The Charmer’s Gambit (Mershano Empire Book 2)

by Lexi C. Foss

  Then things started to change.

  The signs were always there, but I didn’t understand them. He showered me with love and affection, and I thought it was the rigorousness of law school keeping me from seeing my friends and family. But it was him. Always him. And when I finally broke and told him I couldn’t take it anymore, he punished me. Severely. After I regained consciousness, I called the only person I trusted to help. Mark.

  My neck ached just thinking about that day.

  Three years ago, I swore never to be that weak woman again, and I’d avoided powerful, high-handed men ever since.

  Until Will.

  The thought of him sent a chill down my spine.

  Did Ryan see us together? Is that why he’s here now?

  He always found out about my dates in the past, which was one of the reasons I stopped going out with men. The one time I tried a one-night stand, it also ended badly, hence my vow of celibacy.

  I wasn’t entirely sure how Ryan knew so much, but I suspected he had someone following me. Or maybe he used electronic means to monitor my movements. Both alternatives unnerved me and left me in a constant state of caution. I thought twice about every email I sent, and I refused every come-on regardless of whether I wanted the man or not. Sarah understood more than most, but I never told her everything. Not even close.

  His hand slipped to the back of my neck as he tried to pull me in for a kiss. My palms went to his chest, holding him back. The fact that he let me was an indicator of his mood.

  “Ryan,” I managed, throat dry. “Sarah will be back any minute.” A complete lie, one that would surely cost me later if he ever found out. “It’s her last night in the city.”

  “Ah, girls’ night in, then?”

  “Yes.”

  That seemed to appease him, which indicated he didn’t know about dinner at La Rosas. Not yet, anyway.

  “Well, I suppose I can allow that. But I want to see you later this week. There’s a fundraiser on Friday night, and I need a date.”

  I barely suppressed my snort. “We’re not dating, Ryan.”

  “So come with me as a friend.” His reasonable tone was one he used often with his colleagues. Not me. Which was why I hesitated before replying. What are you up to?

  “I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” I said slowly.

  His brow furrowed. “Why?”

  Because I hate you.

  Because you ruined my life.

  Because you scare the shit out of me.

  If there was a door separating us, I would say any number of those things. But we were both standing in my apartment, alone. And face-to-face. He wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me, and calling the police wasn’t an option. Ryan had too many friends in high places.

  “Because I’m not ready,” was my lame excuse.

  He sighed and dropped his hand into a fist at his side. “Not this again. You’re not getting any younger, Rachel. When are we going to move past this?”

  I bristled a little at that but managed to bite my tongue. Years of experience dealing with him kept me in line. “I’m only thirty, Ryan.” If anyone is getting older, it’s you. Though, he still looked the same as he did twelve years ago when we met during my freshman year at Northwestern. He was a senior at the time.

  “And,” I continued, “I don’t know if I’m ready to start things up with you again. You’re busy with work, right? It’s been a few months since I last saw you.”

  I kept a hopeful note in my voice, encouraging him to talk about his political aspirations instead of us. It worked, as he dove into a fifteen-minute diatribe about his campaign schedule for the US Senate. The current republican in office was stepping down in two years, and Ryan seemed the obvious choice. It chilled me how many people couldn’t see through his pretentious facade, but then I remembered I used to be one of them.

  “Okay, baby girl. If you’re not ready for this Friday, then fine. I understand that it’s short notice. But I need you to start attending functions with me.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You understand, right?”

  I hated those three words. Especially from him.

  I didn’t understand why he seemed hell-bent on destroying my life. What did I do to deserve it? But I nodded anyway and bit my lip to keep it from trembling.

  It was amazing how I could go from having a mostly fun evening, to torment, in the span of seconds. What would have happened if I let Will in before Ryan arrived?

  Nothing good.

  “That’s my girl,” Ryan murmured, kissing me on the forehead like I was five. “I’ll call you later this week or have my secretary send you an agenda, okay?”

  I nodded again, but I had no intention of following through with anything. And knowing Ryan, he’d forget to call me anyway. He usually did. Then he’d show up again in a month or two, demanding the same thing.

  But something was different about the way he looked at me this time. The way he gently brushed his fingers down my cheek to the base of my neck. He usually tried to kiss me now, but instead, he trailed his nails down to my hand and gave it a light squeeze.

  “Soon, baby. Soon.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. I opened my mouth to tell him, but as always, the words clogged in my throat. I hated how inferior he made me feel, how childish and alone.

  My stomach knotted as heat caressed my neck. I faced men like him every day and always held my ground, but Ryan crumbled my resolve with a single look. Maybe it was because I let him inside my heart and allowed him to dampen my fire and crush my dreams. No one else ever came close, a defense mechanism I put in place after picking up the pieces of my life. But the second he waltzed through the door, I went back to that place he left me in, and quivered like a little girl. His little girl.

  He brushed my cheek once more and let himself out. I stood shivering in the foyer, staring after him with a mix of fury and fear. My fists curled, and my desire to break something took over. I picked up the closest thing to me, a vase filled with flowers Evan bought Sarah earlier this week, and shattered it against the door.

  “Fuck you,” I managed, seething both at myself for my weakness and at the man who put me here. Just when I thought my old self had finally resurfaced, Ryan tore it down.

  This was why I couldn’t say yes to Will’s proposal. No matter how much he sweetened the deal, I would never work for him. I already had one dominant man ruling my life. Two would absolutely destroy me.

  3

  Coffee with Cream & Sugar

  I studied my blue eyes in the compact mirror at my desk. They didn’t look as tired as I felt, thanks to my morning date with the makeup bag. I hated foundation but needed it to cover my sleepless weekend.

  Ryan’s unexpected visit, coupled with Sarah’s surprise goodbye visit early Sunday morning, meant I hadn’t rested at all. My ears were acutely tuned to every single noise in my apartment building, causing me to jump at the oddest of sounds.

  Like the dinging of the elevator down the hall.

  I closed my door when I entered my office, but the damn binging went off every minute as my colleagues arrived. If my assistant hadn’t called me about the last-minute meeting on my calendar this morning, I would have opted to work from home. The vagueness of the invite made me frown.

  Urgent Meeting: All Hands on Deck.

  Not a useful title, but at least I had a location and a time.

  I slipped on my black pumps and grabbed my jacket from the hanger behind the door. Skirt suits were pretty, but I preferred comfort while I worked. Hence my habit of kicking off my shoes and wandering around in stockings. Not exactly work-appropriate attire for a meeting, though.

  The conference rooms were located on the top floor with the executive offices, a place I rarely visited. Baker Brown LLP was one of the largest firms in the country with over 1,500 attorneys, and offices all over the world. They only recruited from top-tier law schools—including my alma mater, Northwestern—and had a reputation for being one of the top firms in
the United States. Meetings on this floor with fourth-year associates were rare at best.

  I stopped by the receptionist’s desk to check in and was met by Janine Lawson. I recognized the petite redhead immediately as Jeff Dower’s assistant. I shook her hand as a cold sensation trickled down my spine. Why is a partner’s assistant greeting me like she knows me?

  “This way, please, Miss Dawson,” she murmured.

  I wiped my suddenly clammy hands against my black skirt and followed her down a hallway of windows overlooking the Loop. When we arrived at a set of glass doors, my stomach flipped. Janet Bishop, another of the firm’s partners, stood on the other side, chatting with Jeff. Her white suit popped against her ebony skin, and her teeth were equally bright as she flashed us a welcoming smile.

  “Are you sure this is the right meeting?” I whispered.

  “Yes, Miss Dawson. They’re expecting you.” Janine gestured for me to enter.

  Right. Okay. I’d operated on less sleep before. I could handle this. They probably had a brief question about an existing client, and then I’d be sent back to my office to hide. All my cases were up to date or ahead of schedule, and no one had ever complained about my work. No need for concern.

  I entered with the calmest demeanor I could muster. It wasn’t every day I met with the most powerful attorneys in the country, but confidence was key.

  “Ah, Rachel, thank you for joining us this morning.”

  Holy shit. Jeff Dowers knows my name. “Good morning, Mister Dowers. I’m happy to be here.” I think. “Miss Bishop.”

  “Good morning,” she replied, shaking my hand. It was firm and exactly what I expected from a woman in her position. “I believe you’ve already met Will Mershano.”

  The smile slipped from my face as she motioned to the man sitting at the head of the table. His hands were clasped in front of him as he observed the exchange with an amused expression. I had been so consumed with the partners that I hadn’t noticed the third person in the room, which was a bit of a miracle considering his attire.

  Holy cow, the man cleaned up nicely. I’d only ever seen him in jeans and T-shirts, even on the days he visited my office. Those were nice, but this suit . . . Wow. Talk about tailored to perfection. He smoothed his dark tie as he stood and walked around the table to shake my hand. His palm smoldered against mine, a feat considering the warmth radiating across my skin.

  “Miss Dawson,” he greeted. “A pleasure as always.”

  My mouth opened, closed, and then reopened. What the hell are you doing here? were the words I wanted to say, but, “Mister Mershano,” popped out instead. At least my brain had the wherewithal to remember our audience. I frowned at that last bit.

  Hold on . . .

  His eyes danced with mirth as he watched my sleep-fogged mind catch up with my surroundings. A meeting on the executive floor with two partners and Will Mershano dressed in a suit . . . Oh no.

  “Shall we get started?” he asked before I could comment. His focus had gone to the partners behind me.

  “Of course,” Jeff replied.

  Will tugged on my hand, reminding me that I had yet to let him go, and flickered his gaze to a seat beside the one he just vacated at the table. A cup of coffee and a doughnut rested in front of it. Given he had his own travel mug next to his leather portfolio, I guessed he had procured the breakfast items for me.

  How thoughtful. Or maybe not. Because what the hell was he thinking setting up this meeting?

  My feet moved on autopilot to the spot he saved for me, and my hands wrapped around the hot mug. Oh, caffeine, how I love thee. I took a fortifying sip and fought a groan. He had added just the right amount of cream and sugar.

  The man’s memory when it came to my preferences astounded me. After I first refused his employment offer, he showed up at my apartment holding a bag of my favorite Chinese cuisine. He only knew about my love of Szechuan chicken because it was what I ordered the first night we met, and yet he remembered. No wonder the man owned a multimillion-dollar winery.

  “Thank you again for meeting with me on such short notice,” Will started. “As I mentioned over the phone, Mershano Vineyards is in the market for a firm to advise on some international acquisitions and manage the relations going forward. It’s my understanding that Baker Brown’s corporate and securities practice is one of the best.” He flashed me a grin as he repeated my words from the other night before returning his focus to Jeff and Janet. “So I’m here to learn more.”

  My heart dropped to my stomach. That grin, coupled with the way Janet eyed me now, confirmed that Will had told them who he took his advice from on setting up this meeting. Meaning I would be either thanked handsomely after this or sacked, depending on whether or not Will moved forward. But maybe his hiring the firm would be a good thing. They could pair him with a more appropriate lawyer, and he would get his legal advice and then leave me alone.

  I expected to smile with the realization, but my mouth curled in the opposite direction. An odd reaction to something I thought I wanted.

  Jeff launched into a presentation reviewing Baker Brown’s history and statistics, focusing mostly on the handling of acquisitions and client satisfaction. The spiel had been tailored to Mershano Vineyards since he discussed cross-border deals and industry-specific issues related to Will’s business, like alcohol trade laws. Our marketing team had done an amazing job, and Jeff’s delivery was phenomenal.

  “Excellent,” Will said after the last slide. He launched into a set of technical questions that surprised me. Someone had done his homework. This business-savvy side of him was one I had only caught glimpses of during our discussions, but I knew it existed beneath the surface.

  Evan was the one the family groomed for the Mershano Suites legacy, while Will went off on his own to create his own empire. And from what I’d seen, the man had done one hell of a job. Of course, he had all the right connections through his last name, not to mention whatever inheritance he received, but still, seeing him in action proved that his determination and intelligence played a big part in his success.

  “And if I went with your firm,” he continued, “who would be Mershano Vineyards’s primary point of contact?”

  “Likely myself or Janet,” Jeff replied, his fingers lacing together on the table. His expression remained all business, but a hint of excitement shone in his hazel eyes. Will’s name alone made him a huge client, but it was his connections to Evan that really intrigued the Baker Brown partners.

  “I see.” Will tapped his chin and looked to me. “I was rather hoping to work with Rachel, given she’s the reason I’m sitting here today.”

  My lips parted in shock. What the hell was he thinking? He had to be crazy coming in here and requesting an associate for a project that deserved a partner-level attorney. My experience paled in comparison to the two people sitting opposite us. I met their surprised gazes and fought the urge to cringe. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one astonished by Will’s request.

  “That’s certainly something we can discuss, but our associates are not typically assigned as the point of contact; however, they might work on aspects of the project as a team.” Janet’s smooth response was well practiced and far more eloquent than the words rolling around in my mind.

  “I can appreciate that, but I’ve seen Rachel in action. Unfortunately, a nondisclosure agreement keeps me from going into the details, although I can say that she impressed not only me but my cousin Evan and our family attorney, Garrett Wilkinson.”

  That statement had Jeff breaking his composure and lifting both eyebrows at me. “Which project was this?”

  Oh, shit . . . Attorneys helped friends all the time, but seeing as Baker Brown paid my malpractice insurance, they would not appreciate knowing about it. Especially considering who had been on the other side of the table.

  I cleared my throat. “It, uh, wasn’t a project, but a favor for a friend. I can’t go into the specifics because of the NDA, but I read through a few things on he
r behalf. Nothing company related, just a personal agreement.”

  Jeff scratched the salt-and-pepper beard lining his jaw. The term silver fox suited him well. “That’s how you two met?” he asked.

  “Yes.” No point in elaborating.

  More massaging of his chin as he studied me. “Hmm, well, we typically frown upon our associates doing work outside of the firm, even as favors for friends, but considering it brought Will to us, I guess we can let this slide.”

  I swallowed. The words “for now” hung in the air. Which meant that if Will went with a different firm, we’d be having a more serious discussion, but if he chose Baker Brown, they’d ignore it.

  No pressure.

  Will and his fucking mouth were going to cost me my job.

  “So what would it take to have her be my primary point of contact?” Will asked, lacing his fingers over his leather binder, completely at ease. “Or at the very least, be my on-site legal representation as needed?”

  My jaw threatened to unhinge. This wasn’t the same as asking me to move to North Carolina, but it certainly came close to it. Except I wouldn’t have to live there. Nor would I be working directly for him. Clever bastard. He found a loophole around both of my reasons for turning him down, and he went over my head. If the firm assigned me this project, I would have to accept or commit career suicide.

  His high-handedness made me sick to my stomach. This deal would force me into a corner with no way out and place him in a position of power over me. I should have expected this tactic. A man like Will got what he wanted, just like all the other rich men in this world.

  You’re nothing but a puppet . . .

  I shivered as Ryan’s voice slid through my mind. Not now.

  “As I said, typically a partner is the primary contact, but if you prefer to work directly with Miss Dawson, we could assign her as the lead attorney on the project. She would need to work with one of us, at least in terms of advice and general management, but could serve as your lead counsel. And we could arrange for her to be on-site as needed, whether that be in North Carolina or internationally.” Janet looked at me. “We would need to clear your workload and meet off-line to review the details.”