Sleeping With the Opposition (Bad Boy Bosses) (8 page)

When she first started working for him as a fresh associate, he’d been confounded by the way she’d turned every possibility for glory into a quiet settlement that simply went away without any fanfare or attention. But then he’d realized just how much
money
that made for the firm. Thirty percent on every settlement, without the overhead for disbursements or the weeks of trial preparation and time spent arguing frivolous motions just to end up with five minutes on the weekly news.

After that, whenever it looked promising, he’d assumed the “bad cop” role in their duo and let her work that magic. They’d become a dynamic and almost equally balanced team with his talent for strategy and intimidation and her skill at negotiation and seeing the big picture.

Now that she was gone, he wanted not only his wife back…but also his business partner. Leo felt no excitement tackling each new case without her right there with him, and he was already headed for three trials within the next six months that might not have been necessary if she’d still been at the firm. And yet he knew leaving was the best thing she could have done for herself, so he couldn’t complain.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Ms. Foster.” Her gaze narrowed at his formality. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like a few moments to confer with my client before our meeting with Ms. Martin.”

The door opened again. It was Bria with her assistant—who’d finally brought a pitcher of water and who looked ready to go to battle, fierce and loyal—Leo liked him even more. Her client was with them, a hulking guy with a closely shaved head who seemed much bigger in person than he did on television running across the soccer field. He also looked supremely uncomfortable, either because of the situation or the green striped tie that was maybe a little too tight around his neck.

André Cordeiro immediately scanned the room until he found his wife, Leo’s client, who’d backed herself right up to the windows on the opposite side of the room with her arms crossed and her chin lifted. His gaze immediately softened and he took a step forward. Bria noticed, however, and put a hand on his arm to stop him. The brief flicker of light went out of his eyes as if he’d just remembered why they were here.

Maybe because Leo was in the same boat, he knew right then and there that no matter what had happened between André and Josephine and what the evidence might suggest to the contrary, this man did
not
want a divorce. As Josephine’s lawyer, that wasn’t Leo’s problem, but he had to wonder whether Bria knew that her client was still very much in love with his wife.

Bria approached the boardroom table. She had a pad of paper and a pencil in one hand. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun without even a strand out of place, and her makeup looked flawless. He knew what she was trying to do, but all that smooth, cool perfection only meant he was immediately fantasizing about messing her up until her lips parted and her head tipped back so that he could kiss the delicate column of her neck, lay her out across the long table and ruck up her skirt, slide his hands along the insides of her thighs, and—

“Good morning, Mrs. Cordeiro.” Bria smiled warmly. “And to you as well, Mr. Markham.” Her lips thinned, and the temperature cooled considerably when she turned to Leo, but not enough that anyone except him would notice that her tone was anything other than professional. Just him, because he was not only paying very close attention, but he’d also been the recipient of more than just her businesslike cordiality in the past. He’d experienced Bria’s passion and her love.

With raised brows, she focused on the person who did not belong. “Nadia, did you need help with something
else
?”

Leo had almost forgotten she was still here, even though she remained right next to him. He’d been so focused on his wife. His mouth twitched at the obvious implication that Bria had already stepped in to assist Nadia in other matters, implying that Ms. Foster maybe couldn’t handle her own files.

He held back a grin. As skilled as his wife was at negotiation, she was no pushover. It seemed the lines had already been drawn in the sand between these particular foes.

Unfortunately, the other woman wasn’t fazed. “Oh, don’t worry Ms. Martin. I think I’m managing just fine.” She traced a line down Leo’s arm with one perfectly manicured, black-polished fingernail. So different from Bria, who kept her nails short and blunt but liked lots of color. Bright pinks, blues, and greens, even yellow and orange, depending on her mood. She changed it up often, although lately she hadn’t been wearing any polish at all.

“Oh, by the way”—Nadia leaned close to him and lowered her voice— “I think that drink is a great idea. Call me later, and we’ll make it a date,” she whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.

Bria stiffened, and even their clients had shifted their attention from each other and were watching the scene with interest.

Leo frowned at the insinuation that he’d agreed to some sort of assignation, but of course that’s why she’d said it that way, so Bria would think he’d done exactly that. In fact, the satisfied smile Nadia tossed behind her as she sauntered away likely wasn’t for him at all, but for Bria.

The assistant waited at the door, giving Nadia an openly dirty look, but she winged him in the forearm with her shoulder as she passed, just enough to force him to sidestep, before she was gone.

“Why that bi—” the assistant started.

Bria cleared her throat. “Brandon.” She quickly stopped him from saying exactly what Leo had been thinking. He was glad to see, though, that his wife had someone watching her back in this place. “Could you let Jessica at the front desk know that we’re starting our meeting now and should not be disturbed further?”

Brandon nodded and backed out of the room. His disgruntled mumbling could be heard as he shut the door behind him.

Bria finally looked back at Leo. He caught her gaze and held it, and they stood there for a long moment. Finally, she took a deep breath and turned her attention to André Cordeiro.

“Why don’t you and I sit here?” she said to him, pointing at the side of the table nearest them and putting down her pad of paper. Leo moved to the other side and Josephine joined him. He set his briefcase down on the floor by his feet.

He had to give Nadia credit for one thing; even if she hadn’t intended it, her little show had managed to deflect a lot of the tension between their clients, at least for a few minutes. But as they all sat down across from one another, much of it seemed to flood right back. André’s expression darkened with a desperate hunger that he couldn’t quite mask as he watched his wife, and she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms and legs in a defensive position, probably to hide her nervousness and anguish.

These two were still very much in love. They were hurt, angry, and disillusioned, each of them, but it was so obvious that they were looking for any excuse to overcome it and get back together. He was surprised Bria hadn’t seen it herself. Then again, maybe she had, but the prospect of making a good impression at her new firm with a high-profile case was more important to her now than helping two people in pain resolve their problems—and yes, he realized André and Josephine weren’t the only two people in the room with problems.

Leo poured Josephine a glass of water. “My client would like to begin by asserting her claim for an equal division of the marital assets,” he said.

Bria jumped right in after him, tapping the eraser end of her pencil on the table for emphasis. “Your client is certainly entitled to her share of the marital assets…less my client’s excluded property as set out in the prenuptial agreement that your client signed.” She leaned her elbows on the table. “Unless your client is going to try to allege that she signed no such agreement.”

Leo smiled. He was already enjoying this. After everything that had happened, he’d been worried for a while that she’d lost her fire. “Of course not. Mrs. Cordeiro knows exactly what she signed before marrying Mr. Cordeiro. And just like Mr. Cordeiro, she is aware of how the terms of such agreement may be violated.”

Bria’s expression narrowed. “What is it you’re suggesting, Mr. Markham?”

“Why don’t you let your client answer that?” he said, leaning back and leveling his gaze on André, whose face had gone red like he was going to pop a gasket.

“I haven’t been unfaithful to my wife!” André roared.

Bria put her hand on her client’s arm. They’d obviously talked about this. Bria would have warned him that Leo’s job was to try to rattle his cage, and she would have advised him not to engage no matter how upset he got. Leo smiled. Cordeiro probably should have listened to her.

It didn’t even occur to him to go easy on Bria. She might want to win this case desperately, but he understood her well enough to know that unless the win was earned, she wouldn’t be satisfied by it.

“Mr. Cordeiro isn’t required to respond to that, or your inappropriate insinuations regarding his actions. We challenge you and your client to provide proof of your claims if you intend on challenging the prenuptial agreement. Otherwise, we’ll be proceeding as the contract dictates.”

He loved it when she talked legalese to him and couldn’t keep the smile off his face. She noticed, and her cheeks pinkened. She swallowed and glanced away, but her gaze snapped back when he chuckled.

André shot to his feet and slammed his fists on the table. “Josie, this has gone far enough! You know damn well I haven’t been unfaithful to you. You aren’t going to be able to come up with any proof, so just let it go.”

She was on her feet, too, leaning across the table until they were practically nose to nose. “You’re so sure that I can’t prove to everyone what a bloody liar you are?”

“Because I haven’t lied to you!”

“You think that just because I was across an ocean while you were fucking every American floozy that crossed your path, I wouldn’t find out about it?”

“What the hell are you talking about, woman? You know me better than that.”

Both their accents had thickened with emotion. “Josephine,” Leo said, but she ignored him.

“I’ve got proof, you bastard.” She turned to Leo. “Show them,” she said.

He bent slightly, pulling a manila folder from his briefcase. This was not how he’d planned to lead up to this, but it would have the same effect, now or later. He flicked the folder across the table so that it slid to a stop right in front of Bria’s hands.

“What’s this?” she asked, tucking her pencil behind her ear before opening it slowly. A pile of full-color photocopied images looked up at everyone. They were different from the tabloid photos of women hanging on to André at parties. Various shots had been taken through a hotel room window, showing a naked woman draped over a man who was very clearly the famous André Cordeiro.

He could see from the way Bria went still that she hadn’t been prepared for this. Her client hadn’t warned her about the dirt his wife might have gotten on him.

André grabbed the folder. “This is bullshit! Where the hell did these come from?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Leo said calmly. “You can’t deny that this is you in those photographs.” He paused for effect, pointing to the woman in the picture. “And that is
not
your wife.”

André tore them up and tossed them back in Leo’s face, but Leo didn’t bother reminding him that they were only copies as the pieces settled around him.

“That was a setup. How else was someone aiming a camera through the right window at just the right time?” André snapped.

“Unfortunately, that doesn’t matter, either.” He stood and adjusted his suit jacket. To Bria he said, “Equal division of
everything
, is all we’re asking for. We’ll give you a day or two to accept these terms—”

“And the house in Ireland,” Josephine added suddenly, her voice still sharp and angry. “I want it free and clear, on top of my equal share of the rest.”

“That property has been in my family for generations,” André said. “You can’t just—”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before cheating on me.”

Leo swore inwardly, and Bria stood. “I believe this meeting is concluded,” she said, voice steady. “Perhaps you and your client could see your own way out.”

He didn’t kid himself that it was going to be that easy. He and Bria had been in tighter bargaining positions before and always come out on top. He knew she’d find an angle and come back swinging in no time, but unfortunately, the terms of the prenuptial agreement her own client had insisted upon were clear, and he was the one who’d breached it with his infidelity. André Cordeiro was going to end up paying his wife whatever she wanted.

Leo just prayed that when he won this case, it wouldn’t drive his own wife further from his grasp.

Chapter Eight

The door closed with a soft
snick
behind Leo and Mrs. Cordeiro, and Bria rounded on André. “I asked you if there was anything they could use against us, and you promised me there wasn’t,” she said, already racking her brain to find a way out of this.

“That’s because it’s shite,” he snapped.

“So that
wasn’t
you in that hotel room, with a naked woman draped all over you?”

“You’ll notice that I wasn’t the one that got naked, right?” He ran a hand over his head and swore a blue streak that would have made a sailor proud. “That night, I’d left one of those endless media parties early and found that woman waitin’ for me in my hotel room without her clothes. I don’t know how she got in, but she practically attacked me, and I had to call management to get her to leave. But it wasn’t the first time something like that’s happened with a groupie, and I forgot all about it until Josie flung those pictures at me today.”

Bria paused. “If that’s true, then maybe you’re right, it sounds like a setup. Someone could have hired her to create a photo opportunity.” She grabbed the pad of paper from the table, but her pencil was gone. She checked behind her ear and found it, then started scribbling. “We’ll have to find out who took the photos. My guess is a tabloid reporter wanted a story and decided you weren’t interesting enough on your own, so he fabricated one. Do you remember seeing anything about the incident in the papers?”

He shook his head and reached for his tie, tugging it loose before sitting back down at the table as if all the life were draining out of him. “No, but I wasn’t really paying any mind to the rags, right? I just wanted to finalize the contract and start playing football so my wife could join me.”

He looked distracted as he walked over to the window, and Bria didn’t think he was taking time to appreciate the skyline. “I missed her so much, and then she shows up all angry and asking for a divorce.”

“Why did you want to come to New York to play soccer, anyway?” she asked quietly, conscious of his pain.

He turned around to face her and leaned against the window, banging the back of his head against it. “They offered a lot of money, more than I would make in the next five years back home. And the thing is, I probably don’t have more than that left in me.”

She frowned. “Why do you think so?”

“I suffered an injury last year. Got stomped on and broke my leg. It didn’t heal quite right. I can still play, but who knows for how long? The game only gets rougher every year, and I’m thirty-five already. The doc says another break will be the end of me. Even regular injuries get harder and harder to bounce back from. I had to start thinkin’ about the future.”

“But you’ve had a strong, successful career,” she said. “Even if you couldn’t play again as of this moment, you’d have plenty of money to live more than comfortably for the rest of your life.” As his lawyer, she’d already been given access to all his investment and banking records. “Why bother coming to a new country and starting over at this point?”

“It weren’t for me. I wanted to do it for Josephine.” He looked up. “I met her my first year playing football for Man U. She was waiting for me after a game, kind of like that woman in my hotel room, although she didn’t get naked. She cornered me to tell me just how much I sucked, and that I needed to stop actin’ like a berserker and start playin’ like I knew I was on a team.” His expression softened, and he let out a low chuckle. “She was so fiery and beautiful, I fell in love with her right then and there, and it was that way ever since.”

Bria smiled. “Then why didn’t you just tell her about the woman in the hotel room? She probably would have understood.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. She’ll either leave because of this, or she’ll leave in a year or two because I can’t play football anymore.”

“Of course it matters,” she said with a frown. “She didn’t marry you because she likes soccer. She must love you for more than your career. And if you love her, then give her a chance to prove that she’ll stand by you even if you can’t play.”

He crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze. “Should you really be advising me to get back together with my wife? You aren’t likely to get paid that way, you know.”

It had been obvious all along that André didn’t really want a divorce from his wife, but she hadn’t wanted to ask him if there was any chance for resolution because she’d wanted the case. She’d wanted the high-profile attention, the money it would bring to the firm, the recognition she’d get from the partners. She’d wanted to prove to herself that she didn’t need Leo to be successful.

But as much as she wanted to be a shark…she wasn’t a shark. She couldn’t go through with this. It might be good for her career, but helping André end his marriage wasn’t what was good for her client.

“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “I think you need to go see Josephine and tell her what you’ve told me, and give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“What if it makes no difference?”

Her stomach plummeted as she realized that she had her hopes set on these two finding a way to beat the odds and stay together.
Someone
should have a happy ending. “Then I’ll find out who took those photographs, and we’ll be ready to go to court.”

…

Bria couldn’t get the conversation with André out of her head for the rest of the day. She’d encouraged him to be brave and do something that Bria herself hadn’t been able to do for her own marriage, and it had been bugging her ever since. Should she be taking her own advice? Had she treated Leo unfairly by refusing to give him yet another chance?

Her stomach clenched with guilt and sorrow. She picked up her cell phone for about the three hundredth time since he’d walked out of the office earlier. But then she remembered Nadia Foster’s hand on his sleeve and stopped. Nadia would never have advised her client to go down on his knees and beg his wife to take him back.

Her phone buzzed in her hand as she sat there staring at it, but it wasn’t Leo. She answered and said, “Hi, Mom. How are you?”

“Sweetie, I heard on the news that you’re representing that famous soccer player, what’s his name?”

She grimaced. Maybe not for long, if he took her advice. “André Cordeiro.”

“That’s right,” she said excitedly. “I told everybody on Facebook about it. They’re all so impressed. I’m so proud of you.”

“Mom, how many times do I have to tell you to be careful what you put on Facebook?” Bria bonked her forehead off her desk a couple of times in frustration. “Telling the internet that your daughter is a lawyer is not always a good idea.”

“Bah. I make sure I have all those privacy settings on my account, so the only people who can see any of my posts are my friends.” Her mother continued, “So, this big case. Does it mean you’re going to be making partner soon? You work so hard, and you’re so good at your job. They’d be crazy not to make you a partner, right?” When Bria had gotten the job at Ashton Granger Markham, her mother had decided to live out her own abandoned career aspirations through her daughter, becoming Bria’s biggest feminist advocate.

“I don’t know about the partnership position, Mom. It’s a really competitive office, and this case might not be the one,” she said, feeling a little deflated after this morning’s revelations. But she’d screwed things up royally in her own life; the least she could do was try to help André fix his instead of using him as a pawn for her own advancement. “But I’m enjoying the work, and it’s keeping me really busy.”

“That’s good, good,” her mom said, sounding distracted. Through the phone, Bria heard the sound of a male voice calling hello. “Oh dear, Frank’s home. I’ll let you go, and I’ll call you again next week,” she said.

“All right, Mom. Take care. Bye.” There were so many other things she wanted to say about Leo and how conflicted she was feeling, but Bria couldn’t talk about this with her mother. It was too close to home for her mom, and Bria didn’t want to remind her of her own devastating past experiences.

She steeled her resolve for the five hundredth time and dove into her work. She spent the rest of the afternoon reading through contracts and consoling anxious clients. She’d built a decent file list here in a very short time, and her billable hours were skyrocketing higher every day. If things continued their upward momentum, that partnership spot might still be a very real possibility even without André’s high-profile case.

She blinked up at the door when Brandon came in later. He had his book bag over his shoulder and his jacket on. “What time is it?” she asked.

“It’s way after six, and I’ve got a date tonight, so don’t even try to get me to stay any later.”

She chuckled. “I wasn’t going to. Have a good weekend,” she said with a smile.

He started to turn away, then frowned and stopped. “What did you tell André this afternoon after that meeting with Mrs. Cordeiro and your hus—” At her sharp look, he stopped himself before saying the word…and saved his job.

She tucked her pencil into the bun in her hair and glanced back down at the financial statement in front of her. “I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

He folded his arms over his chest. “Because when he left, he asked me to forward his final account on Monday.”

She sighed. “He wants to try to reconcile with his wife. I simply wished him luck.”

He made a face. “That was our million-dollar ticket to the corner office. You couldn’t have even pretended to tell him that the grass is greener on the other side of the divorce papers? I thought you were going to be a shark?”

“I couldn’t do it, Brandon.” Absently, she reached for a pencil from the cup on her desk and tapped it in her palm. “I told him I’d still be here if it didn’t work out, but I guess we’re just going to have to find another way to snag the partnership spot.”

He groaned, but smiled. “How did I get stuck working for the one lawyer with a conscience?”

She chuckled. “You’re welcome to go try your luck with Nadia Foster.”

He shuddered. “Screw that.” He turned to go, then paused with a hand on the door and looked over his shoulder, his characteristic irreverence softened with approval and respect. “You did the right thing.”

Bria smiled, glad someone could see it. “I know. Now get out of here.”

After he was gone, she settled in with every intention of putting in a late night. If she wasn’t going to knock the partners’ socks off with the André Cordeiro case anymore, then she needed to make up for it in other ways.

By around eight thirty, her stomach started grumbling. She tried to push through, but having skipped lunch earlier, too, the hunger became distracting fairly quickly.

Just as she was trying to talk herself out of raiding the employee refrigerator, a text sent her cell phone buzzing across the desk in front of her. She glanced down, curious. It was Leo.

I have dinner. Let me in.

The words didn’t completely register at first.
What are you talking about? Where are you?
she typed.

You’re still working, right? I figured you would be and brought food.

Here? He was
here
?

She checked the time and realized she’d completely forgotten that tonight was one of their scheduled evenings. Bria shot up from her desk and ran around to the door of her office. She craned her neck and peered down the darkened hallway toward the reception area. Sure enough, despite the low lighting, through the glass wall between the office and the elevators stood a tall, broad, Leo-shaped figure holding up a brown paper bag.

She’d doffed her jacket and kicked off her heels hours ago, and now padded down the hall in her stocking feet, glancing nervously into offices as she passed them. All of them were deserted, and most were clean and tidy with clear desks, while hers always looked as if a paper explosion had gone off in her space.

Thank God nobody else was still around. Since it was Friday, even the maintenance staff had cleaned up right after closing to be done with it early, and had been gone for an hour or so. Only she had absolutely no plans and was still working.

She unlocked the door and pushed it open, but didn’t let him in. She stuck her head out instead. He was dressed in sweats and a hoodie with worn cross-trainers on his feet, which meant he must have just come from the gym.

Which meant all those endorphins were still running through his system.

She swallowed hard, remembering exactly what that would have meant for her if everything were normal between them. “I would have come home—” she started. “Wait, is that Mr. Russo’s garlic bread I smell?”

He held up the bag with a smile. “Made special just for you with lots of butter,” he said. “I had a feeling you would skip dinner tonight, so I brought you something.”

What he didn’t say was that he’d suspected she would skip dinner to avoid him, but for once, that wasn’t exactly the truth.

When she hesitated, he held out the bag for her to take. “Come on,” he said. “It’s your favorite.”

“Thank you.” Slowly, she reached for it, and he turned to go. “You’re leaving?”

He paused. “I thought maybe you were avoiding me, but you actually look busy, so I won’t interrupt. I’ll see you later.”

She bit her lip and looked back over her shoulder into the empty office. As he pushed the button for the elevator, the stellar advice she’d given her own client this afternoon came back to haunt her, and she swore. If nothing else, they deserved to go away from this marriage as friends, and friends could share a meal with each other, right? “Wait,” she called. “I’ve been working for hours and could use a break. Do you…do you want to come in?”

Her breath caught when his big body filled the entrance in front of her. She held the door open for him, and his arm brushed against hers as he slipped by to come inside.

She cleared her throat. “Come with me,” she said, leading the way back to her office. The bag of food was making her dizzy with hunger, but Leo’s presence was making her stomach do somersaults of anxious uncertainty. It was a disconcerting combination.

She shut the door, wishing there were an actual wall facing out into the hall instead of just glass on one side and windows on the other. She felt super vulnerable, even though they were completely alone. In fact, maybe that’s
why
she felt vulnerable.