Max
“I NEED TO make sure she’s not hiding anything. Just get it done!” Slamming the phone did nothing to ease the annoyance pumping through my veins. I’d been assigned to a client a few days prior, a Hollywood diva, and it was taking everything in me not to tell the partners to shove the case up their asses.
The whole idea of fighting for your client blindly, not caring if they were truthful, was utter bullshit. I needed to know everything about them, whether or not they were lying to me. Otherwise, I couldn’t do my job properly. It was the reason I’d hired a private investigator. Albert, the same guy I’d worked with on numerous occasions when I lived in California. He was certainly skilled, but there were times, like now, when he drove me nuts. He was a huge fan of Amber Sotter, my current client, so I had to remind him to separate the fan-girl inside him and do his goddamn job.
“Excuse me, Mr. Colter. But Mrs. Sotter is on the phone, and she insists on speaking to you.” Speak of the devil. My secretary, Linda, was standing in the doorway, an apprehensive look stealing her expression. I was positive it had everything to do with the pissed-off look on my face.
Linda was in her late fifties, if I had to guess, and she’d come highly recommended. Strictly professional thus far, which was a huge bonus because I had no patience for flirting and inappropriate behavior. On their part, not mine.
“Tell her I’ll call her back in ten minutes.” Linda gave a curt nod before exiting my office, quietly shutting the door behind her.
Throwing myself back into clearing off my desk, there was a knock on my door not two minutes later. Huffing, I picked my head up in time to see Curtis Donn enter, one of the managing partners of Winthrop, Krueger, and Donn.
“How are you getting on?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorframe, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, when I knew the opposite was true. The firm was always under scrutiny, based solely on the clients they represented. If the client was dirty, then so was their lawyer, right? Not necessarily so. I’d dealt with some shady-ass people during my career, but I was always by the book.
Curtis was the youngest of the three managing partners, putting him in his late fifties. He was a stocky man standing at almost six foot with dark cropped hair. I didn’t know much about his personal life other than he’d been married for twenty-seven years and had three daughters.
“I’m getting there,” I answered. “Now if I could only find Sotter’s file, I’d be all dandy.”
“Yeah, sorry about that one. I hate to pawn her off on you but based on your expertise with these proceedings, you were the best man for the job.” He smirked, and I narrowed my eyes. I had no reason not to trust Curtis, and I’d put in my dues, of course, but if I kept receiving clients like Amber Sotter, I was going to have a real problem.
I knew how lucky I was to have a job at their firm, the largest on the east coast. Most lawyers would kill for my position, but it didn’t mean I’d roll over and take every shit case they didn’t want to deal with themselves.
I’d owned my own practice back in California, but after the divorce, I moved to change things up a little. While I enjoyed being the boss before, there was something to be said about letting someone else make all the big decisions.
He knocked twice on the doorframe, finishing his visit with “Well, let us know if you need anything.” A raise of his brows and a cluck of his tongue and he was gone, but only five minutes of semipeace passed before there was another person at my door.
“I figured if you were able to call me back in ten minutes, then there wasn’t any reason why you couldn’t see me in person.” A southern twang curled around some of her words, and I knew exactly who was interrupting me, unannounced, before I even picked up my head.
Amber Sotter.
Hollywood’s biggest pain in the ass.
Linda stood in the doorway, mouthing, “Sorry,” before closing the door.
“Please come in, Mrs. Sotter.” I stood and gestured toward the chair in front of my desk. Instead of adhering, she sauntered toward the leather couch on the other side of the room, planting her curvy ass as if we weren’t strangers. Sure, she was my client, but we’d never met before.
“Please call me Amber. Besides, I won’t be Sotter too much longer, hopefully.” She pursed her lips and gave me a brazen wink. “You’re quite the handsome devil, aren’t you? Any chance of an after-hours meeting?” She slowly crossed her legs, most likely doing her best impression of Sharon Stone’s infamous scene in Basic Instinct.
She was beautiful, her long dark hair brushing just past her tits. Her long legs went on for what seemed like forever, accompanied by a plump ass and a small waist, but she wasn’t my type. And even if she was, her reputation preceded her, and there was no way I would ever get tangled up with the likes of her.
“Let me stop you right there. I don’t fraternize with my clients. Ever. So any thoughts you have . . . get rid of them.” I walked around to the front of my desk, sat on the edge and gave her an annoyed look before crossing my legs at the ankles.
“Feisty, too,” she purred, licking her lips before running her fingers up and down her leg, doing her best to draw my attention there, but I kept my eyes on her face, my patience wearing thin. “Oh fine,” she conceded. “You win.”
“I’m not winning anything. I’m your lawyer, and as such, I’m here to represent you to the best of my ability.” Pushing off the desk, I walked back toward my seat and sat down, inhaling a choppy breath before making eye contact with her once more. “Now, what can I do for you?”