Page 4 of Barristers & Bones

Gideon’s lips twitched. “That’s alright. I’ll call Klim and ask him myself.” He reached over to pick up his phone.

I sighed loudly. “I called him the male version of a period cramp. See? You don’t want me as an intern here. I’ve been told I have no filter and ask way too many questions.”

“Noted. Why do you think Roman can get you out of the internship?”

“After twenty minutes of… discussing the issue, Klim promised that if Mr. Fowler would agree to release me, I could go back to my original mentor.”

“And this was after you called him a period cramp. Anything else that might be pertinent to this issue?”

I rocked on my heels and looked around. “I may have said a few other things, but I don’t recall.”

“That’s a typical attorney evasion.”

I shrugged sheepishly. “Anyway. I’m sure you have other law students interested in interning at your firm. Students who’d be a much better fit here.”

“We always have requests, but I’m not sure they’d be a better fit.”

I ignored that last part. “So, will you call Klim and let him know your firm will release me?”

He smiled benignly. “As much as I’d like to help, you need to speak directly with Roman. I’m also curious what you’ll call him if he tells you no.”

Before I could answer, the door to the office behind me opened, and a tall, coldly handsome man in an expensive, custom-made suit strode out. His charcoal-brown eyes landed on me and his black eyebrow lifted. He had a lean, fit build, and a wicked scar running along his neck.

My back went up, and my palms got sweaty. I didn’t like or trust attractive, well-groomed men; they tended to be self-centered pricks.

Gideon nodded to the man coming toward us. “You’ll have to put your case to Roman himself, Ms. Cross. But if it were up to me, I’d say you’d fit in well here.”

“I’m Roman Fowler, and you’re Ms. Cross, I assume?” A frigid, amused smirk tugged the corners of the man’s mouth.

“Yes.” I held out my hand, and when we shook, a zing raced up my arm. His large, calloused palm felt solid and cool as he squeezed my hand and then let go. I wondered where the callouses came from.

“Klim Hudson contacted me and told me you’d be coming.” His deep voice was flat.

My stomach dropped because I wanted to get to Fowler before Klim did. Stupid, bitchy Brenna.

Plastering on a benign, pleasant smile, I met his gaze. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Fowler. I assume you have several law students who’d love to have you as their mentor.”

“Probably.”

“I’ve already lined up a mentorship with another attorney, so if you could tell Klim Hudson you’re alright with having another student assigned to you, I’ll leave you to your billable hours.”

“No.”

“No?” My voice had gone up a few octaves.

“That’s right. No.”

“Does that no mean you don’t want me to take up any more of your time, or no, you won’t release me?”

His lip curled. “I’m not releasing you.”

“Why? I don’t want to be here, and you can easily find someone who does.”

“Because if I have to mentor someone, it might as well be you. Now tell me exactly why you don’t want to be here.”

The fake smile slid off my face. “Look, Mr. Fowler, I want out of this internship.”

He studied me. “You’ve made that clear. Why, Ms. Cross?”

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