Page 109 of Breaking His Law

“Morning, beautiful,” he replies, not looking up from his computer screen. “You need to go straight to the boardroom, bosses’ orders.” He points to the closed door then does a mock salute. “Feeling better?” Looking up at me, he smiles, and I sigh with relief.

“Yes, I’m much better, thank you,” I reply.

I love my job and I’m excited about seeing Nathan again.

I’ve missed him so much.

I know where I should be—here with him. In his apartment. Just everywhere.

Today’s going to be a good day. Well, I hope so.

I hope he believes me.

Love conquers all, right? It just has to.

Drawing an invisible line in the air with his finger, he sweeps it up and down, motioning toward my deep purple dress, Joseph says, “I love that color on you, it makes your eye color pop.” He pops theP. “You had better go, they’ve been waiting on you for twenty minutes.”

“They? Who’s they?” And why is everyone in the office before me today? I’m clearly losing my touch.

“The four of them. I don’t know what’s going on, but it seems important. They’ve barely said a word to each other since I arrived.” Joseph picks up the ringing phone. “Good morning, Hart Law. Joseph speaking, how may I direct your call?”

I wonder what’s happening today. Maybe a big case is coming our way and we’re preparing for a storm.

Unplugging my laptop, I lift it from my desk and make my way to the boardroom, humming to myself as I push open the door.

My singing dies in the air when I enter the frosty room. The atmosphere is so tense you could cut it with a knife.

Max, Eli, and Cole are all seated around the table while Nathan is standing next to the window staring out across the bustle of the morning city below.

He looks… I don’t know, I can’t put my finger on it. Mad? Upset?

I can’t work him out.

“What’s happened?” I ask and pull out a seat to sit around the table as Max, Eli, and Cole remain silent and shift in their seats, looking uneasy.

I flit my eyes up to find Nathan’s jaw tightening, but he doesn’t speak right away.

“Is it bad?” I question, now really worried as the air turns heavier from the weight of unsaid words.

Nathan exhales sharply before answering. “You tell us—what’s worse? Finding out that someone you employed has been plotting against you and your family from the very start? Or maybe it’s the fact that she deliberately sought out the bar where the eldest son of the family drank, seduced him to gain his trust, and then set out to dismantle his business? Or perhapsit’s stealing archived records from a case connected to her own family—does that qualify as ‘bad’ in your book?”

Oh no. This can’t be happening.

“But maybe,” he continues, turning slowly, his voice steadier and more controlled than I’ve ever heard it, “the lowest of the low is discovering that this employee used inside information—false information, I might add—from a woman who has been hell-bent for years on damaging the reputation of Hart Law—to try and take down a man she believed had bribed his way to an acquittal for a client she was convinced was guilty.”

The thought of him believing I would betray him is the last thing I want.

It may have been my intention at first, but I never expected to fall in love with him.

Now, I know one thing for certain—I could never betray him.

“Nathan.” His name comes out in a rush because I’m desperate to explain everything I’ve discovered in the last few days. “Please…” I plead.

He holds up his hand to stop me. “Let me finish.” He unbuttons his dress jacket and sits down at the head of the table. It feels like he’s a million miles away from me and slipping out of my grasp with every tick of the clock on the wall.

My eyes rove wildly, scanning the room for help from his brothers, but I know I won’t get it as they remain as still as statues while my body trembles with panic.

“You,” Nathan starts, leaning back in his chair, “Ms. Donovan, were planning to betray me, my family and more importantly, my father. Here at Hart Law, we are lawful. This”—he slides a piece of paper to Cole, who is sitting closest to me, who places it on the table in front of me—“is the crash report. The real one. Not the one Julie Hanson fabricated. You can tell from the positioning of the watermark, and the fact that it’s on government-issued paper is a dead giveaway.” He’s too relaxed,too controlled, and his grip on the armrest of his chair tightens, and I know he’s desperately doing everything in his power to settle his inner tornado.

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