What the heck is that about?
"Poor bastard," Andreas says, laughing as he strolls out of my office, closing the door behind him.
This is why I love my brother. He doesn't try to change me. He doesn't care that I'm rebellious and fierce and refuse to be tamed. No matter how many times I led protests against the company or caused problems for them, he never once tried to stop me. I needed to fix at least one thing that our father broke, and Andreas understood that, perhaps better than anyone.
I pick up my to-do list, staring at it for a moment, and then I sigh and carefully cross firing Zane off the list. I guess I can give it a few days before I resort to drastic measures just because he makes me feel things I shouldn’t. Besides, it’s not like wanting to sleep with him means I have to give him my heart.
I may be crazy, but I’m not fall-in-love crazy. No way, nu-uh, never going to happen. Not even if Zane Montoya does give me butterflies.
* * *
Alittle before four, my desk phone rings. I save my document, which is full of revisions to the company’s environmental policy, and pick it up.
“Autumn Romano, how can I help you?”
“Little Rebel, it’s Zane.”
“Who?”
He growls in my ear. “Stop fucking with me, Autumn. You know exactly who I am.”
“Oh, I know. But you called melittle rebelafter I specifically asked you not to do so,” I say sweetly. “So, if you’re going to be a pain in my butt, I’m going to be a bigger pain in yours.”
His deep chuckle rolls over me, setting off forest fires deep in my stomach. Lord, he has an incredible laugh. It’s rich and smooth, like brandy. “You seem to do that to me, Ms. Romano,” he says. “Would you be interested in calling a truce for dinner?”
“You want to call a truce for dinner?” I narrow my eyes, instantly suspicious. “Why?”
“We have things to discuss, I’m afraid.”
“Like what?”
“Your criminal record, for starters.”
“Oh. That.”
“Yes. That.”
“In my defense, I was protesting my own family’s company, so it doesn't count.” Every judge in the United States would disagree, but whatever. If they knew my father, they might see things differently.
“You were… You know what? Don’t answer that over the phone. Meet me at the Broadway Steakhouse at six.”
“I don’t discuss business over dinner, Mr. Montoya. I have a strict nine-to-five policy." As of right now, but he doesn't need to know that part.
“Then call it a late lunch, Trouble.”
“Did you just call metrouble?”
“You’re the one with the criminal record,” he says, a smile in his voice.
“Siri, add firing Zane Montoya back to my to-do list!” I shout.
“Add it back to the list? What the fuck, little rebel?” he growls. “How many times has it been on the list already?”
“Three.” I lean back in my chair, delivering this news with a bright smile.
“I’ve only been your lawyer for three days.”
“Yes, and you’ve been annoying me for the entire three days. I sense a pattern,” I say sweetly. I actually haven't even heard from him for two of those days, which is also annoying. Was he working on my case? Was he golfing? It's anyone's guess. Though I kinda figure if he was looking into me, he was working. So I guess I'm just annoyed on principle.