Is that amusement in his eyes? That had better not be amusement. I examine his broad shoulders and no doubt impressive chest beneath the orange jumpsuit. How can he look sexy in orange? Plus, the man hasn’t been with a woman in seven years—he’d be on fire. A little part of me, one I’ll never admit to, considers the offer just for the no doubt multiple and wild orgasms. “I don’t smoke and you’re not my type. But no worries. My firm is taking your case pro bono.”
He latches onto the wrong part of the statement. “What’s your type?”
I inhale through my nose, trying to keep a handle on my temper, which doesn’t exist.
“Don’t tell me,” he continues, his gaze probing deep. “Three piece suit, Armani, luxury vehicles?”
“Actually, that’s my best friend’s type,” I drawl. Well, if you add in guns, the Irish mafia, and a frightening willingness to kill.
Alexei scratches the whiskers across his cut jaw. “Right. When was the last time you were with an actual man? You know, somebody who doesn’t ask for guidance every step of the way?”
The fact that I don’t remember is not one I’ll share. My thighs heat, and my temper sparks. “Was this approach charming seven years ago?”
“Not really. Though I didn’t need to be charming back then.”
True. He was the heir to one of the four most powerful social media companies in the world before he’d gone to prison. Apparently his family had deserted him immediately. “You might want to give it a try now.”
His eyes warm to dark embers, rendering me temporarily speechless. “You don’t think I can charm the panties off you?”
“All right. You need to dial it down.” I hold out a hand and press down on imaginary air. “A lot.”
“Dial what down?”
“You,” I hiss. “All of this. The obnoxious, rudely sexist, prowling panther routine. Use your brain, if you have one. It’s our first meeting, and you’re driving me crazy. You want me on your side.”
“I’d rather have you under me.”
I shut my eyes and slam both index fingers to the corners, pressing in. This is unbelievable.
“Getting a headache? I know a remedy for that.”
I make the sound of a strangled cat.
His laugh is warm. Rich. Deep.
Jolting, I open my eyes. The laugh doesn’t fit with the criminal vibe. It’s enthralling.
He stops.
I miss the sound immediately. Maybe I am going insane.
Using one finger, he draws the paper across the table. “Pen.”
I fumble in my bag for a blue pen and hand it over.
He signs the retainer quickly and shoves it back at me. “What’s the plan?”
The switch in topics gives me whiplash. Even so, I step on firm ground again. “The prosecuting attorney in your case was just arrested for blackmail, peddling influence, and extortion . .. along with the judge, his co-conspirator, who presided over your trial and sentenced you.”
His expression doesn’t alter. “So you can me get free?”
“I don’t know. Best guess is that I can get you a new trial.”
“Will I be free for the duration?”
“I’ll make a motion but can’t guarantee it.” I tilt my head. “Your family’s influence would be helpful.”
His chin lowers in an intimidating move. “I don’t have a family. Don’t mention them again.”
I blink. “One more comment.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m sorry about your brother’s death.” His younger brother, rather his half-brother, was killed a month ago, probably by my friend’s boyfriend, if one could call Thorn Beathach a boyfriend.
Alexei just stares at me.
I feel like a puzzle being solved. “There’s a chance his death was part of some sort of social media turf war against Thorn Beathach, who owns Malice Media.”
“So?”
“Thorn is currently dating my best friend, so if there’s a conflict of interest, I want you to know about it.” Not that anybody would ever catch Thorn, if he had killed Alexei’s brother after the man had injured Alana. I’m still not sure he was the killer, anyway.
“Are you finished mentioning my family?” Alexei’s tone strongly suggests that I am.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He cocks his head. “How many criminal trials have you won?”
