Page 42 of Twins for the Off-Limits Lawyer

I let that sink in, watching faces in the crowd. I caught sight of a woman in the third row—diamonds at her throat, exhaustion in her eyes—nodding along with my words. A man near the back actually laughed when I mentioned checking emails, then looked guilty for laughing.

"How many of you haven't taken a real vacation in five years? Come on, be honest." Hands started going up around the room. "How many of you check email on Christmas morning?" More hands. "How many of you feel guilty when you're not working?"

The whole room was with me now. I could feel it, that electricity that happens when you connect with an audience, when you stop performing for them and start talking with them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this isn't just a spa weekend. This is permission to be human again. This is four days of remembering that you are more than your job, more than your obligations, more than what other people need from you."

I started walking across the stage again, building momentum, feeling the room's energy rise with mine.

"And here's the best part—while you're getting that hot stone massage, while you're sipping champagne in a robe that costs more than most people's cars, you're also helping provide clean water to villages that have never seen a spa, never seen a massage table, and never had the luxury of worrying about whether they're working too hard."

The energy in the room was building like a storm front. I could see it in their faces, the way they leaned forward, the way conversations had stopped entirely.

"So I'm going to do something y'all probably haven't seen at one of these fancy auctions." I grinned at them like we were all in on the same secret. "I'm going to be completely honest about what this is worth."

I pointed to the photo again. "This package? If you booked it yourself, you'd pay £12,000 easy. But tonight, because you're here supporting charity, because you're proving that successful people can also be generous people, I'm telling you right now—this is going to someone for £15,000. Not because it's worth more than that, but because the person who gets it is getting something money can't usually buy."

I paused for effect, letting the silence stretch just enough to make them hungry.

"They're getting the right to tell everyone they know that they outbid a room full of London's finest for the last spa weekend available this year. They're getting bragging rights that will last longer than the tan they’ll get at that infinity pool."

Hands were going up around the room like flowers blooming in fast-forward.

"Do I hear £10,000 to start us off?" Immediately, three hands shot up. "£10,000! Now let's get serious. £11,000?" More hands. "£12,000? Come on, people, your stress levels are worth more than that!"

The bidding took off like a rocket. £13,000, £14,000, £15,000. I kept the energy high, the momentum building, making each bid feel like a victory, each bidder feel like they were part of something bigger than themselves.

"£16,000! Going once!" I let the silence stretch just long enough to make them sweat. "Going twice!"

"£18,000!" A woman in the back called out.

"Now that's what I'm talking about! £18,000 for four days of legally required relaxation!" I pointed at her like she'd just won the lottery. "Ma'am, you just bought yourself the best guilt-free vacation of your life!"

The room erupted in applause that felt like thunder. I looked down at our table to see Edward's colleagues staring at me like I'd just performed actual magic. Edward himself looked well, he looked like a man trying to process several different emotions at once.

But it was Lady Victoria's face that made my breath catch. She was watching me with the focused attention of a hawk spotting prey. But it wasn't hunger in her eyes—it was assessment. Like she was calculating exactly how much damage I could do, and exactly how to prevent it.

Luckily the technical issued was fixed by then. I made my way back to our table through congratulations and handshakes, my face flushed with adrenaline and accomplishment. Edward's hand found mine as I sat down, and he gently returned the rescued pearls to my palm, his thumb tracing along my knuckles in a gesture that felt both congratulatory and apologetic.

"My dear girl," Sir Malcolm stood as I approached, "that was absolutely extraordinary."

"Just doing what I do best," I said, settling back into my chair and reaching for my water glass with hands that were only slightly shaking.

Mrs. Chen leaned forward, her earlier condescension replaced by sharp professional interest. "That wasn't just sales instinct. You read that room like a seasoned executive reads a board meeting. Where did you learn to command an audience like that?"

"Trial by fire, mostly," I said. "When you're selling to people at two in the morning, you learn to hold their attention or lose them to infomercials about vacuum cleaners."

Davies, who had barely spoken to me earlier, leaned forward with new interest. "Have you ever considered working in corporate sales? With training, someone with your instincts could be quite successful."

"She already is successful," Edward said quietly, his voice carrying just a hint of warning.

"Of course, of course," Davies waved dismissively. "But let's be honest, shopping channels..." He trailed off with a laugh that said more than words could.

"Your... companion is wasted in her current career," Sir Malcolm said, carefully sidestepping any labels while his eyes twinkled with what I now realized might not be just professional interest. "Someone with her natural talent should be in real sales. Corporate acquisitions, perhaps. We're always looking for people who can sell anything."

I felt Edward go very still beside me, his hand tightening almost imperceptibly around mine. When I glanced at him, his face was carefully blank in that way that meant he was thinking too hard.

"She's quite content where she is," he said finally.

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