The Business of Attraction

by M K Lansbury

  What I don’t want to be secretive is what you think of my book. Please, I’d love to hear back from you. Let me know what you liked, and what you didn’t like. I try to answer every single email that comes to be. You can contact me at mk@mklansbury.com.

  And please tell the world what you think of it. Every single review on Amazon, BookBub or Goodreads makes a HUGE difference for a young, emerging writer like myself.

  Thanks for coming along this secretive (but not really secretive) journey. I know I’m a happier person for sharing this book with the world, and appreciate you being one of my readers.

  Sincerely,

  MK

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  A Preview of

  THE LAWS OF ATTRACTION: A SECRET SWEET ROMANCE BOOK 2

  She’s a young family lawyer hoping to help her clients. He’s the hot shot opposing counsel that’s never lost a case. Will a secretive, growing attraction between the two affect force them to choose sides between love and the law?

  Yasmin is in family law to help couples and children work out their differences. Having worked for a growing Chicago firm for five years, she’s poised to make a move to partner if she’s able to win her latest assignment, a high-profile divorce between business founders.

  But on the other side of the table is Holden, an attractive high-profile divorce attorney that’s never lost a case. She knew the case would be an uphill battle, but she never expected this. But when a romance begins, they both realize that it’s something that will force them to choose love or business.

  ONE

  The Keene-Day Affair

  It was ten past one and Yasmin Diaz was running late.

  Hoping she didn’t look too much like the tardy White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland she kept glancing at her watch, her foot drumming a rushed beat on the floor of the car. Her Uber driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror.

  “You okay, Miss?”

  “Just want to get there on time,” Yasmin flashed him a quick smile.

  “It’s only a few more minutes.” He turned into a lane off Robertsdale.

  Yasmin smoothed her dark grey skirt. It was the most expensive piece of clothing she had ever purchased but when she saw it in the store a year ago she had to buy it. It was a little pricey but it went great with her caramel complexion and she wanted to reward herself for the first time since… well, perhaps ever. She looked down, realizing that she’d worn it enough times to get her money’s worth.

  The thought of purchases forced he to grab her phone and open her Amazon shopping app. She scrolled through an infinite number of items on her sister’s baby gift registry and selected a pair of baby monitors. She would be leaving for her hometown of Portage in the morning and wanted to make sure she had ordered the gifts in time.

  Yasmin wondered for the tenth time why she had been assigned to this case at the last minute. Not that she was complaining. This was Yasmin’s fourth year at Goodman, Bloom, Bushenbaum, & Blake’s family law department and only recently did it feel like she was actually being trusted by the partners. Her first two years consisted of mainly paperwork with little direct contact with the clients, while the next two years some smaller clients had been assigned to her. At this pace, she would never be promoted to partner.

  Hers was the exact opposite path than that of Aaron Sprague, the man who she’d be assisting at today’s meeting. He had been the golden boy of the firm from day one and promoted to partner after only two years. He got all the high-profile and lucrative cases.

  So this last-minute call to assist him was a big deal, but something felt off about it. Sprague was notorious for being suspicious to the point of paranoia; and guarded his clients like they were the One Ring from those Hobbit movies. So why was she even asked to be there?

  Biting the inside of her lip Yasmin went over the details of the custody case again in her mind. Douglas Keene and Margery Day had successfully negotiated most of the terms of their divorce under Sprague’s legal prowess but the matter of custody of their two children was still up in the air.

  Yasmin suppressed the sneaky feeling of hope that this just might be the big breakthrough she’d been hoping for. Maybe the senior partners viewed this as an opportunity for Yasmin to get hands-on-training for her own partnership path.

  Yasmin was thirty-one and very aware that she wasn’t getting any younger. She needed to start thinking about growing in the firm towards a partnership career trajectory before it was too late and she ended up like Brendan Hasp, competent but stuck in the same associate position in the firm for the past ten years. She had been killing herself since joining the firm, working eighty-hour weeks on top of weekends in an effort to impress her seniors. Some of her law school classmates were making partner at their firms, and Yasmin had started to wonder if her failure to accomplish the same was proof something was wrong with her.

  The Uber turned into a smaller lane.

  “Where are we?” she frowned.

  It wasn’t the swankiest part of Chicago though it was close enough to the harbor for the smell of lake water to suffuse the air. A lazy suburb, Robertsdale was inoffensive but not the place Yasmin would have picked to start a law practice.

  “Here you are.” The car slowed down and parked on the curb next to a single story building.

  “This can’t be right.” Yasmin shook her head.

  “It’s the address you requested.”

  Yasmin stared at the yellow and blue banner declaring “Krazy Kaplan’s Fireworks – We’ll Blow You Away” in bewilderment. A giant purple inflatable gorilla was mounted on the roof with “Buy 1 Get 2 Free” taped to its chest. It swayed slightly in the spring wind. She checked the address on her phone. There was no doubt about it. This was the pinned location Sprague had sent her.

  Was this some kind of cruel joke?

  “But this isn’t a law office.”

  “If it is, it’s the coolest law office I’ve ever seen,” the driver quipped.

  Yasmin stepped out of the car. Feeling extremely out of place in her suit and high heels she walked to the Fireworks shop with growing trepidation.

  Was Sprague pulling some kind of practical joke on her?

  Yasmin opened the door to the shop and stepped inside to discover a dimly lit place. Odd, for a fireworks factory, she thought. The cramped space was stuffed to the last inch with fireworks of all size and make. There were smoke bombs, cherry bombs, Black Cats, rockets, sparklers, and even tiny toy dynamite sticks.

  A young man sat behind the checkout counter. Everything about him screamed I’m-only-doing-this-because-I-need-money-for-the-summer from the drowsy uninterested eyes, to the headphones encasing his ears.

  “I’m looking for Gretchen Stoltz’s office. Am I in the right place?”

  The boy had a smattering of pink pimples along his chin where a few golden hairs were sprouting peach fuzz. Without removing his headphones and the loud hip-hop music playing, he pointed to the back of the store.

  So this really is the place she’s supposed to be?

  A glass front door met her at the back of the store with the words Gretchen Stoltz, Attorney at Law printed on them. She could hear voices inside.

  Knocking gently, she let herself in.

  The room looked more like a grandmother’s sitting room than a law firm reception area. The chairs were heavily stuffed and upholstered in pink chintz. Framed photographs of happy clients dwarfed the framed certificate of qualification in the middle. The air was perfumed with Glade Pine Fresh.

  Perfectly fitting in with the theme of the room w
as the woman behind the reception desk. A portly woman of middle age with dark red hair and cheeks so used to smiling they were permanent ripe figs in her friendly face ended her call and got up from her chair.

  “How may I help you?”

  “Yes, I’m…”

  “Let me guess: You didn’t expect to find a law firm here, right? No one does. That’s part of our charm.”

  “You’re Gretchen Stoltz?”

  “Gosh, no. I wish I was as smart at Gretchen. No, I’m Linda, her assistant. And you are?”

  “Yasmin Diaz from Goodman Bloom.” Yasmin shook Linda’s soft and warm hand.

  “Goodman, Bloom, Bushenbaum & Blake, right? Quite the mouthful.” Linda giggled.

  “It is,” Yasmin nodded, taken immediately with the folksy Linda. “I’m working with Aaron Sprague on the Margery Day case. Are they already here? I’m abysmally late. I’m so sorry.”

  “No, you’re not late at all, actually.” Linda shook her head. “It’s only twelve fifty.”

  “What?” Yasmin glanced at her watch, which read one-twenty. Which meant it was broken. Again. Cursing it under her breath she focused Linda.

  “Well, I guess I’m early.”

  “That you are.” Linda motioned to one of the cozy chairs. “Why don’t you take a seat. I’m sure everyone else will arrive soon. We have some magazines here and I can get you a coffee. I know what you’re thinking, it’s probably really bland coffee, right? Well, just try it. Sunny says I make the best coffee this side of Wolf Lake. That’s my husband, Sunny. And don’t think he says that because he’s married to me. He can be downright mean about things he doesn’t like. Hates my meatloaf, if you can believe it. I mean, who in their right mind hates meatloaf?”

  She kept up the steady chatter as she walked into the broom closet that had been converted into a small break room.

  Yasmin took the watch off her wrist and shook it. Like many of the things she owned it was secondhand, a family heirloom originally slated for her father but claimed by her when he left. According to her sister Sara this wasn’t the only thing she’d taken over from Papi. Sara believed, despite Yasmin’s great annoyance and denial, that it was their parents’ messy divorce that had led to her choice of career in family law.

  Sure, it hadn’t been easy living with parents who were constantly at each other’s throats. Money was tight and the hearts became tighter. But still, Sara’s conclusions about her career choices were illogical. Every victim of a burned house didn’t become a fireman; nor did those who suffered in accidents become doctors.

  Yasmin practiced family law because she was good at it. It came naturally to her. Being able to step into the remains of a messy marriage and sort it out into a neat divorce gave her a sense of accomplishment that was akin to Marie Kondo decluttering people’s houses. It sparked joy.

  Swallowing the bile of annoyance that arose in her throat every time she thought of her upbringing, Yasmin picked up a magazine to distract herself. It was the latest issue of Chicago Lawyer, and on the cover was a handsome man with the headline “The Devil of Divorce”.

  Yasmin frowned at the cover. There were always copies of Chicago Lawyer around the office but she never bothered to read it. Still, she’d seen enough covers to know this wasn’t what you usually found on it. Most cover images looks like really bad LinkedIn profile shots or stock photos you’d find when Googling “boring lawyers”. This was the complete opposite, and the “Devil” looked like a model. His blond hair was cut in a way that a few strands fell artfully on his forehead; a set of blue eyes sparkled beneath the brow.

  Yasmin couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was leaning casually against a window with the view of the city behind him. His grin was cocky, and the casual way he had tucked his hands in his grey trousers spoke of ease and a privileged upbringing she hadn’t been lucky enough to experience.

  It was probably easy for him to make partner at his firm.

  She knew it was irrational to pin her irritation with her watch and work situation on the stranger on the cover but she was glad when Linda came back into the room with a cup of steaming to distract her from those thoughts.

  She sipped the coffee, trying to figure out how to fake a positive response to what would probably be bad. But, surprisingly, it wasn’t.

  “This is really delicious.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Told you.” Linda beamed, her cheeks blazing crimson.

  Yasmin was halfway done with her coffee and listening to Linda’s detailed narration of her husband’s gallstone problems when a woman walked in through the door. She glanced behind her as the door closed, her short curls bobbing about her cheeks, making her look like a small scared rabbit. She was wearing a long tan overcoat and a dazed expression.

  “Hello!” Linda gave her a cheery greeting. “How may I help you?”

  The woman looked around at the office decor with a hint of distaste twisting her mouth at the corner. “I’m sorry, this is Gretchen Stoltz’s office?”

  “It is indeed,” Linda nodded. “And you must be Margery Day?”

  “I am.”

  “Gretchen is in her office meeting with her client at the moment but she’ll be ready for you two in about five minutes.”

  “The two of us?” Margery glanced at Yasmin and frowned.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Day,” Yasmin rose and shook her hand. “I’m Yasmin Diaz. I’m assisting Aaron Sprague on your case.”

  Relief washed over Margery’s face and she looked much younger for it. “Finally. I requested someone new weeks ago.”

  So that’s why she had been assigned the case. Yasmin tried not to look too pleased by this information.

  “I’m sorry. Maybe I wasn’t clear,” Yasmin motioned for Margery to take a seat. Linda trotted back to the break room to make another round of coffees. “I’m not taking over the case entirely. I don’t think so, at least. I’m here to help Mr. Sprague. I think.”

  “As long as there’s another person on my side who doesn’t bulldoze everything I say I’m happy.”

  “Of course not. I’m here to serve you.”

  Margery smoothed the sides of her coat. “Can you believe this place?” she motioned to their surroundings. “I know Douglas isn’t in the best of financial situations but he must be completely broke if he’s hiring a lawyer with an office inside a fireworks shop.”

  Yasmin recalled from her very brief reading that Margery had been the breadwinner in the family. Her husband, meanwhile, was a contract construction employee that had difficulty finding steady work over the years.

  Margery sighed and rubbed the sides of her face with her hands. She looked tired; dark circles ringed the underside of her eyes, and the lines around her mouth only highlighted her puffy cheeks.

  “I’m going to do my best to help you out.”

  “I just want this over with.”

  “Divorces are rough. Trust me, I know.”

  “We’re just going to be happier when things are official. I know we will.”

  Yasmin placed a comforting hand on Margery’s arm. Her own parents’ divorce had brought Yasmin and her sister Sara to the brink of a mental breakdown so she could empathize.

  “We’ll make sure you and children get what you all deserve. We have a very good case to get you full custody, Ms. Day.”

  “Well, Sprague keeps saying that. But I don’t think he actually cares about that. I think he just wants to win and get everything,” Margery snapped, exasperated.

  Nonplussed by the sudden outburst, Yasmin removed her hand and assessed the situation before her. She obviously hadn’t been given the right briefing.

  “So you don’t want full custody?”

  “I do. I think so. I don’t know. I just worry that Douglas won’t be able to provide for them and I’ll end up doing everything. Which is exactly what I’ve been doing already.”

  “I can make sure this is as amicable as possible.”

 
“It’s not going to be amicable,” Margery snorted. “Douglas will make sure of that. But yes, I want it to be as unnasty as possible for Luke and Jake.”

  “I think I can manage that,” Yasmin smiled.

  “Well, if you’re anything like Sprague or any other lawyer I’ve ever dealt with, doubt that.”

  Yasmin was about to defend herself and her profession when Aaron Sprague burst through the door like an oversized bat, his dark overcoat swishing behind him like a cape.

  Everything about Sprague was elongated. Yasmin imagined he’d been stretched out with a rolling pin when he was younger because he looked stretched. His nose was long, his face was long though he had a weak chin, and even his fingers were longer than most. He stood a comfortable head taller than Yasmin, and she was pretty tall herself.

  He turned to bark at Linda. “Tell Stoltz I’m here. And don’t even think of keeping my client and I waiting.”

  “I’ll let her know you’re here,” Linda jumped in her chair, obviously cowed by the tall man glaring down at her.

  Sprague turned his face to regard the women in the waiting area and his calculating eyes narrowed as they swiveled between Yasmin and Margery, but his mouth smiled.

  “I see you two have met?” The hand holding his leather briefcase tightened so the knuckles turned white.

  “We were just discussing the case,” Yasmin began but Sprague cut her off.

  “Without the lead counsel?” Sprague laughed. It was brittle and devoid of humor.

  Sprague was everything she didn’t like about the law. She wasn’t naïve enough to believe that it was a noble and pure profession but Sprague thrived in the shady backroom deals, and had no particular affinity to the pursuit of justice as long as he billed his hours and the client paid.

  Lawyers were called sharks but even sharks have an honor code. Aaron Sprague reminded Yasmin more of a rat, slinking in the sewers for unsavory leavings, duplicitous, and untrustworthy.