by Carrie Elks
Lucy shook her head slowly. ‘No, I don’t believe so. But I should warn you, the wheels of our judicial system are slow. The claim could be caught up in court for a while, and this could end up very expensive for you.’
‘I don’t care how much it costs,’ he said, leaning forward with a serious expression. ‘I’ll pay whatever it takes. I want to win.’
3
There is a tide in the affairs of men, which,
taken on the flood, leads on to fortune
– Julius Caesar
The waiter cleared away their plates, leaving the table empty save for their glasses and Lucy’s notepad. Lachlan watched as she moved her pen across the blank page, black ink staining white, her handwriting as perfectly formed as the rest of her. If he’d thought she was attractive when he first saw her, right now she was so much more, with her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed in concentration.
She finished writing and looked up, popping the lid back on her pen. Two lines appearing above her nose as she gave him a questioning look. ‘Why do you think your father left you the estate?’ she asked him.
He’d been thinking about that himself, ever since he’d sat in the attorney’s office and heard his father’s bequest. It was hard not to wince at that memory, as he recalled his half-brother’s angry surprise. Duncan had thought he was going to inherit everything – and Lachlan had thought the same. Why would an illegitimate, unwanted son be left a single thing, let alone a castle in the Highlands of Scotland? He closed his eyes, thinking about that sandstone building in the middle of another country, about the mirror-like loch and the green forest that led up to the craggy mountains. How long was it since he’d visited? It had to be more than twenty years. And yet the thought of it made his heart beat a little faster, bringing back memories he’d long since buried.
‘I don’t know,’ he said truthfully. The waiter slid their coffee cups in front of them, both Lachlan and Lucy having declined a dessert. ‘The only thing I can think of was that the times I visited I was happy there. He must have seen that.’
‘Did he ever talk about leaving it to you before he died?’ she asked.
‘No. I didn’t speak with my father very much, not after I came of age. He wasn’t that interested in me.’
It didn’t hurt to say it – not the way it used to. And he was pleased at the way she didn’t flinch at all – the last thing he wanted was sympathy. He’d come to terms with his relationship with his father. What was done was done.
‘And what about the rest of your family?’ she asked. ‘Was there an assumption among them that Duncan would inherit?’
‘We always knew he’d inherit my father’s business,’ Lachlan said. ‘He was groomed to take over the cruise line from the earliest age. But I don’t remember the estate in Scotland ever being mentioned. Compared to the business, it was small fry.’
In money, perhaps, but not so much in meaning. His father had grown up on the estate, after all. It was their heritage – his and Duncan’s – and only one of them could have it.
The thought of losing to Duncan felt like a knife in the heart.
‘Okay, that’s about all the questions I have for now,’ Lucy said, offering him a smile. ‘If you decide you want me to act for you, I’ll draw up a plan of action, and then we can talk next steps.’ Her voice had become hoarse from talking so much. She took a sip of water. ‘Do you have any questions for me?’ she asked him.
About a thousand.
‘What are my chances of success?’
She smiled at his question. ‘Honestly? I can’t give you a firm answer. But as you’re the one named in the will, it’s up to your brother to prove his case. And unless he can show coercion, or bring up case law that supports him, then he’s going to lose.’
They’d both finished their coffee – and the waiter appeared almost immediately, stealing their cups away with a flourish. Lachlan asked for the check – not that he needed to pay, but at least he needed to sign. Everything in his businesses was done above board.
When the waiter took away the check, and Lucy had put her notes back into her briefcase, they both stood up. Lachlan felt reluctant to say goodbye, knowing that tomorrow she’d be on a flight to London and he’d be speeding his way back to New York. All those questions he had were still swirling around his mind, fighting for supremacy. And that exhaustion he’d felt earlier had disappeared, replaced by an edginess, and a need to find out more about the woman next to him.
‘Thank you for a lovely meal,’ she said. ‘Please feel free to email me if you think of anything else. And let me know if you want me to take on your case.’
Lachlan frowned at her question. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’ he asked her.
Standing up, their height difference was so much more obvious. He towered above her, in spite of her heels. She had to lift her head up to look at him. ‘It’s clear this inheritance is important to you. You wouldn’t have flown me all the way here if it wasn’t. Choosing the right representation isn’t just about getting the best, but about finding somebody you can trust.’
Her eyes flashed as she spoke, and he took a step forward until there was only a couple of feet between them. He scanned her face, studying her, though her expression gave nothing away. There was the merest hint of a scar that disappeared beneath her hair, and he found himself wondering what had caused it. ‘You want me to trust you?’ His voice was low.
Her eyes never left his. ‘Yes,’ she said, nodding slowly. ‘Or this won’t work at all.’
‘Then I trust you,’ he said. ‘And I’d like you to represent me on this case.’
As they walked towards the exit, he felt the strongest urge to put his hand in the small of her back, but he clenched his fist tightly, keeping his arm by his side. She was his attorney, not his date, for God’s sake.
They made it to the lobby. They were both staying in the hotel, in different rooms, on different floors. And it felt awkward lingering in the marble-clad hall, neither one of them quite willing to say goodbye.
‘It’s late,’ he said, glancing at the clock above the reception desk. ‘You must be tired, with all the travelling.’
She glanced at the bank of elevators to her left, nodding. ‘It’s been a long day,’ she agreed. ‘I should get back to my room, and call my boyfriend before I go to bed.’ She offered him the smallest of smiles. ‘I haven’t had a chance yet, and he’ll want to know I arrived safely.’
‘And I’ve got some work to do before bedtime.’ He reached his hand out, shaking hers before stepping backward and giving her a final smile. ‘Thank you again for taking the time to meet with me.’
‘It was a pleasure, Lachlan.’
He liked the way his name sounded on her tongue, the first part sounding more like ‘loch’ than ‘lach’. It reminded him of his childhood, of a life when things didn’t seem so complicated, and everybody wasn’t constantly vying for his attention.
‘Good night, Lucy,’ he said, giving her one final glance. She was looking straight at him, and their gazes locked. For a moment he could hear the blood rushing through his ears, blocking out the sounds of the hotel. He smiled, and her lips slowly curled up, making her look more enticing than ever.
‘Sleep tight, Lachlan.’
As soon as the elevator doors closed behind her, Lucy leaned her head on the mirrored wall, holding on to the handrail as it began to ascend. Though he was in the lobby, she could still smell his cologne, still see that dimpled smile. She’d never met somebody with so much presence, with such an easy ability to take her breath away. He was danger, dressed in a designer suit.
And her response to him scared her to death.
Was that why she’d lied to him about having a boyfriend? To provide her with a barrier, something to stop her from being caught up in an attraction that was almost impossible to ignore? She shook her head, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirrored wall. This was so unlike her it wasn’t funny. She was always calm, in control, and she never crossed bou
ndaries. Lachlan MacLeish was a client, no matter how attractive he was. She needed to remember that.
Lifting her hand up, she smoothed her hair back, squaring her shoulders as the elevator approached her floor. She could do this – could be the professional she always had been. He might have been the most handsome man she’d laid eyes on, but she was better than that. And so was her professional reputation.
The elevator pinged, and she walked out onto her floor, pulling her room card out of her case and sliding it into the lock. And as she stepped inside, pulling off her shoes and carefully placing them into the closet, she felt a sense of relief wash over her.
A good night’s sleep would do her the world of good. Then she’d fly back home, and get back to her work, leaving Lachlan MacLeish thousands of miles away.
Life would go on, just the way she liked it, and that would be the end of that.
4
As they say, ‘When the age is in, the wit is out’
– Much Ado About Nothing
‘You missed a few calls. The list is on your desk,’ Lachlan’s assistant, Grant, said, following Lachlan into his office. He leaned down, pulling open the small refrigerator beside the bookcase, and took out a bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap, he filled up a long glass and put it on Lachlan’s desk. ‘How was your workout?’
Lachlan grabbed a fresh towel from the cupboard hidden in the far wall of the room. His office had a small bathroom attached, perfect for cleaning up after his lunchtime training. ‘Hard. That’s what happens when you miss a few weeks.’
Grant Tanaka was a year younger than Lachlan, but had been by his side since the day he’d set up in business, the same way they’d been for most of their lives. They’d grown up in next-door apartments – Grant was the child of Japanese-American parents who had practically adopted Lachlan as one of their own. With Lachlan’s mom working all the hours God sent, the Tanakas had made sure he was fed, did his homework, and didn’t get into trouble.
Well, not too much trouble, anyway.
‘I forgot to ask you, how was Miami?’ Grant asked him.
‘Warmer than this place, that’s for sure.’ Through the plate-glass window of his office, Lachlan could see the New York skyline. Grey, overcast, barely acknowledging the fact that spring was supposed to have arrived. ‘It was worth it just to meet the Scottish attorney. Hopefully we managed to strategise the Glencarraig case.’
Grant cocked an eyebrow. ‘You’re still stuck on this Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod thing?’
‘Hey, don’t knock it. According to this attorney, I get to intervene in clan disputes.’
‘There can be only one.’
‘Are you going to quote Highlander to me all day, or can I go grab a shower before my next meeting?’
‘Yeah, you really should do that.’ Grant screwed his nose up. ‘You stink. Go.’
‘Thanks, man.’
‘Oh, and Jenn wants to know if you can make dinner a week on Friday. She’s making sushi.’
Lachlan looked back over his shoulder at Grant. ‘In that case, it’s a date. A gorgeous woman and gorgeous food are too good to turn down.’
Grant lifted his hands up. ‘Hey, that’s my wife you’re talking about. I’ll be there too.’
Lachlan winked. ‘I know, I know. But when she makes sushi, I don’t have eyes for anybody else.’
‘Yeah, well keep your eyes to yourself,’ Grant warned, still grinning. ‘That girl is mine.’ He glanced at his watch then back at Lachlan. ‘Best hurry, your next meeting’s in ten minutes.’ Suddenly, they were back to being boss and assistant.
‘I’m on it.’
‘You want me to bring you in a coffee?’ Grant asked, turning to leave the room.
‘Sure thing.’
Lachlan watched as Grant walked out of his office, pulling the door softly closed behind him. Not for the first time he felt a strange combination of envy and confusion when it came to his friend. In the years since they’d been working together he’d tried to promote him countless times, knowing Grant would make an excellent director. But Grant refused, telling Lachlan he preferred to have a work–life balance that allowed him to spend time with his wife.
He was a great assistant, and Lachlan’s oldest friend. Some would say his only friend. Either way, Lachlan was glad to keep him around, even if it meant being constantly nagged.
The lights in the outer office were dimmed, Grant having long since gone home. The rest of the floor was silent too, save for the occasional ring of a phone that wasn’t answered, and the stealthy footsteps of the cleaning crew as they gave the desks the once-over, emptying trash cans and filling up the water coolers before they wheeled their trollies away.
Behind him, through the floor-to-ceiling glass, darkness had descended over Manhattan. The hum of the traffic had quietened, and Lachlan didn’t need to look out to see that every second car was a cab. Full of people leaving work and heading out for dinner, and tourists exploring the city while the cab drivers fleeced them.
Not Lachlan, though. It was one of the rare evenings when he didn’t have a late-night meeting or a business dinner.
He picked up his phone, intending to scroll through his contacts, then put it down again. The thought of an evening on the town didn’t light him up with enthusiasm – the opposite, if anything. It must be the jet lag, the heightened emotions of his father’s funeral and the surprise of his bequest. Maybe an early night would do him better, instead.
He reached forward to give his emails one final check before he switched off his laptop for the night. Clicking on his mouse, he scrolled through the updates, the circulars, the invitations – each one personally scrutinised by Grant before he’d passed them on.
Halfway down, he saw a message from Lucy Shakespeare. Raising an eyebrow, he clicked on it, his eyes scanning the content.
Dear Lachlan,
Many thanks for dinner on Monday, and for taking the time to meet with me. Attached to this email is a client care letter, outlining the terms of our agreement and the fees you’ll be charged. Please read through it carefully, and return one signed copy to me. A scanned version will be fine.
As agreed, I’ll send you a strategy document by the end of the week, and perhaps we can then arrange a videoconference to discuss next steps.
Kind regards,
Lucy Shakespeare
It was a simple business message, brief and concise, yet he could hear every word in her elegant English accent.
He glanced at his watch, twisting his arm until it appeared above the line of his shirt cuffs. It was seven thirty in New York, which made it past midnight in Edinburgh. He let his mind wander for a moment, remembering the way she’d looked when he stepped into the restaurant. The way she held herself, her chin pointed up, revealing the perfect lines of her profile against the backdrop of the inky sky. She was as intriguing as hell, and beautiful with it.
Yeah, and she’s also your attorney.
Shaking his head, he reached forward to switch off his laptop, then rolled his chair back and got up to grab his jacket. He was in a funk after his father’s death, that was all. Nothing more than that. He grabbed his phone from his pocket, clicking on the contacts and placing a call. When the woman on the other end picked up, he was walking out of his office and heading over to the bank of elevators on the other side.
‘Hey, Julia,’ he said, his voice echoing down the line. ‘It’s Lachlan. I was just heading off to my club and I thought of you. Would you like to join me for a drink?’
5
I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream
– Henry IV, Part I
Lucy turned her key in the lock, opening the black-painted door to her smart Edinburgh apartment. It smelled of polish and cleaning cream – Elena must have given the flat the once-over that morning. She’d left Lucy’s mail in a pile on the table by the entrance way, plus a fresh vase of spring flowers. One of the perks of having a cleaning service.
With the door wide ope
n, she turned to grab her suitcase, as a flash of orange and white dashed across the tiled hallway. A small, tabby cat slid past Lucy’s legs, her fur soft against Lucy’s calves. She lingered for a moment then made a dash for the warmth of the apartment.
‘Come here, cheeky,’ Lucy crooned, grabbing hold of the pint-sized feline. ‘There’s nothing for you in here. Where did you come from anyway?’
As she gently placed her back in the hall, the cat purred, her body vibrating against Lucy’s hands. Standing back up, Lucy went to grab her case and walk inside, and of course the cat ran back in before she could stop her.
Even with an intruder inside, stepping into her apartment made Lucy smile. She loved this place – had done ever since she’d bought it five years ago. A converted Georgian townhouse, in the heart of Edinburgh’s New Town, her home was an elegantly decorated two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment, with a huge, modern kitchen that she hardly ever used. Though she liked the pale painted walls and the polished wooden floors, the thing that sold it to her when she first saw it had been the garden. A small, walled escape, filled with greenery, it was her favourite place to spend the afternoon in the summer.