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

by Alexa Davis

  "I think the boss will understand the delay, don't you?" he asked again with the hint of a smile playing at the edge of his lips.

  "Yes, sir," I said as I looked down and then wondered if I should get in the car or just keep walking.

  "Why don't you get in the car and give my driver the address?" he asked as if reading my thoughts. I nodded and walked over to the car and opened the door. When I slid into the backseat, I could smell Max's cologne, a mix of clean freshness with just a hint of musk and it made my pulse begin to race. "Ms. Wallace, the address?"

  "Oh, right, 1344 North Dearborn," I told the driver. He nodded and began driving around the block. I looked over at Max and told him, "You can call me Lexi, you know."

  "Alright, Lexi." He smiled as he looked at me. His eyes were a cooler shade of blue than I'd first thought, and I was very self-conscious of the fact that I simply couldn't look away from them. "How was your evening?"

  "It was nice," I said swallowing hard to keep my breathing even. I used a method we'd learned in acting class and slowly breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. That calmed my nerves a bit and I told him about dinner and drinks with Viv at The Gage. The driver pulled up in front of my building and I quickly got out calling, "I'll be right back!" as I made a dash for the front door.

  Anna chirped happily as I entered the apartment and grabbed my wallet. I warned, "Don't get excited; I'm not staying, little one!" to where she sat in the entryway in front of the door. I stopped for a moment, picked her up, and snuggled her before setting her back down. Satisfied, she chirped and headed for the bedroom. "Silly little girl!" I called as I headed back downstairs.

  The drive to work was quick, so the talk was kept to a minimum, but as Max answered his emails, I tried to come up with a topic of conversation that would give me some clue as to who Max Malin was and why in the world he'd hired me to work for him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Max

  I kept my eyes on my email and worked at a steady pace as the car carried Lexi and me to the store. I fought against the desire to spend the whole ride looking at her because every time I did, I felt a wave of attraction wash over me and the result made me feel conspicuous. I was her boss, and it was inappropriate for me to see her as a romantic opportunity, but no matter how many times I'd told myself it was out of bounds, I still came back to the fact that she stirred a primal urge in me.

  Today, she was dressed in a deep blue wrap dress that clung to her curves and reminded me of why I was extremely glad to be a man. Her hair was again pulled away from her face, giving her an intellectual appearance. I'd always been attracted to smart women, and dressed the way she was, Lexi definitely looked the part. I had a feeling that when I opened the doors for business, she was going to be one of the biggest assets in the store.

  "So, did you see the news about that shooting over on the West side?" she blurted out. "That's some crazy drama, isn't it? It really makes you wonder about what's underlying the whole feud, doesn't it?"

  "Why do you say that?" I asked as I tried to maintain a calm exterior. I was now on high alert as the thought that she might be an undercover agent sent to scope me out crossed my mind. There were a lot of people who had been after my father for a lot of years, and while he'd done his best to keep Kristov and me out of the heavier things he was involved in, there were those who knew all about us and would have given their right arms to take one of us down.

  "I was just thinking about how a feud like that even gets started," she said as she brushed invisible lint off of her skirt. "Why would people of the same background be out to kill each other? I mean, doesn't it make more sense for them to join forces and present a strong front, rather than offing each other in the streets?"

  "I'm sure I wouldn't know," I replied as I wracked my brain for a way to turn the conversation away from this topic. I had no desire to talk about Russian mafia gang history with Lexi.

  "It just seems like this is a lot like the same thing that happened on the West side in the 1970s with the Vice Lords," she offered. "They started out trying to tie the neighborhood together and strengthen the community, and for a while they succeeded, but then someone got greedy and power hungry and the whole structure fell to pieces."

  "You seem to know a lot about Chicago," I commented.

  "I minored in history, and as part of the program, we had to take two semesters of Chicago history," she said cheerfully. "They were really great classes. I felt like I had a much better understanding of the city and how it came to be once I'd completed them."

  "I'll bet," I nodded. "Where did you go to school?"

  "Northwestern," she replied.

  "Did you like it?" I asked.

  "I did, very much," she sighed. "I miss it sometimes, you know? I miss the whole feeling of being in a place where learning is going on and feeling like you're part of it. I miss the community and the security of being a student, even though I was dirt poor the whole time I was there. There's something noble about poor students and starving artists."

  "There's nothing noble about poverty unless your privileged enough to be able to reject it as you claim it," I shot back in an annoyed tone.

  "I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" she asked genuinely surprised at my strong response.

  "No, I just get sick of hearing rich college students say that they love being poor, when they don't have the first clue as to what that actually means," I said, failing to work my way to more even ground in the conversation.

  "Just because you think that all college students are rich kids, doesn't actually make it true, you know," she replied in a bristled tone as she sat up straight and looked at me with narrowed eyes.

  "I wasn't saying that all American college students were rich kids," I retorted. "I was saying I was sick of the rich ones saying they were poor when they aren't, in fact, poor!"

  "Well, I didn't grow up rich!" she yelled.

  "I didn't say you did!" I shot back.

  "Well…good," she said as she backed off a little and held my gaze.

  I could feel my pulse racing and I knew it wasn't just because we were irritated with each other. As I looked at her, I had the strongest urge to reach over and pull her to me so I could kiss her. I wanted to run my fingers through her shiny, chestnut tresses and feel those full lips pressed against mine. And, I really wanted to slip my hand underneath her dress and cup her breast in my hand. I quickly caught myself as I felt the blood rushing away from my brain. I shook my head violently to clear the image and keep from embarrassing myself in front of my new employee.

  "I'm sorry if I irritated you," she offered.

  "No, you didn't," I quickly replied.

  "The hell I didn't," she laughed. "I'm extremely good at finding the weak spots and digging at them, but the problem is that I don't do it on purpose, so I never know I'm doing it until it's already done."

  "Must be a hell of a way to live," I muttered.

  "You have no idea,"

  "Yeah, I think I have a pretty good idea," I said with a wry grin. "Look, we're going to be working together for the next few weeks, so let's just agree to be honest with each other, okay? If you piss me off, I'll let you know, and I want you to be able to do the same."

  "That sounds like a great plan," she nodded. "Should we have a code word for when we are mad? You know, so that we don't scare the customers."

  "Good idea," I nodded. "Do you know the Russian word for stop?"

  "No, what is it?" she asked.

  "Stoya," I replied. "It's literally the action of stopping, like in a car. And, it's short and sweet, so most won't notice if we say it."

  "Wow, that's a good word. Are you fluent in Russian?" she asked.

  "Something like that," I said.

  "Alright, then stoya it is!" She smiled as we pulled up in front of the store. "This is going to be good, I think."

  I nodded as I watched the driver circle the car and open the door for Lexi before coming around and opening my door. I felt li
ke this was either going to be really good or an absolute disaster, but as Babi always scolded, "Worry is a down payment on a problem you may never have!" So, I put the negative thoughts behind me and hoped for the best.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Lexi

  Max unlocked the store and we got right to work placing all of the jewelry in its spots. He had an eye for detail and knew exactly where everything should go in order to maximize its glitter and shine. We worked in silence at first, but I was curious about how he'd come to own the shop and, if I was honest, I just wanted an excuse to look at him, so I began peppering him with questions.

  "Did you grow up in a gem-loving family?" I teased as I pulled a rose- gold filigreed pendant with a smooth, round amethyst in middle and draped its delicate chain around one of the display stands.

  "No, I did not," he said as he carefully placed a row of Orthodox cross pendants on a specially made tray. They were intricately detailed and came with a high price.

  "Then, how did you get into the jewelry business?" I asked. I watched as he set and reset the pendants until he was satisfied that they were perfectly aligned on the tray.

  "I was inspired by a need to break free of my family's business and strike out on my own," he said as he began inserting a series of beautiful solitaires set in gold into ring holders.

  "What's your family's business?"

  "My father runs a bar over on the West side and my brother works for him," he replied as he polished each ring until it reflected prisms back out into the room.

  "What about your mother?" I asked. "What does she do?"

  "Stoyaa," Max said and looked away.

  "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go somewhere you didn't want to talk about." I quickly looked down and focused on polishing the necklaces I was getting ready to hang from the display.

  "That's why it's good we have a word to say when it's enough," he smiled a little and went back to polishing the rings. I didn't know what to say to that, so I remained quiet until he spoke again. "What about you? Why are you an actress?"

  "Oh gosh, I think it's probably because I have been a ham since I was in diapers," I laughed. "But seriously, I couldn't imagine doing anything else. It was like once I got the acting bug, everything else ceased to exist. I majored in Literature in college only because I thought that it would be a good thing to fall back on just in case I couldn't make the acting work right away. At least, I could write."

  "And , how's that working out for you?" he asked.

  "Well, I'm here, aren't I?" I said as I went back to hanging necklaces. As we worked along the cases, we moved closer to each other until he was working on the case next to the one I was at and was so close that I could feel the heat radiating off of his body. I bit my tongue to keep from making any improper noises and inhaled the scent of his cologne. So far, I'd only seen him wearing a suit, but he filled out a suit very nicely. I just wished I could check out what was underneath that suit.

  "So, you're acting in theater productions, too?" he asked. I'd been so intent on imagining him out of his suit that I hadn't been paying attention, so when he spoke, I jumped a little. He turned toward me with a concerned look on his face, "You okay over there?"

  "Yes, fine, thanks," I nodded. "What was the question?"

  "I asked if you're in any theater productions," he replied with a small smile. I wondered if he knew what effect he was having on me, and if he did, if he was taking pleasure in the fact that he'd thrown me off kilter.

  "Not right now, no," I said. "But I've got an audition later this week and I feel hopeful that I can land the part."

  "What is the play?"

  "Hedda Gabbler," I replied and heard him swear under his breath. "Why, don't you like it?"

  "What is it about this city?" he blurted out. "Why is it so absolutely obsessed with Ibsen? Ibsen, Ibsen, Ibsen. It seems like every damn play in the city is an Ibsen play!"

  "No, please, tell me how you actually fee about Ibsen," I said dryly. Max looked over at me and burst into laughter.

  "Touché," he said through his laughter. "I don't hate Ibsen, I just seem to see a lot of it. You know how there might be a certain food you really like, but then everyone thinks that's your favorite food so they make it all the time and feed it to you?"

  "Okay?"

  "That's how I feel about Ibsen," he sighed. "Full."

  "I can see how you'd feel that way," I nodded. During his outburst, he'd moved closer, and now, I could feel the warmth radiating off of his body, making my skin tingle. I had been noticing his hands as he plucked the jeweled pieces from their padded boxes and then carefully placed them where they belonged. There was something about his long, elegant fingers that made me wonder how they'd feel tracing a path across my naked body. I shivered.

  "Are you cold?" he asked. "I can turn down the air if you're too cold."

  "No, I'm…I'm fine," I said as I swallowed hard and tried to focus my thoughts on the pieces I was working with. They were lovely rings made of aquamarine, amethyst, and citrine, and each of them shined like the sun under the bright lights once I'd wiped away all human fingerprints.

  "Okay, if you're sure," he said watching me closely. I nodded and continued working.

  "How did you learn Russian?" I asked as I turned toward him and leaned on the glass case.

  "My parents and grandparents spoke it," he replied not looking up.

  "Are they from Russia?"

  "Yes, Moscow," he said tersely.

  "You sound like you want to say stoyaa," I observed as I watched him diligently polish the piece of jewelry in his hand.

  "I would, but you're not asking anything I can't answer."

  I could see the muscles in his jaw tensing and releasing as he talked. I knew something was stressing him out, but I didn't think it was wise to push the questions at this stage of the game.

  "What's your favorite color?" I said as I changed the topic completely and gave Max a rest from my questions.

  "What? Oh, blue, I've always loved cornflower blue," he said. "It reminds me of the dishes in my Babi's kitchen when I was a kid."

  "Bobby? Who's Bobby?" I asked. "An ex-girlfriend?"

  "No, Babi, B-A-B-I" he laughed as he spelled it out for me. "It's short for Babushka, my grandmother. She lives up off of Devon and still cooks every weekend. If you're lucky, I'll bring back leftovers from her Sunday dinner while your have your run here."

  "Ha ha, very funny," I said. "We both know that this is a straight up sales job passing as some kind of acting experience. Anyway, it sounds like Babi is quite a cook."

  "She's the best cook ever. Last week, she made me fish soup that was out of this world."

  "Now, in my family that would have been punishment," I said dryly. "I did not know anyone actually ate fish soup."

  "Oh man, it's delicious," he said and then went on to describe the recipe and how to make it. When he was done, I looked up at him for a moment and felt my heart twist a little in my chest. His eyes were light and clear and he had a smile that stretched across his cheeks and lit up his entire face. He looked more than handsome, and I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

  Over in my bag, my phone began demanding attention as Josh's ring tone played, stopped, and then played again. I had no desire to talk to the weasel, but I knew that if I didn't, he'd keep calling until I answered.

  "Excuse me for a moment?" I asked. Max nodded and I grabbed my phone and headed toward the front door.

  "What?" I hissed as I answered it.

  "Heya, Sugar, how's is hanging?" Josh's smooth voice flowed through the phone and carried me back to the Jamaican beach. I could feel the ache flowing through my body for a brief moment before I shook my head and reminded myself that he'd abandoned me for a job in LA.

  "Don't call me that, you know I hate it," I said in a dead tone. "What do you want?"

  "Why are you so mad, Lexi?" Josh said in a sticky sweet voice. "I miss you, baby. I just wanted to call and check on you to see how you're doing.
"

  "Give me a break, you didn't call to check on me, you want something," I shot back. "What do you want?"

  "Well, I could use a little help with the expenses out here. I didn't realize just how expensive headshots were going to be, babe!"

  "You're a piece of work, Josh," I laughed. "You dump me, leave me with the apartment, and move to LA all in one day, and then when things are going a little rough in your fantasy, you call me and ask if I can bail you out? You've got to be kidding me!"

  "Jeez, Lex, if you can't help, then all you have to do is say so," he pouted. "You don't have to be so mean about it. Don't you know that I still love you?"

  "Josh, you are the biggest piece of shit on earth," I said. "If you were on fire in the middle of Michigan Avenue, I wouldn't step off the curb to piss on you, let alone actually help you up. You can go to hell."

  "Fine, if you're going to be a total bitch about this, then I'm sorry I called!" he yelled before he disconnected.

  "That son of a bitch," I muttered as I walked back to the display case where Max was finishing up one of the final arrangements of gold pendants. "Call and ask me for help, will he? That'll be the day!"

  "Not good news I take it?" Max asked as I walked behind the cases and put my phone back in my bag.

  "Stoya," I said, giving him a warning look.

  "Understood," he nodded and continued to work.

  We worked in silence for the next hour, and by the time five o'clock rolled around, we'd turned the store into a glittering display of some of the most gorgeous jewelry I'd ever seen. Max had a great eye when it came to color and design, and I knew that much of what he'd bought would be sold out almost immediately. Most of the pieces were one of a kind, so any woman who wore a ring or necklace from M. Malin could rest assured that no other woman in the city would have purchased the same ring, unless she'd gone directly to Moscow to buy it.