He nodded. “It’s a blend I picked up the last time I was in Beijing. I’m no aficionado, thought it was pretty good.” His phone buzzed in his hand. “Sterling.”
The woman’s voice was more muffled this time, so I couldn’t understand what she was saying. “Really?” Sterling asked at one point. “All right. No, no, that’s fine, Margie, I’ll take care of it. You have a good night.”
He ended the call and slid back down to his seat on the hearth, elbows perched easily across his knees.
“Well, here’s the deal, Ms. Crosby,” he said.
“Skylar,” I corrected him. I didn’t want him to stop saying it now that he’d started.
Sterling rewarded me with another slow, soft smile that made my stomach flip. “Skylar. Well. It’s past one. The subways and buses are most likely done. Margie tells me she called four different car companies, but it appears that everyone in Boston is trying to get someone to drive them home in this weather. I’d drive you myself, but my car is being detailed. So, you’ve got a choice. You can wait here until about four a.m. for the next available car, which will make me grumpy since I’ll have to stay up with you, and I’m dog-tired. You can take your chance with the T, in which case I’ll walk you to the station. Through a blizzard, by the way. But I doubt you’ll do anything but spend the night there. Or you can take advantage of my hospitality and stay the night in one of my guest rooms.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” I started to say, but received the same brusque flick of the hand that Ana had gotten.
“Stop,” Sterling ordered. “This place is practically a hotel anyway. It’s no trouble, I promise.”
He lifted his eyebrow again in that way that dared me to argue otherwise, and I bit my lip as a snarky comment rose up my throat. His eyes zoomed straight to my mouth, and I quickly released my lip from my teeth.
“Ah,” he said, somewhat huskily this time. “So. Sleep on thousand-thread-count sheets in a warm bedroom? Or on a concrete bench with a bunch of homeless guys who probably haven’t showered since August? Tough decision, I know.”
I looked at him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was really as altruistic as he seemed. Or as confident. He was nice, but how many men invited strange women to stay the night without having ulterior motives? In my (admittedly limited) experience, approximately none.
“Do you, um, live here by yourself?” The place was silent other than the fire and our voices.
Sterling smirked.
“Yes,” he said. “Is that a problem?”
“Well, you’re not going to try anything, are you?” The question flew out before I could stop it.
“I’m pretty sure welcoming yourself into my house and wandering my halls removes any liability on my part of sexual harassment, Skylar,” he said with a grin. “But I applaud your contempt nonetheless. First I’ve seen that you could be as cutthroat as my associates tell me.”
“They talk about me?”
“They talk about everyone,” he said. “But yes, I’ve heard of you.” He looked up at the ceiling as though reciting the conversation from a file. “Quick with words, extremely competent, doesn’t take shit from the male interns. Smart. A lot of promise.” He raised an eyebrow. “Colletti said she wanted to recruit you for a junior associate position, but you weren’t interested. Is that true?”
I felt another flush rising up my neck. “I suppose so. I mean, I’d be happy to make some coin, but that’s not why I’m in law school. I already went down that road once before, and it wasn’t really for me.”
“What road was that?”
“The ‘making money for money’s sake’ road. Before law school, I spent some time working for Goldman Sachs. It was just before they took the big bailout. Seeing all those executives take that money after stealing so much more from their investors and clients…it just made me sick. I’d rather be someone who could help people like that get some of it back. Or at least make sure they get what’s theirs in the end.”
Sterling raised a dusky eyebrow. “Almost sounds like you’re interested in advocacy. But I’ve seen your transcripts; your grades are too good for that. You should be clerking for the Supreme Court, not mucking around at a litigation firm.”
I sighed. “I’m...having a hard time choosing what I want to do.” It was hard to admit to someone who would be a potential reference, but it was the truth. “Family law is interesting, but I don’t want to do divorce work. I might also like to help some of the families who normally fall through the cracks get representation. Orphans, or kids whose parents are incarcerated, for instance.”
He tensed visibly. “Foster kids?”
I nodded. “Or abused women. People like that.”
“And why is that?”
I paused. I didn’t want to tell him that I came close to being one of those orphaned kids myself—he wouldn’t be interested in that sob story, not that I told it much anyway. “I’ve seen enough of those types who need help,” was all I said. “I’d like to be one of the people who can help them.”
Sterling didn’t answer, just gazed thoughtfully and chewed for a moment on his lower lip. I dug my toes into the rug and took another long drink of tea. When he stood up, Sterling looked pointedly at my cup, now empty.
“So?” he asked. “It’s late. What’s it going to be, Skylar? Have a nice long sleep in one of my guest rooms? Or do you need some more tea to help you decide?”
His tone dared me to say no, but his eyes twinkled in a way that told me he was enjoying the give and take. I set my cup down on the tray.
“All right,” I said. “You win.”
“I always do,” he replied with a grin. “Up one flight, second door down the hall on your right.”
“Aren’t you going to sleep too?” I asked, already standing up. I tried to stifle a yawn, but the thought of a warm bed was turning out to be more of a siren’s call than expected.
“I’ve got some more work to do tonight,” he said as he walked to the tea tray to fix himself a cup. “You have a good night, Skylar. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you, um, Mr. Sterling,” I said, already on my way up the stairs. It felt strange to address him by his last name after he had removed my shoes, but he hadn’t instructed me otherwise. “Good night.”
Continue reading Legally Yours FREE: www.nicolefrenchromance.com/spitfire
Afterword
Out of every book I’ve written so far, this one easily required the most research, and as a result, had the most surprises. For example, when I was researching why John Carson and Jacob de Vries might have been in South Korea during the late eighties, I discovered the history of the Hwaseong murders, one of the most notorious unsolved cases in South Korea. I knew immediately I had to incorporate them into the book, but I did take some minor liberties in fictionalizing them. While I kept the basic facts in Detective Cho’s description, I did invent some of the victims’ key identity traits to fit Yu-na’s history.
I also spent a great deal of time researching self-harm, which is unfortunately a common symptom of PTSD. The US Department of Veterans Affair estimates that approximately 2-6% of the general involvement engages in self-harm, but that rates are as high as 13-15% in students, and also quite a bit higher with PTSD sufferers.
You can find more information on self-harm and PTSD here.
Acknowledgments
This might have been one of the hardest books I have ever written. Aside from the rollercoaster of emotion and trauma these characters experienced, I was also dealing with some deeply painful family losses that forced me to delay its release. I could not have finished it without the patience, support, and dedication from the following people:
First of all, my readers. You guys have dealt with my sporadic (at best) presence since June, and your enthusiasm for this story buoyed me. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Words don’t even cover my gratitude.
To my alpha and beta readers—Patricia, Danielle, Natalie, Erika, Dawn, and Rebecca. You guys s
tepped up at the last minute to make this book so, so, so much better. I could NOT have finished it without you.
To my editor and proofreader duo, Emily Hainsworth and Judy Zweifel, thank you for working with the piecemeal nature of the initial manuscript. We did it!
To my other author friends whose ceaseless support means the utter world: Jane, Laura, Kim, Harloe, Claudia, Parker, and several others. Could NOT do this without you all. Special thanks to Jane for naming the Kostases.
And of course, to my husband, kids, and family. The Dude doesn’t always understand what my deadline are, but he sure as hell supports them, and stepped up when life seemed to want to tear me apart. I love you and C to death.
Also by Nicole French
The Spitfire Series
(sister series to Jane and Eric’s story)
I had a plan.
Finish law school. Start a job. Stay away from men like Brandon Sterling.
Cocky, overbearing, and richer than the earth, he thinks the world belongs to him, and that includes me.
Yeah, no. Think again.
It doesn’t matter that his blue eyes look straight into my soul, or that his touch melts my icy reserve.
It doesn’t even matter that past all that swagger, there’s a beautiful, damaged man who has so much to offer beyond private planes and jewelry boxes.
But I had a plan: no falling in love.
I just have to convince myself.
Book I is available FREE: https://www.nicolefrenchromance.com/spitfire
The Discreet Duet
Four years ago, the world’s biggest heartthrob disappeared.
Four years later, I met my surly new neighbor.
He was gorgeous, sure, but also rude and quick-tempered. And no matter how hard I tried to avoid him, we kept running into each other. Everywhere.
Something was off about Will.
His jaw was too chiseled, even with a beard. His green eyes always sparkled, even behind those shades. His charisma belonged on magazine covers, not hidden away in a cabin.
And I couldn’t let it go.
The more time I spent with this strange, reclusive stranger, the more his hard shell cracked, revealing an intelligent, soulful man starving for affection.
Just like me.
To scarred for anyone else, together we seemed whole.
Curiosity killed the cat. Would mine be Will’s undoing?
Because once he revealed his biggest secret, who knew if I’d remain discreet?
Start the duet here: https://www.nicolefrenchromance.com/discreet
Broken Arrow
They call me every name in the book, and every one is true.
Violent. Criminal. Bad news.
And if they’re lucky, I’ll take my anger out on a punching bag instead their faces. If they’re lucky.
Then I meet her. Sophisticated. Successful.
More culture in her finger than I have in my entire body.
She says I have more to offer the world than my fists. She says I can pick my own direction instead of taking the one I’m given.
But tell me, beautiful, how do you do that, when you don’t know where to go?
How do you find the right path when your compass is broken?
Download Broken Arrow FREE here: bit.ly/BrokenArrowGiveaway
About the Author
Nicole French is a lifelong dreamer, Springsteen fanatic, and total bookworm. When not writing fiction or teaching composition classes, she is hanging out with her family or going on dates with her husband. In her spare time, she likes to go running or practice the piano, but never seems to do either one of these things as much as she should.
For more information about Nicole French and to keep informed about upcoming releases, please:
Visit her website at www.nicolefrenchromance.com/.
Check out Nicole’s Goodreads page: www.goodreads.com/authornicolefrench
Want to hook up with other Nicole French readers or interact with the author? Join Nicole’s reader group, La Merde.
The Love Trap (Quicksilver Book 3) Page 39