Page 29 of Barristers & Bones

Klim stared, giving me no sympathy. “I know you can both negotiate and work out a mutually beneficial schedule. There’s a reason I paired you two, he’s got a few things to learn from you.”

I threw up my hands. “Klim, why is that my job? And I don’t even know what that means!” Frustration boiled, and I wanted to reach over his desk and yank on his stupid bowtie. I didn’t care what Roman could learn from me, and I was in no mood. I needed to get through law school, find a job, and start tackling my student loans.

Klim raised his eyebrow. “Do what good lawyers do. Compromise, find common ground, and be flexible.”

“It’s hard to be flexible when I just want to punch him in the throat.”

Klim took off his glasses and gazed at me carefully. “I’ll end this mentorship and reinstate your original choice if you give me a valid reason to do so. Frankly, I think you working with Arthur Thorgeson is a waste of your time and potential. He’s well over seventy and he worksmaybethree full days a week. But if you can show me that interning at Roman’s firm somehow harms you, or he’s done something to offend you, I’ll make the change.”

I groaned and sank into the chair in front of his desk. “You know I don’t have anything like that. He’s the quintessential attorney who knows how to skate the line but not step across it.”

Klim put his glasses back on. “Then negotiate with him. You may even find you don’t loathe him.”

“I never said I loathed him.”

He gave me a small, pleased grin. “Good. You may not want to admit it, but you two are well-paired.”

“How do you know him?”

“I know his family.” He studied me and leaned forward. “Let me tell you something about Roman that he would hate for you to know. He’s a brilliant strategist, and he did very well in school. His father wanted to send him to an expensive, exclusive boarding school as a teenager, but Roman wanted to attend his regular high school and play lacrosse with his friends, so he dug in. His father then wanted to send him off to England, and things escalated. When his father took Roman’s dog and had her put down, Roman went a little crazy. His mother didn’t intervene.”

“Was the dog sick?”

Klim shuffled some papers on his desk. “No. She was a sweet, beautiful, perfectly healthy four-year-old chocolate lab who adored Roman.”

“Oh, God.” I felt sick to my stomach.

“And then his father had Roman shipped off the Hell.”

“I’ve heard about that ranch in Arizona,” I replied softly.

He stared at me with a haunted look in his eyes. “You two have more in common than you know.Pleasehelp him.”

Chapter 9

Luna

On Tuesday morning, I walked into the reception area alone, and Brenna looked up from her desk.

“Oh, you didn’t drive with Roman? Is he getting bored already? And what a perfectly basic Walmart outfit you have on.” Her smile was as fake as her eyelashes.

Shaking my head, I glanced at her as I strode by. “I don’t mind sparring with you, but you need to up your game. And your nose is shiny.” Her hand automatically went for her purse before she could stop herself.

I walked through the doors to the offices and headed for Gideon’s desk. He looked up and smiled. “Good morning, Ms. Cross, I’m glad you came back.”

“Hello, Gideon, I wish I could say the same.” I winced at how rude that sounded. “But it’s always nice to see you.”

I walked into Roman’s office. “Take a seat,” he said without looking up.

“No, I think I’ll stand. So this is what it feels like to be summoned. I never got in trouble in school, so I never experienced the dreaded trip to the principal’s office.”

“That’s a little dramatic.” Roman finally gave me his attention, dark eyes appraising.

Despite knowing better, I opened our negotiations. “Look, I'm grateful for the learning curve here, and as much as it pains me to admit, I like the field trips. Your clients are varied and interesting, and you attempt to put up with my curiosity, my ‘restless mind syndrome’ as it’s been labeled by my roommates. But I need to keep my grades up, which means I need to study and spend time at school.”

His lips quirked. “Is that like restless leg syndrome?”

“Pretty much.”

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