The Laws of Seduction: A French Kiss Novel

by Jones, Gwen

  She swallowed hard, leveling her gaze. “Five hundred thousand.”

  If she was waiting for his jaw to drop he didn’t even blink. “All right.”

  So neither would she. “Then sign right here.” She tapped the spot one more time. “And we’ll get this ball rolling.”

  “To where?” he said, still unmoved.

  “Come on, they’ll be calling us in any second.” Tap, tap.

  “I’m not doing anything until I find out what’s going to happen.”

  “Seeing as I’m not the judge,” she said evenly, “I can’t predict how he or she will react, but you have two strikes against you already—privilege and being a French citizen. And if the judge is a woman?” She shrugged, and not without smug satisfaction. “You could be screwed from the start.”

  He laughed. “So much for blind justice.”

  “Yeah, well, if we were in Paris, how much would my being American help me?”

  “If we were in Paris, this farce wouldn’t be happening.”

  “Anyway, the consulate has agreed to be responsible for you. So more than likely the judge will order you to stay there until the preliminary hearing, which could be anywhere from three to ten business days from now.”

  “And what’s the purpose of that?”

  “To show if a crime has been committed and whether or not you’re the likely offender. The evidence against you will be presented either by the detective on the case or the assistant district attorney. If there’s enough, the case moves forward.”

  “They’ll get a statement from the girl, then.”

  “They already have.”

  “Did you see it?”

  “Yes.” How much should she tell him? He berated her for taking pro bono cases, and here he was, demanding the same. “Take what you told me and reverse it. Basically that you lured her into the next room and then assaulted her.”

  She could see his jaw clench. “Have you spoken with her?” he said quietly.

  “That’s not the way it works. I have access to whatever statements she gives to the police, but outside of that, I’ll have to wait until I could cross-examine her in court. I hear she’s gone into hiding anyway. At least she’s not at her parents’ home in the city.”

  He obviously wasn’t pleased with that information, but there was nothing she could do about it. “So what happens if they can’t find enough evidence to substantiate her statement?”

  “Then you’ll be free to go.”

  “Hm.” He fell silent, looking askance, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Charlotte leaned against the wall, exhausted. She last slept in days not hours ago, and the only thing she really wanted was to get this morning over with so she could drop atop her pillow. So unlike Rex, who looked miraculously revived, always seeming precision-cut out of marble. Her gaze drifted to the slope of his jaw, his wholly sensuous mouth. She idly wondered how many women that mouth had kissed, how many times it’d scorched down fevered . . . Jesus. She stopped herself, pinching her eyes shut. Where the hell did that come from? From wherever it did it had to stop. He was a client, at least he was probably going to be, and that was it. No matter how attracted to him she was—and there was no denying she was—she’d learned long ago men like Rex were bastards to the core and good for only one thing—turning a good woman bad.

  “ . . . other options, don’t you think?”

  She looked up. “What?”

  His mouth crooked, even more sensuously. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

  “Sure I was.” Focus.

  “I said”—he enunciated the word—“what are my options?”

  “Options?” She was mystified. “There aren’t any. Either there’ll be enough evidence to move the case forward or not. This part really isn’t all that complicated.”

  “No, I mean about my release. I don’t want to stay at the consulate.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think they’ll care what you want. Unless you have family here, or another party who has established ties to the community and is willing to take responsibility for you, I don’t see where you’ll have a choice.”

  Rex eyed her dubiously. “There’s always a choice.”

  “Like the one you’ve given me?” She laughed again. “You’ve practically held a gun to my head.”

  “You could walk away.”

  “I could. I should. Especially since I suspect there’s a lot you’re not telling me. You can’t hold out on me if you expect me to form a rational defense.”

  “I never said I was and besides, I won’t need a defense when they see there’s no crime. I didn’t assault that girl, and that’ll become evident enough very soon. The only thing you have to concentrate on is getting me out of here.”

  All at once the reality of what she was doing descended on her. “And then what? After I’ve compromised my reputation by working with you, how do I redeem myself?”

  “By proving those fuckers wrong,” he said. All at once he grasped her by the shoulders. “And you start by trusting me. Can you do that?”

  “How could I? I hardly know you at all.” Then right there and that suddenly, she found she wanted to, to really know him, to really understand him. And why was that? It was those eyes. Damn him! She couldn’t think with those inky eyes so focused on hers. She could drown in them, in fact it seemed she was, all reason swirling down the drain.

  “Why should I?” she finally said. “All you probably want me to do is manipulate the facts anyway, truth be damned. Isn’t that what a good defense attorney does? Twist the truth until it suits the purpose?” She shoved him away, all professionalism going out the window. “Then you’d better cough some up, monsieur. Why did she start screaming?”

  “I told you—to set me up.”

  “For what? Why would she be out to get you?” She shoved him again. “Tell me!”

  “I don’t know!” he hissed, reeling on her until her back was against the wall. “Get me out of here so I can find out. If you do I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “Yeah?” She stared at him. “How much?” She honestly wanted to know. Didn’t she already push him over the edge with her retainer?

  “Two million,” he said. “One for your firm, and another as an endowment for Occupy Vagina.”

  “Two million?” She stared at him, speechless. There was only one reason he’d offer her something so outrageous. “Jesus, you really must be guilty.”

  His gaze dropped, fixing on her mouth. “That’s the last thing I’d like you to think of me. For now I only need you to trust me.”

  The deputy opened the door. “Time to go in,” she said, smiling at Rex.

  He nodded. “Merci. Nous arrivons.” He looked to Charlotte, adjusting his open collar. “Shall we?”

  “Oh no.” She tapped the iPad. “Not before I get this is writing.”

  “And I will. After.” Then he took her arm, leading her into the courtroom.

  “ALL RISE.”

  A female judge. Rex rose as she took her place behind the bench. Good.

  Charlotte leaned in, whispering, “You’re fucked.”

  He whispered back, “Then at least let me enjoy it.”

  She stared at him, blushing furiously.

  Rex smiled to himself. He was starting to enjoy doing that.

  “ . . . the Honorable Sophia K. Jennings, in and for the County of Philadelphia and the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. Please be seated.”

  As he did he looked over his shoulder. For so early in the morning the courtroom was packed, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there were a few spectators who looked way too comfortable.

  “Yes, you’re right,” Charlotte whispered.

  He peered at her. “About what?”

  “Those are members of the press back there.”

  “Surely not for me.”<
br />
  “Eventually, yeah, they will be. They’re looking for a story, and when they find out who you are and what you’re here for, they’ll get one.”

  He sighed. “Just what I need.”

  “And just what I don’t,” she said, scribbling something on a legal pad. “Their story won’t only be about you, you know.”

  The judge looked up from her blotter. “Rex Renaud?”

  Rex and Charlotte stood. “We’re here, your honor,” Charlotte said.

  “Approach the bench.”

  “Don’t answer unless you absolutely have to,” Charlotte whispered as they made their way to the front.

  “That’s what I’m paying you for,” he said.

  “Or not,” she answered. They took their place at the bar.

  After a few moments the judge said, “Mr. Renaud?”

  “Yes, your honor?” As he gifted her with a deferential curve of his mouth, he could almost feel Charlotte groaning beside him.

  “You’re a foreign national, correct?”

  “Yes, your honor,” he answered. “Of France.”

  “In this country for business or pleasure?”

  “Business.”

  “And what is the nature of that business?”

  Charlotte answered instead. “My client is the chief operating officer of the international corporation Mercier Shipping, and is often in the U.S. for business. Mercier and its subsidiaries have a shipping presence at several major ports and on both coasts throughout the United States, including Philadelphia.”

  A small rumble went through the courtroom until the judge glanced up, immediately silencing it. “I’m aware of Mercier,” the judge said, looking askance. “Something about one of its captains chaining herself to the mast of her ship here last summer . . . ?”

  A few titters from the crowd. “Yes, your honor,” Charlotte said.

  Then just as quickly, the judge turned somber. “But there’s nothing quite as amusing about this incident, now is there, counselor?”

  Charlotte glanced to Rex with a you’re-so-screwed expression before answering. “No, your honor. Not at all.”

  She raised a brow. “And you of all people should know that, Ms. Andreko.”

  More rumbling as Rex watched Charlotte blanch. He almost reached for her hand.

  The judge ruffled a piece of paper, looking to Rex. “Mr. Renaud, complaints of sexual assault and indecent assault have been filed against you, sections 3124.1 and 3126 of the Pennsylvania Criminal Code. Are you aware of their seriousness?”

  So much he was ready to crush the party responsible. “Yes I am, your honor.”

  “As well as I am aware you’re a very wealthy man,” the judge said, shuffling a few more papers. “One that could afford, say . . .” She thought a moment. “Five million dollars’ bail.”

  More rumblings went through the court as Charlotte said, “If I may, your honor, isn’t that bail a bit . . . overcautious?”

  “No, counselor,” the judge said. “No for someone who has a plane at their disposal to flee the country with.”

  “Not that I would, your honor,” Rex said, to Charlotte’s immediate jab of a spike heel into his toe.

  “Ow,” he whispered, scowling at her.

  “Excuse me?” the judge said, looking up.

  Charlotte coughed. “Nothing, your honor. Sorry.”

  The judge squinted at her before returning to the sheaf of papers. “So, as a man of considerable means being accused of a felony, who’s a foreign national, and who has an extraordinary means of transportation that could whisk him out of the country at a moment’s notice, please tell me Mr. Renaud, why the court should grant you bail?”

  “If I may, your honor,” Charlotte said.

  “Yes, Ms. Andreko?” the judge said a bit impatiently.

  She cleared her throat. “Mr. Renaud, in all his forty years, has an impeccable record in his private life, and a long history of service to the international community. And since he’s the COO of a major corporation, and with the nature of his charge no doubt soon to be picked up by the media, it would be very hard for him to slip out of the country. Even so, the French consulate here in the city is willing to take responsibility for him until the hearing if he’s released into their custody in lieu of bail.”

  “Which won’t be necessary,” Rex interjected.

  “Oh?” The judge looked over. “Why is that?”

  “Because I’d rather make bail than become a burden and distraction to the consulate,” Rex said.

  Charlotte shot him a look of horror. “Jesus—will you keep quiet?” she muttered.

  “Admirable, Mr. Renaud,” the judge said, “but let me ask you a question. Do you have any family in this country?”

  “No, your honor.”

  “Do you own a residence?”

  “No,” he answered.

  “I see.” The judge thought a moment. “So, Mr. Renaud, and this is no reflection on your character, but with such a serious charge leveled against you and no ties to this country except through business, it wouldn’t seem quite reasonable to just let you out to wander the streets.”

  “And I wouldn’t be,” he said. He glanced at Charlotte. “I have an alternate place to stay while I’m in America.”

  “Oh?” the judge said. “Where might that be?”

  “With my attorney. She’s agreed to take full responsibility.” He turned to Charlotte with the full force of his personality. “Isn’t that true, avocate?”

  Chapter Four

  There’s No Place Like Home, There’s No Place Like Home

  HE HAD TO be joking. Charlotte gaped at Rex, following the line of that self-assured jaw to an expression too goddamned determined.

  “Seriously, Ms. Andreko? You’re willing to take responsibility for this client?” The judge hardly sounded convinced.

  “She had agreed, your honor,” Rex answered, “if I were unable to stay with the consulate.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “No—you don’t,” he said, grinning again.

  Charlotte hissed through her teeth, “Why you son of a—”

  “Ms. Andreko,” the judge snapped. “Please address the court. Will you take responsibility for Mr. Renaud or not?”

  If she said no she’d look like an idiot. But saying yes was almost worse. It was bad enough the head of in-your-face Occupy Vagina was defending the COO of a company who’d been labeled misogynistic, branding her an opportunist for risking every feminist principle she ever stood for. But if he was convicted? The idea nearly gave her the shakes. Her reputation would be blown clear back to the Victorians.

  Son of a bitch had her over a barrel and he knew it. And there was only one way to fight back. By proving the connard was as innocent as he said he was. She slanted him a scowl. And he goddamned better be.

  “Yes, your honor,” Charlotte finally said, formulating a reasoning on the fly. “I believe that since Mr. Renaud has never been convicted of as much as a traffic citation, his public stature and financial capabilities would make him less of a flight risk, not more.”

  “Perhaps, but I’m not quite so sure. Which brings us to the question of bail.” She looked to Rex, and not altogether kindly. “Your unique circumstances as well as the severity of this charge demand a bond.” Then she paused, as if for effect. “Five million, to be posted before your release. As well as your absolute assurance you will not fly yourself down to South America. Is that clear, Mr. Renaud?”

  “Perfectly, your honor,” Rex said, unflinchingly, the courtroom rumbling in response. “I haven’t the slightest inclination to go anywhere until all charges against me have been dropped.”

  “I should hope not,” the judge said, “but your five million bond will give you all the more incentive. And Ms. Andreko?”
/>   “Yes, your honor?”

  “I need your assurances you won’t let him out of your sight until the preliminary hearing.”

  Out of her sight? She must be joking. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

  “Are you questioning the judge?” Rex said sotto voce, feigning astonishment.

  “Are you questioning me?” the judge asked.

  Jesus—who’s been charged here? Charlotte thought. She looked to the judge, cornered. “No, your honor. You have my assurance.”

  “That’s all I want,” she answered. She shuffled a few papers on her desk before looking back to Rex. “Mr. Renaud, you’re to report back on Friday, October 3, ten a.m., for your preliminary hearing, That proceeding will determine if sufficient evidence exists to hold the case over for trial. At that time the court may also discuss a reduction in charges or dismissal of the case. Do you understand?”

  “We do, your honor,” Charlotte said.

  The judge peered at her. “Well, that’s excellent.” Then to Rex. “Mr. Renaud, please follow the deputy out so you may post your bond. Ms. Andreko—my chambers, please.”

  “I’ll meet you out front,” Charlotte said to Rex.

  “Oh, you most certainly will,” he said, squeezing her arm as he left.

  Charlotte hoped that shiver came from rage, or what a week it was going to be. A minute later she was standing before the judge’s desk inside her chambers, the judge plopping into a chair behind it. And most pointedly not asking Charlotte to take a seat.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” the judge said.

  “I beg your pardon?” Charlotte answered, taken aback.

  “I’m pretty familiar with your Occupy Vagina,” the judge said, tapping her nail against the armrest. “My daughter even has even started wearing that—that—” She hastily shook her hand in front of her. “That ovary-appliqued bikini top of yours to the pool.”

  “Oh.” Charlotte laughed slightly. “Sells even better than our ‘See Dick Run’ T-shirt.”

  “I’m definitely not laughing,” the judge said.

  “No, of course not.” Jesus.

  “The point being,” the judge continued, “you have a solid reputation in this city, probably in this state. Maybe even wider than that when you think about the shenanigans Renaud’s company pulled last summer. But back then you and your organization stood tall empowering women, not railing against them.”