Page 41 of Barristers & Bones

“Nothing I ever want to repeat,” I finished. She nodded solemnly.

The only good thing that came from them bringing up that bloody night was the cousins not giving me any more grief about Roman Fowler.

On Tuesday morning, I knocked on Drakos’s open door. When I walked in, he sat with his suit jacket and tie on, staring at his computer screen. His silk tie was a deep lilac today and looked nice against his charcoal suit and light gray dress shirt.

“I have a few questions about tax law.” He might be the smartass of the group, but the man wore his expensive designer suits well. Without waiting for an invitation, I sat.

“Hello, Luminous Luna. Please, come in. Have a seat.” He enjoyed tacking on obnoxious adjectives to my name.

I was already sitting. “Thanks. I will.”

He leaned back. “Tax law is like playing chess with a dull-witted but tenacious opponent.”

“That’s so helpful. I’m ready for my exam now.”

Rolling his eyes, he leaned back. “Hit me. Then I have a few of my own.”

“How would you determine the yearly valuation of a privately held family company?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “There’s either an asset-based or income approach, and you need to take into account devaluation.” Drakos launched into an explanation that made surprising sense, gave me a few examples, and answered a couple of follow-up questions. I sometimes forgot how smart Drakos was under all his cutting, cynical commentary.

“Now, my question for you.” He steepled his fingers. “Sylvie Spade.”

My back shot straight. “What about her?”

“She’s your roommate and best friend. I’ve run into her a few times.”

His mild comment made me think he’d met Sylvie more than just a time or two, and then I remembered Sylvie’s reaction when she’d seen that photo of Roman and his partners. Groaning, I fisted my hands in my hair. “No. No way. You stay away from her.”

“Why?” he snapped, glaring at me. “We just spent the last twenty minutes of my billable time discussing tax law. I’m good enough to get my brain picked but not good enough for your roommate?”

I held my hands up placatingly. “No offense, okay? I’m sure you’re a great guy, if a little sarcastic, rude, and offensive at times. But Sylvie is… singular, and she’s had trauma in her past.”

Drakos’s gaze sharpened. “What kind of trauma?”

I rolled my shoulders and didn't answer. “She might also be a little crazy. Ezra finished raising her with the Spade cousins.”

“Do you think you’re scaring me?” His smile worried me.

“Her dad–how do I explain this? He’s evil. Like Hitler or Caligula evil, and sheenjoystaunting him.”

He leaned forward and palmed his desk. “All that makes me want her even more. Tell me about her, you owe me.”

I sighed and threw up my hands. “She’s viciously street-smart and has this wicked humor that can gut you while she’s making you laugh. She’s also a chess player.”

His eyes went sharp. “She plays chess?”

“Do you not knowanythingabout her? She’s won chess tournaments, and she’sgood.See? You don’t even know her. You need to–”

“No, and thank you for the information. You can leave now.” He turned back to his computer.

“You should do the right thing and change your mind.” He wasn’t going to change his mind, I knew this when he pointed to his door.

“Fine, asshole. But I’m warning her about you.”

A slow smile spread across his face as he started typing on his laptop. “Good. She’ll know I’m coming.”

“Your firm is aptly named. You’re all fuckers, and we’re not done with this conversation.” I stalked out of his office and ran straight into Roman.

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