The Billionaire's Lawyer (Halstead Billionaire Brothers Book 3)

by Lauren Wood

  “What new blonde bimbo who’s too young for you will you be bringing on the family vacay this time?”

  I winced because for the first time, that had been the furthest thought from my mind. In fact, I was wondering what it would take to get Liz to join us on something like that, but that would be impossible because of her position as our lawyer…and also because of her hatred for me.

  “You’re one to talk, Jesse,” Jason hissed in my defense, but his gaze steadied on me in deeper thought. “Really though…what has gotten into you? You’ve been like this all day. Are you worried about the investigation?”

  “No, that’s not it,” I grumbled.

  “Woman troubles?” Jesse tried to pry again, laughing to himself.

  But I didn’t answer fast enough and quickly fell under the suspicions of everyone. They cut their wide eyes over to me one by one, stunned by my silent admission.

  “That’s a first,” Jesse scoffed, looking a little guilty for accidentally calling me out.

  Dominic seemed more intrigued than anyone. With the pressure on him to propose to Vanna and start a family, I suspected he was starting to become a little envious of the freedom Jesse and I had. Not so much from having serious girlfriends, but our freedom from everyone’s expectations.

  “I haven’t seen you torn up over a woman since high school,” he observed. “What was that chick’s name?”

  “Becky Hainsworth,” Jason recalled with a point of his fork.

  “Oh yeah. You were lovesick over her. I always thought that rejection was what turned you into such a womanizer afterwards.”

  I smiled and tried to play along without giving away how bad it was. But truthfully, the Becky incident was nothing compared to what I was feeling now.

  The rest of dinner revolved around teasing me for my mystery crush mixed in with stories of ridiculous women I had brought around to family gatherings before. I didn’t enjoy being in the spotlight, but I tried to be a good sport. We all laughed a lot and drank throughout the evening. Until finally Tara, Vanna, and Jason went to go put the kids to bed. Dominic had to call work to check on a few things, so just Jesse and I were left on the front porch.

  We passed a bottle of whiskey back and forth, still laughing over stories from dinner. After a while, Jesse took on a more serious tone. “You really have dated some phenomenally gorgeous chicks though,” he noted enviously before taking a big swig from the bottle.

  “Dating is a bit of a stretch.”

  “Well, they wanted to date you. Some of them anyways. So…what happens now that you’re moving on to a quieter life? You gonna win this new woman over and settle down? You’ll have a bunch of little monsters running around just like Jason and Tara.”

  “Those little monsters are your nieces and nephew.”

  “And I love them. But they sure do remind me of why I don’t want kids of my own. Regardless, you didn’t answer my question.”

  I let out a big sigh, wishing it was so simple as just winning her over. “I don’t know, man. I think this one is a lost cause. I might have blown my chance.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I took her on a date once…a long time ago. Back then, I wasn’t in the right headspace for a woman like her. I was a real jerk, and now she’s not too keen on the idea of giving me a second chance.”

  “You would fall for someone you can’t have, wouldn’t you?” he jested. “But don’t sweat it. If she went out with you once, she obviously saw something in you she liked. Maybe she’ll come around.”

  I had the secret hope that he was right, but I couldn’t continue harassing the poor woman. I especially didn’t want to do anything else to make her feel uncomfortable about working on our case. If only I had some sort of sign that all bets weren’t off.

  A while later I said goodnight to the family and returned back to my penthouse in the city. I was nearly asleep on the couch in front of the TV when my phone went off with a new message. The caller ID said it was from ‘Coffee Shop Lady’ – which I remembered was how I’d saved Liz’s number when we met the first time. I rushed to open it and blinked at the screen several times.

  Lonely…and wildly curious.

  I glanced at the time. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning. Was I dreaming? It didn’t seem like something Liz would confess to so easily, but maybe I really had struck a nerve. I texted her back, offering her my company and to satisfy some of her curiosities. But she never responded. I thought she had to have been just toying with me. She wanted to torment me into agony, and it was working. I couldn’t sleep a wink that night.

  10

  Liz

  My head ached as I stared down my cell phone, sitting in front of me on my desk, and faced the humiliation of what I was about to have to do.

  I was a busy and hardworking and professional. But I was still a human being who needed to blow off steam like everyone else from time to time. That’s what I was attempting to do the night before when I blew through several bottles of wine with friends. It was all fun and games until I ended up back home alone, feeling very drunk and still very turned on by the thought of Eric and his infuriating little speech.

  I sent the message in an impulsive daze, but the minute he started responding, I was hit with a stone-cold wall of sobriety. What the hell had I done? I had spent all day Saturday trying to get away from the guy. He’d finally agreed to leave me alone and had been keeping his word. I just had to go and do something to encourage him.

  Now I had no choice but to call him back and tell him it was a drunken mistake, and that I would appreciate it if he’d forget I ever sent that stupid message. Eric was no stranger to partying. I could tell that much. I knew he wouldn’t judge me, but I also knew he’d never let me live this down. Sending that message was like dangling candy in front of a baby.

  You’re a grown woman, Liz. And grown women make mistakes. Just suck it up and call him. It’ll be over fast – like ripping off a bandaid. I considered asking my assistant to interrupt me in exactly five minutes so I could ensure this didn’t get drug out any longer, but with Eric there was no telling how bright red my cheeks would be or what kinds of things he’d bait me into saying. No, it was better to keep this as private as possible.

  Of course, the phone barely rang twice before he quickly answered. “Oh, hello there. I’ve been waiting for your call.”

  It made me sick. The only reason he was so eager to hear from me now was because he thought he couldn’t have me. If we had been dating a few weeks, I’d doubt he’d be answering at all. But I couldn’t say any of that without derailing the whole conversation. No backsliding into flirtatious banter. I had to stick to the course and get this over with quickly.

  “Hello, Mr. Halstead. Liz here…”

  “Oof, I like the professional tone. You may call me Eric. But only if I can call you ‘wildly curious’ from now on.”

  I cringed and tried to stay calm. I knew he wouldn’t make this easy for me. “Uh, yes…Eric. About that. I was calling to apologize for that message. It was a mistake.”

  “Looked pretty deliberate to me.”

  “I had been drinking. And…”

  “Oh! So, you do know how to have fun!” he beamed over the line. “Liz, you are quite the enigma. Please tell me this means I get a chance to become better acquainted with whatever side of you that sent that message the other night…”

  “Eric, please. I’m calling to apologize. It was incredibly unprofessional of me, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. So, if we could please just forget the whole thing ever happened…”

  “Dammit,” he sighed, catching me off guard.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I shouldn’t have interrupted you. You were saying you were drinking and…Drinking and what? You were drinking and obviously thinking about me.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say.”

  “But it’s the truth, isn’t it?”

  Everything in my brain was telling me to scream no, but n
othing came out of my mouth. What was wrong with me? I was calling to make this disappear, and now I was only making it worse.

  “Eric, I have to go. I’m at work. But I’ll…well, be in touch at some point regarding the case, I’m sure.”

  “Sure thing, darling.” The confidence had returned to his voice.

  What had I done? He would never leave me alone now. And why did the prospect of that make me giddy inside?

  I did my best to put the whole thing out of my mind. There was plenty of work to get wrapped up in, and this whole fiasco was obviously getting to me and making me act like a crazy person. I was eager to forget about the whole thing and never speak another word about it.

  But then the flowers started coming in. Every single morning, I came in to find a new arrangement waiting on me. Sometimes it was twice a day with another bouquet coming in at lunch. I expected the cards to be sleazy, slutty pick-up lines, but no. To make matters worse, each one came with some of the most exquisite love poems ever written. Not written by him of course, but it was surprising and almost impressive that Eric Halstead even knew what a poem was.

  It was like a curse. I had been accustomed to buying myself flowers every single week, and the first time I refused them from a man, they were now pouring into my office like a flood. It lasted for a week until everyone in the office was gossiping and teasing me about my secret admirer. I had no choice but to call and try to reason with him again.

  As I prepared myself for yet another phone call, hoping it went better this time, I was hit with a terrifying realization. Something in me was actually looking forward to talking to him again. Had all the pollen in the air and love-crazed poems made me sick?

  Eric answered my call just as eagerly as before, and I did my best to ignore the way my heart fluttered at the sound of his voice.

  “Do you like the flowers?”

  “No. I mean, yes…,” the alarms started blaring in my head. I was doing it again. If I gave him an inch, he’d take a mile. I had to get myself under control. “They’re a lovely gesture. Thank you. But you have to stop. Everyone in the office is talking. They think I have a boyfriend.”

  “Okay, I’ll stop.”

  “What?” I pushed down the feeling of disappointment. “Really? I mean, thank you. Yes, I really appreciate that.”

  “If you’ll let me take you on another date.”

  “Eric!” I groaned, collapsing into my seat. “It’s very sweet that you’re so…insistent on this. But…I’ve told you how I feel…”

  “Calm down, sweetheart.” A rise of anger returned in me as the old, arrogant Eric returned. But before I could berate him for calling me sweetheart, he continued. “I respect your feelings about me and the case and your job…all of it. I really do. I just…I feel bad about the first date. Which is what you wanted, right? This is sort of like a loose end I have to tie up to feel like I’m really making some changes in my life.”

  “That’s romantic,” I scoffed.

  “Jeez, woman. You are infuriating. I tried romance and it didn’t work. I’m giving up, okay? Just let me make this one thing up to you by taking you on the kind of date you deserve. Then I’ll leave you alone. Unless it has to do with the case, you won’t see or hear from me. And then when all this blows over, you’ll never have to deal with me again.”

  I knew I should have felt duped for getting backed into this corner, but there was a sincerity to his voice. It did seem like he needed to do this to prove something to himself. And I was curious to know what I would have gotten from him on our first date if he’d actually been on his game.

  “Well? What do you say? Friday night…I can pick you up at seven.”

  “I’m not telling you where I live. Next thing I know you’ll be throwing pebbles at my windows and singing to me from the streets.”

  “Fine, your office then.”

  “No! Are you crazy!? You can’t pick me up here! The whole firm will know!”

  “Wait…so are you saying you’re really going on this date with me?”

  I let out a huge moan of exasperation. Was that what I was saying? Was I actually agreeing to this nonsense? “Ugh, just text me the address for the reservations…assuming you remember to make them. I’ll meet you there. But don’t be late this time.”

  I hung up before he had a chance to tack anything else onto this ridiculous ultimatum. Then I was left to swallow down what I had just agreed to. For him it was a second chance. For me, it was a waste of time. Whatever these little tingly feelings inside were, they couldn’t change who Eric really was, and I was not about to get my hopes about him only to be disappointed again.

  11

  Eric

  The night of my date with Liz arrived, and I wasn’t going to mess things up this time. I arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes early – just to make sure that absolutely nothing prevented me from being there on time. And to make sure she didn’t back out, I figured out her address and sent a car to her apartment to deliver her to me.

  The black vehicle pulled up in front Trop Bon at exactly seven o’clock, and I knew all my efforts had been worth it from the moment Liz stepped out of the car. I could tell she didn’t dress up too much, probably thinking it was a waste of time. But she didn’t need to. She looked gorgeous whether she tried to or not.

  “I wasn’t so sure I’d see you here,” she quipped, as she approached me on the sidewalk. “I kept waiting for you to call and say you’d be late.”

  “I wouldn’t waste my second chance.”

  I tried to lean in and kiss her cheek, but she was stiff and pulled away. That was okay. I had all night to win her over. And truthfully, I had accepted that it may not happen. But the least I could do was show her that not all men were pigs, even if I had previously been one.

  “I’m going to have an allergy attack from all the flowers,” she said as I handed over the big bouquet of red roses. But she lowered her face to them and took in a whiff of the sweet scent, so I knew she wasn’t really too bothered by it.

  “After you, madam,” I held the door for her, ignoring all the little biting remarks. I expected those and knew would be more to come.

  Liz stepped forward to the hostess desk, but I pulled her back a few feet to a stairwell in the corner of the restaurant foyer where a maître d' was waiting for us.

  “Good evening Mr. Halstead,” she nodded to us graciously. “Right this way.”

  The woman started up the stairs with Liz following behind. She shot confused glances over her shoulder as we went. But she stopped looking back the moment we arrived on the rooftop. The weather was perfect – not too hot or too cold. And the entire patio was lined with glowing Edison bulbs that crossed over a singular ornate table set right in the center, just for us.

  “I wasn’t aware that this place had rooftop seating,” she gasped, as she stepped forward to take it in.

  You could see a perfect view of the entire city from our table. As we were seated, a small group of string musicians started playing.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she laughed, whipping her head around to the sound of the romantic, whining strings.

  I couldn’t tell if she was impressed or not. She could be a hard person to read sometimes, which is why I guess I truly thought I had previously blown my chance with her. Thank God for drunken texts. It was the sign I had hoped for.

  We enjoyed a luxurious classic seven course French dinner with appetizers and wine, a gourmet soup, salmon and lemon sorbet, duck à l'orange, a cheese plate, and chocolate tarts for dessert. It was hard to talk too much while we were swept up in the delicious food. But halfway through the main course, something wasn’t sitting right with me.

  “You’re eating too fast,” I noted finally, after I was able to put my finger on it.

  Her eyes widened as she put a napkin to her mouth. “Excuse me?”

  “I know you’re in a hurry to get this night over with, but don’t take it out on the food. Slow down and enjoy it. Savor it.”

/>   “I should’ve figured you’d consider yourself to be some kind of expert on fine dining,” she scoffed, not bothering to take my advice and she continued scarfing down each bite.

  “It’s not just about fine dining. It’s about fine living,” I corrected her. “Watch me.”

  I slowly cut off a small piece of my duck and slid it into my mouth, taking long drawn out breaths as I chewed to take in every last burst of the juices and seasonings.

  “You see? The chef makes an art out of preparing this so there is a certain order of flavors you taste. If you go too fast, you miss them.” She looked unmoved. “Humor me, okay?”

  With a not so subtle roll of her eyes, she took a slower bite. She pretended to be unimpressed, but I noticed the next bite she took was even slower. Finally, she lost herself in truly enjoying the meal. By the end of it, we were making a game out of naming off as many flavors as we could taste.

  “I never thought of food in this way,” she confessed. “Normally, I’m cramming meals on the run down my throat in between conference calls and briefings…always rushing to and from the office. I don’t think the Chinese takeout I eat has a palette that’s quite so…extensive.”

  “It probably does, if you take the time to slow down and notice it.”

  “I think you’re missing my point. We don’t all have the luxury to laze about all day doing everything on a whim.”

  “Don’t we?” I argued. “Look, Liz. I get it. You’re the busy career woman, and it’s very admirable. I respect you, really. My brothers are the same way. But you’re here now…and you don’t have to rush. So, enjoy it. Stop trying to make a point.”

  Her eyes lit up with anger in the way they always did around me, which was both exciting and terrifying. I knew she was gearing up to lecture me, but I cut her off. “I’ve traveled all over the world. And take it from me – rich or poor, the happiest people are ones that live slow, simple lives.”