The Hot Lawyer (A Romance Love Story) (Hargrave Brothers - Book #4)

by Alexa Davis

  "Lexi, I don't know what I'd do without out you," he said as he raised a hand to my face and gently stroked my cheek. "You have changed my world. You've expanded it and made it bigger and brighter, and you've made me realize that there's nothing more important in life than love. I love you, Lexi Wallace."

  "I love you, too, Max Malin…Malinchenko." I gazed up into his face and decided that there was nothing I loved more than staring at it.

  "I don't ever want to be without you again," he said as he let go of my waist and lightly kissed my lips. The next thing I knew, he had dropped to one knee and was holding up a small black box as he said, “Will you do me the great honor of agreeing to marry me, Lexi Wallace?"

  "What?" I replied, shocked and not sure if I had suddenly hallucinated this whole scene.

  "Will you marry me?" he repeated as he opened the box and offered me the most exquisite ring I'd ever seen in my life. I looked at the ring and then back at him, scared that it was all going to disappear.

  "Yes, Max, I will marry you!" I cried as he stood up and took the ring out of the box, placing it on my finger and kissing me deeply. I wrapped my arms around my neck and returned his kiss before throwing my head back and laughing. "I love you, Max Malinchenko!"

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  Epilogue

  I watched Viv step out into the aisle as the music began to play, then I took a deep breath, centered the bouquet of perfect red roses, and began my walk toward Max. He was standing at the end of the aisle with a wide smile on his face, waiting for me to join him. The venue was packed with hundreds of people who wanted to wish us well, but I only had eyes for Max.

  After he'd proposed, we'd spent the next several weeks turning our fake publicity stunt into a real wedding, figuring that it was better to do it now rather than later. I'd given up working in the store for rehearsals with the theater company and they'd agreed to give me a few days off to get married, despite the fact that we were under a great deal of pressure to get the show up and running. Max had offered to underwrite the show so that they wouldn't have to worry about the expenses, but I'd quickly put the kibosh on that, knowing that he would understand how I hard I'd worked for this.

  We had agreed that we'd take a long honeymoon as soon as the three-month run of the play was done, but we hadn't decided where to go. The night that Max took me to meet his Babi and his father, Max's father revealed that he had arranged for us to tour Moscow and St. Petersburg, before heading to the Ukraine to see the wonders of Kiev. I could tell that Max was angry, but I could also see that his father was trying to offer him an olive branch, so I declared it was the best trip anyone could have given us and Max softened.

  At the end of the evening, as we were preparing to leave, Babi pulled me aside and hugged me tightly saying, "You are just what we need in this family. Ty nasha radast."

  "And I need a family, so it looks like we're a good fit," I smiled as I hugged her back.

  Looking around, I saw Babi's smiling face and Vladimir standing next to her, smiling proudly. My own parents had not been able to make it back to the States in time for the wedding, but they had promised to be home in time to celebrate Christmas with us at the penthouse. As I looked up at the front of the aisle, I saw Viv facing me and her smile lit up the room as she held tightly to a small, gray kitten that looked only mildly irritated about having to play the role of bridesmaid bouquet. Viv planted a kiss on Anna's head and the little fur-ball chirped as I came into view.

  I smiled and focused my attention on Max as I reached his side. He held out his hand and as I took it, I knew I'd found my forever home in his smile.

  #

  After the ceremony, Lexi and I spent the evening dining, drinking, and dancing with our guests. There was an outpouring of love and gifts, and by the time the night was over, Lexi and I had kissed and hugged hundreds of people, some of whom we didn't know at all, but who were close friends of Sergei Petrov and his investment partners. Petrov told me that he had a new deal he'd like to share with me, and I agreed to meet him for lunch the following week to discuss it.

  Out on the dance floor, I held Lexi close and swayed to the music as I counted the minutes until we could escape back to the privacy of our home. "I want to take you home now," I whispered in her ear as I let my hand roam a little farther than was entirely appropriate.

  "Mr. Malinchenko, please, we have guests," she giggled as she wrapped her arm around my waist and pulled me tightly against her, daring me to protest.

  "Mrs. Malinchenko, please, you are being highly inappropriate!" I protested.

  As Lexi threw her head back and laughed loudly, I leaned down and kissed her neck. The scent of her was intoxicating, and I felt my body responding to her warmth as I kissed a path up her neck to her lips, where I received a low moan as a reward for my efforts at seduction.

  "When can we leave?" I asked very seriously.

  "Soon," she replied as she looked up into my eyes and smiled.

  We exited through the crowd as they tossed rice and rose petals at us, wishing us well. I grabbed Lexi's hand and we made a run for the car waiting out front, and once inside, I put my arms around her and kissed her deeply, tasting the wine and sweet sugar frosting from our cake on her lips. By the time we arrived home, we were both vibrating with desire, so I scooped her up in my arms and made a mad dash for the elevator, much to the surprise of the doorman.

  Up in the penthouse, I carried Lexi to the master bedroom and gently set her down on the bed before stepping back so I could take one more look at her. I dropped to my knees in front of her and pulled her hands to my lips as I whispered, "You are the most beautiful woman in the world, Lexi Malinchenko, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove myself worthy of your love."

  "Oh, Max," she sighed as she pulled me to her and placed her hands on either side of my face. "I love you more than you will ever know."

  I gently kissed her lips as I unzipped her dress and slowly pushed it off of her shoulders, exposing her bare skin. I heard her sigh as I ran the tips of my fingers over her shoulders and down her chest. As I slipped her dress off and left it puddled on the ground in a pool of white satin and shining beads, I laid her down before quickly shedding my own clothing.

  I had been aching for her for hours, and I knew she had been doing the same when I slid a hand between her thighs and felt the fierce heat radiating from between her legs. I pushed myself up so that I was positioned above her as she pressed her lips to mine and moaned loudly. With one quick thrust, I was deep inside her and I heard her cry out as she raked her nails down my sides and arched her back to meet my pounding rhythm. I could hear her begging me to take her to make her mine, so I lost myself in the rhythm as I steadily pulled back and then thrust into her again and again.

  It didn't take either of us long to reach the peak, and as soon as I slid a hand between us and began firmly stroking her clit, I heard her cry out and felt the familiar clenching and release as she climaxed. Moments later, I joined her as I let go and released all the desire and tension I'd been holding in all day. I groaned loudly and felt her hands on my face as I looked down into her beautiful eyes and smiled.

  “Don’t ever stoya, Mr. Malinchenko,” she smiled up at me.

  “Never,” I promised. “Not ever.”

  Get my next book. Click here to continue.

  Get my never released free book Tempting for a limited time.

  Click here to get your free book

  BILLIONAIRE’S TRAGEDY

  By Alexa Davis and Claire Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Alexa Davis

  CHAPTER ONE

  Linc

  "Callie, Mr. Russo is lying and he knows he is lying," I said calmly as I sat b
ack in my chair and watched the man sitting across from me begin to fume. I could feel the studio lights beating down on me as beads of sweat began to form on my forehead, but I wasn't about to back down and let Russo have the advantage.

  "Mr. Russo, how do you respond to that?" the blonde news anchor asked as she turned away from me. We'd been invited on the show to debate the need for improved weapons safety reforms after yet another act of violence in a public place. Davis Russo was the president of American Weapons Network, and I owned the company that was on the verge of releasing technology that would make guns exponentially safer. My invention of grip specific technology was not only revolutionary, but also a threat to weapons industry profits because it would make it nearly impossible for gun owners to sell weapons under the table and private sales were where all the money lay.

  "Callie, I believe Mr. Redding is mistaken when he accuses me of lying," the man said as his beady eyes darted back and forth, making him look like anything but honest. I loathed Russo for his Wild West approach to gun ownership — no one was safe unless everyone owned one. "My research shows that far fewer people are injured in gun related accidents than Mr. Redding's leftist media figures indicate. I believe that the vast majority of gun owners are responsible people who are simply seeking to protect themselves and their families against violence perpetrated by those who fail to follow the law. We need guns because criminals, by definition, do not abide by the law. Like I've always said, if we outlaw guns, then only outlaws will have guns."

  "I don't think that's what Mr. Redding is saying, Mr. Russo," Callie Mitchell interjected. I wanted to hold my hand up and tell her to stop. I'd been down this road with Russo many times over the past fifteen years and never once had I seen him so much as blink when asked to listen to a rational argument in favor of gun control.

  "Callie, Mr. Russo knows precisely what I'm saying since we do this same song and dance every few months," I replied as I leaned forward and focused my gaze on the newswoman leading the discussion. "The reality is that we don't actually have any reliable figures related to gun violence in this country since the enactment of the Dickey Amendment has meant that the CDC has not been allowed to research or even gather information related to gun violence in this country for almost two decades."

  "Mr. Russo?" she asked.

  "Mr. Redding and I do go round and round on this, but I think that Mr. Redding's position is much more personal than mine, Callie," he said as a thin smile slowly snaked across his face. "I think Mr. Redding's financial connection to the outcome of this legislation has made him a somewhat unreliable participant in these debates. I, on the other hand, have little or no financial investment in the issue. I am simply a staunch supporter of the Second Amendment and believe that all citizens have the right to own and carry firearms. My position is simply to protect those rights."

  I wanted to wipe the smarmy grin off of Russo's face once and for all. I hated the man not only because he was a loathsome individual, but also because I believed he was personally responsible for the death of my parents and six other people.

  His hateful rhetoric, developed when he'd been clawing his way up the ladder at the AWN, had inspired a fanatical following, and one of his true believers, a man with a history of violence, had walked into a pawn shop in Baltimore and walked out with a gun that same evening. He then followed my parents to the restaurant where they were celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary and shot them point blank as they'd left. The man, Warren Abraham, had slipped away unnoticed and shot six more people at random before the police caught up with him. He had a list of the victims in his coat pocket and had not resisted arrest; instead, he'd repeated over and over again that he'd been, "ordered by God to rid the earth of those who opposed his right to protect himself.” In a hearing later that month, he had been deemed too mentally impaired to stand trial. He was now locked up in a hospital on the outskirts of Baltimore where, every year, he was examined to see if he'd become competent enough to be released. However, he asserted that he'd only been following orders issued by his pastor who preached the right of all citizens to protect themselves from a tyrannical government. His preacher had been the Reverend Russo.

  My mother's best friend Maureen Warren, or Mo as I called her, had made sure that I'd been keep entirely out of the spotlight during the media circus to the point that no one, aside from close family and friends, recognized me as the son of the two murdered people. She’d used her wealth and influence to shield me for most of my life.

  I'd been allowed to grow up outside of the shadow of the killing, but it had affected every aspect of my life. Davis Russo was not one of the people who'd been privy to information about my life, but he often threatened to reveal things I'd rather he didn't. He did this with everyone who threatened his power, so while I didn’t take it personally, I was always poised to respond to his attacks.

  "Callie, I believe Mr. Russo is confusing his own culpability with his desire to project his guilt onto me," I said, smiling warmly at the woman before turning and staring at Russo straight in the eyes. "It is true that my financial motivation is substantial, but I don't view profit as a negative consequence of pushing for gun safety laws. I'm not preaching fear and exclusion; I'm focusing my energies on something productive: legislation that will protect thousands of Americans each year."

  I watched Russo begin to boil. I always enjoyed this part of the debate where I got to talk about the good I was doing to try and keep people safe and Russo was rendered impotent because to counter my points would mark him as the problem. I knew it and I loved it.

  "My company, GRIPTech, has worked hard to design a line of touch sensitive technological innovations called GripPlus that can be attached to any gun and render it operable by only the persons programmed to use it," I said, leaning back comfortably. I enjoyed talking about this because there was no way for Russo to say anything negative about it without sounding like he actually wanted people to be able to shoot one another. "We've found that the majority of domestic accidents connected to guns could have been prevented if only the rightful owner of the gun were able to operate it. This technology would make it impossible for children to shoot each other if weapons are carelessly left where they can be accessed."

  "What about crimes, Mr. Redding?" Callie asked. I could see she was fighting to hold back a triumphant grin. Most news reporters in D.C. despised Davis Russo just as much as I did. He was a rude and condescending man who lorded his power over everyone and severely punished those who didn't bow down.

  "I'm glad you asked, Callie," I said as I turned and faced the camera. This was the point at which I got to tell the viewing public what was really at stake. "Grip technology would render stolen weapons impossible to use, and since approximately twenty percent of all firearms used to commit crimes pass through a chain of unregulated private transfers and sixty percent of weapons are simply stolen, we feel that implementing grip technology would result in a drastic lowering of crime over the long term."

  "It would also add an additional five hundred to a thousand dollars to the sale price of each individual weapon, rendering it unaffordable for those in lower income brackets," Russo sneered. "So, if I'm understanding Mr. Redding's thesis, it's that he wants only billionaires such as himself to be able to afford to buy guns."

  "That's not at all what I'm saying, Russo and you know it," I shot back. Russo always aimed at class warfare to try and whittle down my points because he knew that otherwise, he had no leg to stand on. "I'm saying get the guns out of the hands of the criminals by locking usage into one person's prints – or in the case of our GripPlus technology, you can program the grip for multiple person access."

  "The reality is that you don't want the common man to own a gun, do you?" Russo said. "You hate poor people and you think they're too dumb to be able to own guns. Isn't that right, Mr. Redding?"

  "Gentlemen, I'm afraid that we've run out of time, but I want to thank you both for being here today," Callie said as she faced
the camera and continued. "It's obvious that we have a range of opinions about gun ownership in this country and that the American people are divided on the issue. The question is how we will find a way to compromise. Join us tomorrow night when dig deeper into the issue and talk with researchers from the CDC who are advocating overturning the Dickey Amendment and allowing the CDC to begin researching the epidemic of gun violence in the United States."

  We all paused, looking at the camera as the director called cut and the lights came up. Callie looked at me and gave me a sad smile as she shrugged.

  "You aren't going to win this one, Redding," Russo said as he waited for an assistant to remove his mic. "The tide of public opinion is shifting toward individual rights and away from your 'greater good' narrative. People are scared, and they don't trust the government to protect them."

  "I don't believe that, Russo," I said as I nodded at the young assistant pulling my mic. "People don't want their children shooting each other accidentally, nor do they want criminals getting a hold of weapons. I have never understood why you oppose the implementation of technology that would render both of those things impossible."

  "I'm for individual rights," he replied as he brushed a piece of lint from his lapel.

  "Your own individual rights, maybe," I said wryly. "You don't give a shit about anyone but yourself, Russo. All of this is a ruse to fool people into supporting the weapons manufacturing industry because they line your pockets with cash."

  "Not all of us have been so fortunate to inherit large sums of money," he said as he raised an eyebrow.

  "That's a low blow, even for a slime ball like you, Russo," I said through clenched teeth as I fought to hold back the urge to punch his teeth into the back of his throat.