognized his.
“Terrible weather,” I commented. The rain hadn’t stopped for three days straight.
“I think it was Steinbeck who said the climate in New York is a scandal. New to the city?” His tone was airy yet undistinguishable. My instincts told me to watch out. My ovaries told them to shut up.
“Hardly.” I patted the chignon at the nape of my neck for stray flyaways. “You’d think I’d get used to it after so many years. You’d be wrong.”
“Ever thought of moving?”
I shook my head. “My parents and business are here.” And so was Aaron. I still visited him more often than I liked to admit. “What about you?”
“Lived here on and off my entire life.”
“Final verdict?”
“New York is like a fickle lover. You know you deserve better. Doesn’t stop you from sticking around.”
“You can always leave,” I pointed out.
“I could.” He adjusted his maroon tie. “But I’m not a fan of quitting.”
“Me either.”
The elevator pinged open. He stepped aside, motioning for me to get in first. I did. He swiped an electronic key over a pad and pressed the thirty-third button. We both stared at the chrome doors, our reflection twinkling back at us.
“Here for a consultation?” he asked. I had a feeling I was getting his undivided attention, but I also knew he was not flirting with me.
“Not exactly.” I examined my hot-red nails. “I’m here in the capacity of a PR consultant.”
“What fire are you extinguishing today?”
“A blazing building. Sexual harassment settlement.”
He tucked his phone back in his pocket, unbuttoning his peacoat. “Know what they say about big blazes.”
“Takes big hoses to get them under control?” I curved an eyebrow.
His smirk widened. My thighs informed me they were sold on this man and had no qualms about running off with him to Paris. I usually chose my lovers with the same pragmatism I chose my clothes in the morning and always went for the average-looking, gallant type. The ones low on drama. But this guy? He looked like a pi?ata full of crazy ex-girlfriends, rich-boy fetishes, and mommy issues.
“Sharp tongue.” He gave me a once-over.
“You should see my claws.” I batted my eyelashes. “It’s going to be swift and painless.”
The man turned around and looked at me. His teal eyes turned glacial, like a frosted-over lake. There was something in them. Something I recognized in myself too. Stubbornness born from bitter disappointment with the world.
“Is that so?”
I stood a little straighter. “I’m not going to let it turn into a media circus. There’s too much on the line.”
There was no way Amanda Gispen truly thought she had a case. She was obviously after Dad’s money. We were going to send her away with a hefty check and ironclad NDA and pretend it had never happened. It wasn’t Dad’s fault he’d hired someone who’d chosen to go this route when he’d fired her. Now it was all about minimizing the publicity this case was going to get. Luckily, Gispen’s lawyer, this Christian Miller guy, hadn’t brought any attention to the lawsuit. Yet. A calculated move on his part, no doubt.
“I’m sorry.” His smile turned from pleasant to downright chilling. This was when I realized his teeth were pointy. That the bottom front two were overlapping. A small imperfection that highlighted his otherwise-ravishing features. “I don’t believe I caught your name.”
“Arya Roth.” I turned to him, the pressure against my sternum becoming more prominent. My body tingled with danger. “And you?”
“Christian Miller.” He took my hand in his, giving it a confident squeeze. “Lovely to make acquaintances with you, Ms. Roth.”
My breath was knocked out of my lungs. I recognized a disaster when I saw one, and looking at Christian’s shrewd smirk, I knew for a fact I’d been played. Only one of us was surprised by the revelation of our identities, and that someone was me. He’d already had the upper hand when he’d walked into the reception area ten minutes ago. And I’d foolishly—unbelievably—played into his hands. Shown him my cards.
“The receptionist called you her boss.” Thankfully, my voice was still flat. Unfazed.
“Sandy’s fond of nicknames. Adorable, right?”
“You said you weren’t a partner,” I insisted.
He shrugged, as if to say, What can you do?
“Did you lie?” I pushed.
“Why, that wouldn’t be very sporting. I’m a senior associate.”