The Charmer’s Gambit

by Lexi C. Foss

  “The answer will always be no.” He could try to entice me with food and charm all he wanted, but I would never agree.

  “How about we discuss it over dinner.” Not a question, just a statement underlined with a hint of demand. Typical Will.

  “Are you paying?”

  “Naturally.”

  I gestured for him to lead the way. “Then after you, Mister Mershano.”

  “I’ll keep him in line,” Evan said as he trailed along behind us.

  “That’s a tall order,” Sarah said, putting in her two cents.

  I snorted. “Please. I’ve got this.” There was a reason I became a lawyer. Winning an argument ran in my blood.

  Will held out a chair for me, so I took the one opposite him. His dimples flashed in response, and he sat beside me while Evan and Sarah looked on in amusement. If that simple act entertained them, then they were in for a treat.

  When the waiter arrived, I ordered a bottle of the restaurant’s most expensive imported wine and one of each appetizer for the table. “Oh, and I won’t be sharing the wine, so just one glass.”

  Sarah coughed to cover her laugh while the waiter jotted everything down. “And for you, sir?”

  Will didn’t miss a beat. “Hmm, I’ll take an extra order of calamari and a glass of the Reserve Mershano Cabernet Franc, please.”

  The grin slipped from my face as the waiter beamed. “Ah, excellent choice, sir. We just received our first shipment, and the customers love it. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  “Oh, really? It’s an unknown brand in these parts. What is everyone saying?”

  I rolled my eyes as the waiter gushed over the positive feedback and reviews.

  “The best they’ve ever had, huh?” Will mused. “Interesting. Did you hear that, darlin’? Maybe you should give it a try.”

  “No, thank you,” I replied sweetly.

  “We’ll take a bottle,” Evan murmured, handing his menu to the waiter. “And I don’t think I’ll need a main course with all the appetizers.” He cast an amused glance my way before looking at Sarah.

  “Oh, I want lasagna. And if you try to steal any, I’ll divorce you.”

  “That requires you to marry me first, sweetheart.”

  She shrugged. “Semantics.”

  “I’ll have lasagna as well,” Will added before smiling at me. “Do you want a main course with all those appetizers?”

  “Chicken Alfredo, please. And can you add lobster and shrimp to that?”

  The waiter gave me an appraising look, as if to ask, Where are you planning to put all this food? I might be a tall woman at five feet ten, but I was on the thin side thanks to my morning workout regimen and genetics. My mother’s Irish heritage paled my skin, while my father’s German side gave me the blonde hair and blue eyes. They were both on the slender side naturally and passed those traits on to me and my brother, Caleb. Although, he seemed a bit bulkier the last time I’d seen him, and not with fat.

  “Of course, ma’am,” the waiter said after he finished checking me out. “I’ll be back with your wine.” His parting words had me turning to the arrogant blond beside me.

  “You shipped a case of Mershano Vineyards to the restaurant?”

  “No, I shipped several cases. Sarah said it was her favorite place in Chicago, and I figured the beautiful clientele might appreciate some decent wine.”

  I huffed out a breath. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “Why, thank you, darlin’. The feeling’s mutual. Now, would you prefer to hear my proposal while you’re sober or after you’ve had a few drinks?”

  “Wine won’t make me say yes, Will.”

  “My wine might.”

  I batted my eyelashes at him. “Care to wager on that?”

  I half expected him to take me up on it, but instead, the businessman peeked out from behind his playful mask. He usually bantered with me for a few more minutes before this side appeared.

  Uncertainty settled in the pit of my stomach.

  No more teasing.

  His expression boasted confidence as he prepared for a new round of negotiations.

  This was the part of him I feared, the persona that made me feel inferior. He had no way of knowing this, nor was it something he did on purpose. On a logical level, I understood that, but I couldn’t help my knee-jerk reaction to run.

  Powerful, rich men always won, no matter the cost. I knew that better than anyone.

  “Why are you so adamant against working for me, Rachel? It’s a stable position with excellent benefits, and I’ve already offered to triple your current salary. What more do you need?”

  “I don’t want to move.”

  “I’ve offered to let you work remotely in Chicago.”

  I shook my head. “There’s no way I could hire and manage a team of a dozen lawyers from here. What you’re asking me to do is nowhere near as simple as whipping up a contract.”

  “I know that, which is why I want to hire you.”

  “What I did for Sarah and Evan is nothing like an international acquisition, Will. That was a simple contract.”

  “Right, one written by Garrett Wilkinson that you shredded.”

  The famous name made my heart skip a beat, as it always did. He was the prime example of what an expensive education and inherited contacts could do for a lawyer. It helped that he was brilliant and also good-looking. I’d never actually met the man, but I knew I stood absolutely no chance against a man of his reputation.

  “I didn’t shred anything. I just rewrote part of it,” I muttered.

  “And impressed the hell out of him in the process.”

  I almost laughed. “Doubtful. You should hire him instead.”

  “He’s an estate attorney, not a corporate lawyer. Besides, I want you.” Those last three words warmed me in a way they shouldn’t. He said them to me every time we debated his proposal. I should be used to them by now, but I couldn’t shake the giddy sensation that blossomed deep within. Which was precisely why I kept saying no. I refused to allow this attraction to grow between us. Whether he intended to act on it or not remained a moot point. I’d sworn off men like him a long time ago, and I wasn’t about to break my rule now.

  “I’m flattered, but I’m not interested.” In working for you, or otherwise. “I like working for Baker Brown. They’re one of the top firms in Chicago, and I have no intention of leaving them anytime soon.”

  The waiter chose that moment to return with our wine. Excellent timing. I needed a drink, or twelve, to calm my nerves. Will always did this to me, even in the beginning. Men rarely flustered me, but he found a way each time. And he kept sweetening the offer, making it nearly impossible to refuse.

  The opportunity itself was a dream job. Mershano Vineyards needed an attorney who specialized in corporate law to lead an international acquisition project. My education and experience tied nicely to the requirements, and managing a team of lawyers would look great on my resume. But there were other, more qualified candidates out there, and Will had to know that. Which was why I suspected he wanted me for the wrong reasons.

  Will was the type of man who enjoyed a good game of cat and mouse, and I refused to sleep my way up the corporate ladder. When he finally realized that, he’d lose interest, and I’d be without a job. A harsh train of thought, sure, but realistic.

  Maybe there was more to his offer, but I refused to let myself read into it. Because I knew if I found any truth in it, then I’d be more likely to accept, and I couldn’t risk it.

  “Tell me about your firm,” Will said after the waiter finished pouring our drinks.

  I finished half my glass before I gave the usual spiel reserved for potential clients. Not that he was one, but because it was easier. He listened patiently, asked all the right questions, and continued the discussion while we indulged in way too much food. He didn’t make me another offer, for which I was thankful, but I knew he hadn’t given up. Not by a long shot.

  Evan and Sarah busied t
hemselves with talking about a work-related trip and the nuances of the move for tomorrow. He had hired a company to pick up the boxes in the morning, and they planned to meet their belongings in New Orleans. I offered to oversee the move from my apartment so they could head home early, which meant I would be going home alone tonight.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Sarah whispered as she hugged me tight.

  “Me too.” And I would. Maybe not as a roommate, because I liked my space, but she was my best friend. I loved her like a sister.

  “I’ll call you every day.”

  “You better. And you better visit too.” Because I wouldn’t be able to visit her very easily. She would assume work was the reason, but it had nothing to do with my job and everything to do with my past. My former fiancé didn’t like me to travel, and he had abnormal resources at his disposal to keep me in Chicago.

  “Definitely,” she promised. “Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Evan opened the door of a waiting car for her, and she slid inside. “You two behave,” he said, his gaze on Will.

  “I always behave,” he replied, smirking.

  “Right.” With a shake of his head, Evan joined Sarah in the back seat.

  I smiled as they pulled away. My best friend had finally found a man worthy of her. His wealth and stature concerned me a bit, but if anyone could handle an influential man, it was Sarah.

  “Let’s go, darlin’.” Will, the forever gentleman, insisted on escorting me home since I’d finished half my bottle of wine by the end of dinner. He didn’t touch me but walked close enough for me to catch his spicy scent. I hated that it made my nostrils flare.

  He was potent and he knew it. Every flash of a dimple, the confident way he moved, and the constant taunt in his gaze made for a toxic combination.

  That, coupled with the alcohol, and I could admit he was downright attractive. And so not coming into my apartment tonight.

  “Still no?” he asked as we paused at my door.

  “I’m slightly buzzed, not drunk, so yep. Still no.”

  “Good thing I didn’t take that bet,” he replied, grinning that cocky grin of his. “But I have hope, Miss Dawson. We’ll work together.”

  “Uh-huh.” I patted his muscular chest and immediately regretted touching him. He radiated a heat that left me feeling so cold. I couldn’t even remember the last time I let a man entertain me. It wasn’t that I disliked sex. Quite the opposite. I loved it. But after the last time, I swore never to take a man to my bed again no matter how much I desired him. I refused to let anyone else get hurt as a result of knowing me.

  Will cocked his hip against the wall while I slid my key into the lock. “Have a little faith, darlin’. We’ll get there.”

  I stepped inside and turned to face him. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

  He braced his arms over the door frame and stared down at me. His pupils dilated as they dropped to my lips and slid back up. “Evan’s father once called my desire to own and run a winery a ‘pipe dream’ and insisted I give up. Now that ‘pipe dream’ is worth eight figures, and you know why? Because I didn’t quit.”

  He dropped his arms and stepped just over the line into my personal space. I had to look up to hold his stare, which put our lips a few inches apart at best. This was a new tactic, and it halted the air in my lungs.

  “I never quit when I want something, Miss Dawson.” He pressed even closer, his breath feathering over my parted lips, but still not touching me. “And as I’ve said, I want you.” He stood like that a moment longer, lingering, taunting, and making me wonder what he would do next.

  Will he kiss me? Do I want him to?

  Maybe . . .

  But he pulled back and flashed that dimpled grin at me. “Have a good night, darlin’. I’ll see you soon.” He turned away with a playful wink.

  Well, hell.

  I stood gaping after him as he strode down the hall, hands in his jean pockets, his shoulders straightened with confidence. Arrogant man.

  “I’ll still say no!” I called after him.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way, darlin’,” he returned.

  I shut the door with a shake of my head and a smile on my face. This game, or whatever it was, had started out as annoying but seemed to be heading into entertaining territory. As long as I kept refusing him, of course. Once I gave in, the fun would end.

  I took two steps toward the kitchen, when a knock sounded behind me. “Oh, good grief. I am not ready for another round, Mershano,” I said as I opened the door. “My answer . . .” My smile died as I met a pair of icy blue eyes that were nothing like Will’s dark ones.

  “Ryan,” I breathed.

  “Hi, baby girl.”

  2

  Political Aspirations

  My eyes darted to the chain on the door. I had it installed for moments like this, but being with Will had put my guard down. I didn’t even think to check before I opened the door either.

  Ryan didn’t ask if he could come in. He never did. Just pushed the heavy wood forward and me backward along with it. He looked immaculate in his designer suit, his brown hair styled to perfection and his demeanor intimidating. It used to be a look that made my mouth water. Now all it did was push ice through my veins.

  Six months.

  We went six months without seeing each other. No calls, no notes, no nasty emails or unexpected late-night visits. I had taken it as a sign that maybe, finally, he was letting me go.

  I walked away from him three years ago. It took considerable effort and help from an old friend to do it, but it happened. Ryan had tried for weeks to force me “home,” showing up every day at my friend’s apartment with a new taunt. It’d been the hardest months of my life, but I’d survived.

  Because of Mark . . .

  If he hadn’t been home that day . . .

  But he was.

  The memory of that afternoon elicited a grimace, as it always did. I hated that I couldn’t escape Ryan on my own, but I also acknowledged that reaching out to Mark for help was what empowered me. It gave me back my freedom. Or at least a semblance of it.

  But Ryan had it in his head that he was the one who proposed a temporary break, which happened several months after I originally left him.

  “You focus on your career, baby girl. I’ll be back when we’re both ready.” It’d been a taunt and a promise all wrapped up in one, and it haunted my nightmares.

  Because he did, in fact, show up when and where he wanted and contacted me at least once every other week in some shape or form.

  Then he vanished around the holidays, and I thought maybe, just maybe, he’d moved on or found someone else to obsess over.

  But no.

  It was a naive notion.

  And I knew better.

  Ryan Albertson did not simply forget about the things he deemed to be his property. He gave them space on occasion, but he always came back to check on what he considered to be his.

  He didn’t waste any time in searching my apartment, checking my bedroom first, the bathroom, and then the guest room. The words, Get the fuck out, lodged in my throat, unable to escape. Standing up to him always made it worse. Playing along worked best. My hand trembled as it slipped into my pocket to find my phone. Two clicks and it would dial Sarah. I waited to see his expression before I made my decision. He might hide behind a mask of handsome perfection for the outside world, but he never hid from me.

  “Is Sarah coming or leaving?” he wondered, noting the boxes.

  I cleared the emotion from my throat. “She’s moving out.” Lying was only a short-term solution. He always checked what I told him, and the repercussions for a lie were far worse than the truth. Ryan’s political connections were vast and terrifying. He’d threatened to have me disbarred more than once, and I had no doubt he could do it.

  “Good. I never liked her.” He smoothed a hand down his tie as he turned toward me with an adoring look that made my insides churn. How m
any times had he used those eyes on me and won?

  I’m sorry, Rachel.

  I love you.

  I’ll never do it again. I promise.

  Those eventually turned into something much worse.

  I own you.

  You would be nothing without me.

  Shut up, or I’ll do it again.

  I shivered at the onslaught of memories. They felt so fresh despite being several years old. I barely survived him once, but sometimes I wondered if I ever really did. He seemed to think this separation was temporary. That I would eventually be his again and just needed time to grow my career first.

  He called it an experiment, to see how it would help his already prestigious position to date around and build politically favorable relationships. But I was still his girl, the one he would wed one day when the time was right. And I didn’t have a say in it.

  Most days, I wondered who left whom, because I could swear I was the one who broke off the engagement. Granted, I never did say the words. That would have required Ryan to be there the day I woke up alone on the floor.

  “I’ve missed you, baby,” he murmured, cupping my cheek. I caressed my phone, debating whether or not to dial Sarah. This close, he would hear it ring. And that would infuriate him. I had too many meetings this week to risk one of his lessons. Walking in with a black eye never impressed anyone. “What have you been up to?”

  “Working.” I tried to swallow but couldn’t. Not with him touching me. “A lot.”

  “Mmm, I think you work too hard. Always have.”

  Yes, that was a point of contention between us. He wanted me to be a Barbie doll stay-at-home wife who attended his political functions and looked pretty on his arm.

  It didn’t start that way. He used to encourage my studies and even applauded my high marks. We went out to celebrate the day Baker Brown offered me a position after I graduated from Northwestern.

  Then things started to change.