Flirting with Revenge

by Kristel Ralston

  “I’d put you in danger. Don’t you have anyplace else?”

  “You can spend the night here, and I’ll call Delaney in the morning. She must know some places. Okay?”

  With the warmth finally reaching her bones, Piper nodded. She felt a bit guilty for involving her sister in her problems, but she had nobody else to turn to at the moment.”

  “Yes.”

  Suddenly, Rachel’s smile widened.

  “What about aunt Ariel’s house in Maine? I’m sure she’d love to see you!”

  Piper grimaced. Ariel was a busybody. She’d never gotten along with her old-fashioned aunt. But Rachel had lived with her, so at least she would not speak ill of her father’s sister.

  “I would rather stay here, in case my parole officer needs to find me. I don’t want any trouble.”

  Rachel sat up. She crossed her arms, looking at her sister.

  “Aunt Ariel is a very loving person, Piper. I’m sure she’d love to hear you’re going to visit her.”

  “Give me time, please. I’m still adapting to freedom. I did not think I’d ever get out of that hellhole.” That comment softened Rachel’s face. “Let’s take it step by step, all right?”

  “Yes, all right. Come, I’ll show you where you can sleep tonight. But I have one question. What happened to witness protection?”

  “I refused it because they were about to catch that goon.”

  “Piper!”

  The woman screwed her eyes shut. Perhaps her judgment was playing a mean trick on her. She’d thought she was free from any trap in her quest to leave her days as a convict behind. In the short while she’d been on the streets again, she’d managed to make friends with some people that were less than honorable in society’s eyes, but had good connections in the underworlds. One of her old high-society friends, from those years when everything seemed to go her way after she recovered from the death of her parents, had recognized her in the modern coffee shop where she worked as a waitress.

  Theo Vanekkis was a charmer, but also dangerous when provoked. He’d always been a gentleman with her. And that day in the coffee shop, he’d asked her about her life. Piper did not mind talking about it when asked, and even less if it was with a man like Theo, who did not judge others... he only used them to his advantage.

  Theo had assured her that he could take care of her. She refused. Piper understood that the attraction between them was simmering, it always had, but now she did not want to owe anything to anyone. She’d already paid a high price for her foolishness. The only thing she wanted was for Emilio to be caught, so she could find the way to, maybe, leave the United States and start a new life.

  “I’m beaten. I brought a few things in case you weren’t home and I had to go to some cheap place. I’d like to shower and sleep a bit, without thinking someone will slice my neck open at any moment,” she said, her voice weary. She ran her fingers through her long hair, which now looked unkempt, and was chopped off below her ears.

  Rachel hugged Piper. The latter resisted for a moment, but then returned the embrace.

  “You’re my sister and I’d do anything for you.”

  “I know. You’re the only thing on my conscience,” she whispered with a smile that had nothing to do with happiness and was full of remorse.

  “Don’t be silly, Piper. What happened back then had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with injustice.” She hooked her elbow into her sister’s. “Come on, time to rest. Tomorrow, I’ll make breakfast for your birthday. I bought you something; I hope you like it!”

  “You shouldn’t have...”

  “Bah, of course, I should have. You’re my sister and I love being able to spend time with you.”

  “You’re too good.”

  “Don’t think you’re the only one who’s changed,” she said, her voice serious.

  Piper shrugged her shoulders. She did not feel like analyzing her little sister.

  “I’m sure I’m not...” she murmured with a yawn.

  ***

  The twins had been discharged after fifteen days of anguish for the Whitmores. Usually, the process of waking up from a coma could take months, even years, and the doctors had assured them that it was almost a miracle that the boy had woken after two weeks despite the blows he’d received. At Douglas and Lara’s house, anxiety simmered just beneath the surface. The twins’ grandparents tried to make the days entertaining, but the memory of having been about to lose those two cherubs would never stop haunting them.

  The Whitmores spared no expense, and had specialists they knew flown in from Switzerland and France. Thanks to Michael’s good relationship with the hospital directors, they allowed these foreign doctors to join the team caring for the boys. Monitors, constant exams, and preferential treatment had finally paid off. And, of course, the nature of the universe had steadied the doctors’ hands.

  Amid the family crisis, Michael was overwhelmed; his office was a beehive. However, he had been on a date with Veronica after that first evening they’d spent at the hospital. Afterward, she’d had to travel to Washington, D.C. to coordinate a project for her company, and would not be back until the next day.

  They talked on the phone as much as they could, though it could be complicated due to their mutual obligations. And with every passing day, Michael yearned to let himself be swept up by the redhead’s easy laughter and intelligent conversation. Talking on the phone for a couple of hours just wasn’t the same as doing so in person. He liked to listen to her, to feel her laugh vibrate, and to imagine her in his arms.

  It was a strange feeling to desire to get to know a woman better. After Ingrid, it had been enough for him to know the basics about someone. But the mysterious, seductive energy around Veronica intrigued him. He wanted to discover every part of her delicious body with his hands, and enjoy being with her.

  That night, they were finally going to have a proper dinner date, after so much conversation over texts and on the phone; they rarely Skyped. He wanted to finish the damn paperwork on his desk and delegate all the pertinent tasks to his paralegals. Being a partner had many advantages, but the level of responsibility was also high.

  “Michael, you have a meeting with Charlie Guildford in twenty minutes,” his assistant said over the intercom. “There’s an important case that just came into the firm.”

  “What type of case? Did they tell you what practice area it belongs to?”

  The woman looked at him impatiently.

  “Criminal.”

  “I don’t lead that...”

  “Sir, this is coming from one of the senior partners. Don’t kill the messenger,” she interrupted with that efficient, well-paid assistant smile. “That’s the area of reference, but it also touches on banking and financial issues.”

  “All right, thank you.”

  Michael let out a loud sigh.

  Minutes later, he approached the conference room. It was six in the evening. He was not happy at all to be called in for a subject that had made him quit his family’s law firm years ago. He did not want to go through that again.

  The door to the elegant conference room with a view of the river opened for him. Five of the twelve partners from the Chicago office of Salmann & Buckend were already seated. They gestured a greeting.

  “Hello, Michael,” said Eileen Roberts, one of the few partners managing the criminal law area. Michael nodded a greeting to all the partners. “We understand that, in the past, you handled a drug case that garnered a lot of publicity in the media, and had tremendous success. In our usual cases, we haven’t had to manage droves of journalists since, as you know, we take only a certain type of cases and try to be as discreet as possible. However, a possible client that has come to us requesting legal representation could be a bit... controversial. He’s been accused of drug trafficking, and leading a gang of ‘collaborators.’ Nonetheless, we will not be involved with that side of his business. We are unaware of the details and would like to keep it that way.”

&nb
sp; Uncomfortable, Michael shifted in his chair. That ridiculous line between the legal and illegal behind which his colleagues hid when they took this type of client caused him some moral friction, and he hated the feeling.

  “I don’t want to have anything to do with a client of that type,” he said firmly. “I may have won a complicated case in the past, but I paid a high personal price. I don’t expect you to understand, but I think it needed to be said. And I don’t recommend that we start taking this type of client with a history just because they have ‘legal’ businesses for which they require a group of lawyers to advise them.”

  A low murmur buzzed through the room. Michael was one of the few partners that never bothered to hide his discomfort or his point of view, no matter who was around him. That had been a key factor when Dereck Salmann had decided to nominate him as a candidate for partnership years ago.

  “We need to show that we are still the leading form in Chicago, Michael. That we’re still the best, despite the current crisis that is forcing other firms to cut their staff,” interjected Mikos Arthemis, a naturalized Greek-American who was sharper than a sword. “We would only represent this client in his legal business dealings, as Eileen pointed out. We would be paid a significant fee. The city’s law firms are losing clients and income. This client would not cause any moral inconvenience for us, because as Eileen mentioned, we would only take care of his legitimate businesses.”

  A hum of agreement could be heard around the table.

  Michael drummed his fingers on the wooden table.

  “What does Dereck think?” asked the green-eyed lawyer. The opinion of the man who had placed him on the top echelon of the company was essential.

  “As Mikos told you, even though I lead the criminal law area, your contribution would be useful; however, what this possible client wants is mainly assistance in the banking and finance area, which is your specialty, for matters related to his policies, and some contract matters that you also usually handle in terms of civil law. On the other hand, Michael, Derek could not be here today because he had an appointment with Judge Robinson, in Juvenile Court,” answered Eileen. “Nonetheless, he just sent an email stating that whatever you decide must be respected. We will do so, but not without reiterating that your help would be important. Not just because of your experience; you also have charisma and a good rapport with the media, and that will be essential if there is a lot of publicity when it leaks, and it will leak, I’m sure, that one of Chicago’s largest firms is taking on a client whose profile is... complex,” she finished in her even, calm manner.

  “Who is this person requesting our services?” asked Michael, feeling stress creep over his back. It annoyed him when his colleagues were mysterious and beat around the bush.

  “Emilio Gordov.”

  That name was well known in the city, thought Michael. He was a minor-league drug trafficker, but his influence on vulnerable groups, such as private school students who could afford to buy some drugs once in a while, was brutal. Word on the streets was that Emilio Gordov was not very considerate when it came to collecting on a debt, and had no mercy when he was betrayed.

  The police had never managed to get solid evidence on him or witnesses who wanted to provide details or information, which was why Gordov was still on the streets under the guise of running legitimate businesses. The authorities could do nothing about this because the salons and beauty product distributors did everything by the book. The police had no way of proving that the financing for most of those businesses came from drug money unless they found someone brave... or stupid enough to rat him out so they could catch Gordov red-handed and arrest him.

  “Shall we submit the idea of accepting Gordov as a client to a vote?” asked Mikos subtly, looking at Michael. The latter nodded. What was democracy for, if not...

  Thirty minutes later, Gordov was walking through the door.

  Michael had lost the vote, and the firm would work with the notorious drug trafficker.

  Short and thin, with pale skin and eyes that looked like bottomless black pits, just looking at Gordov gave you chills. The man walked in with two bodyguards, and what looked like his usual counsel. With one gesture, he dismissed everyone except the lawyer.

  “Gentlemen, may I present Emilio Gordov,” said Eileen, after shaking the little man’s hand. “The police are trying to verify the legality of his salons and beauty product businesses, and he needs our advice to make sure everything is by the book, and he can prove it with documentation if necessary.”

  “So, you’ve decided to represent me,” asked Gordov with a smile as fake as the gold tooth replacing his left canine.

  Mikos nodded. Eileen quickly introduced him to the partners.

  “Then I must thank you,” he said smugly, comfortably seated on one of the conference room sofas. “I would like to alert you to an uncomfortable situation that I hope you will handle as well... as my future lawyers.”

  “The more transparent our relationship, Mr. Gordov, the better we will get along,” said Michael, not able to help himself.

  Gordov’s calculating gaze immediately fixed on Michael. He narrowed his eyes and then smiled in recognition.

  “Ah, you are the lawyer who led that famous case here in Chicago over a decade ago. I was thirty-eight, back then, and surprised that you were so young, Mr. Whitmore.”

  Michael did not know whether to feel offended or flattered that his work was famous enough to be recognized by a dangerous man such as Gordov.

  “Would you like to tell us about this matter you wanted to alert us to, Mr. Gordov?” answered Michael, avoiding any mention of the past.

  Emilio looked at his usual lawyer, who nodded.

  “The police, in their witch hunt, intend to arrest me. They are looking for information about my businesses. It seems that someone was just released on parole a few months ago at the expense of my reputation.”

  How cynical, thought Michael to himself.

  “And who is this person who provided information about you?” asked Michael, resigned. “Perhaps we could find them and solve the problem. With no conflicts for either party,” a dry edge crept into his voice at the end.

  Emilio looked at him and, before answering, flashed a wide smile. A chill went down Michael’s spine.

  “A friend from your past, counselor. Piper Galloway.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Thanks to Delaney, Piper had found an affordable place. She was safer now, or at least that’s what Rachel hoped. She had asked Piper to tell her all the details, and if she could ask the police for help with witness protection, to do so. Thankfully, Piper had not refused and had an officer assigned to her twenty-four hours a day until they managed to bring Gordov into an interrogation room at the station and collect enough solid evidence to arrest him.

  With that in mind, and hating that her sister was still dealing with the ghosts of her incarceration, Rachel dressed for that evening’s dinner. After days without seeing each other, and barely communicating by phone, she and Michael had finally coincided on an evening for a date.

  She did not know if the adrenaline that coursed through her veins was due to the idea of seducing Michael or because she was afraid the plan would get out of control. She could not exactly call herself an expert lover. Yes, she’d had some passionate encounters, but not enough to surpass the expectations of a man who, in all likelihood, had enough practice to be hard to impress.

  She would not back out. She would use what she had at her disposal. If she’d learned anything in the past few years, it was to highlight her best features when she needed to.

  She ran her hands over the soft fabric of her black, slightly fitted dress. It had small, shiny appliqués, which formed a miniature constellation trail on the bodice. The fabric of the V-necked dress fell down to her knees. She wore a strapless bra because the outfit was backless. Her panties, bikini cut, were also black, but silk.

  She wore a garter. Yes. It was the perfect occasion to wear one. The only b
right detail in her dark attire for the evening was the red garter. She felt daring. Spiteful. Sensual. It was a combination that increased her expectations about what could happen after dinner.

  She picked up a red scarf and wrapped it around her neck. Then she put on a thin cardigan, and on top, her thick winter coat. Instead of boots, she was wearing Miu Miu heels. A small luxury, but she was enjoying it.

  She applied some blush, lipstick, and dark blue eyeliner to highlight the blue of her eyes. That was the effect she was going for: a mixed effect, both sensual and innocent.

  When the intercom buzzed, Rachel was so focused looking at herself in the mirror and thinking about her plot that she jumped. She put her hand over her heart. Wow, a punctual lawyer! she thought sarcastically before picking up her black purse and answering.

  “Veronica,” said Michael in lieu of a greeting.

  That voice sent a trickle of warm sparkles down her spine, sliding along her skin, through the fabric; it was like a naked caress. She trembled. She was not used to him using that name, and truthfully, she liked it. As if they were playing a forbidden game. And in some ways, it was.

  “Hi, I’ll come down in...”

  “I wanted to ask if you’d mind me coming up for a moment,” he interrupted.

  Rachel gulped.

  “Of course, come up. It’s on the twelfth floor.” She pressed the intercom button that opened the main door to the building, so Michael could take the elevator. The day after her first encounter with the Whitmore family, Rachel had instructed Saul, the short man who sat at the reception desk, that if Michael Whitmore asked for Veronica Marsh, he meant her. Saul shot her a questioning look, but she only winked and thanked him. Why should she have to explain herself to anyone?

  Michael did not think that his separation from Veronica could last much longer. After the horrible day at the office, the last thing he wanted was to deal with people or restaurants, despite having promised he would take her to dinner.

  The mere thought of dealing with the Galloway girl again, even indirectly, turned his stomach. It had been an ominous time, all those years ago. Piper was too young to have wasted her life. Justice did its part, yes, but that did not relieve him from the feeling that he’d stolen her youth.