Chapter 48: Available Lawyer

"I would advise that in the future, when you are cleaning messes, make sure there are no loose ends."

Victor slowly lifted his eyes. "I have been running my business for years without incident, you stupid, spoiled fuck. You were born into money I made. You have never had to work a day in your life because I did all the damned work for you. Do not lecture me on how to handle my business."

"You think because you sit at tables with people who inherited titles, you understand how any of this works? You do not understand what it took to build any of it. I gave you one task. One," Victor repeated. "One task in the thirty-four years you have existed, and all I am asking you to do is charm a woman who was already prepared to marry you."

"She is married to someone else!"

"Temporarily. You do not have to love Naomi Bennett. You do not even have to like her. You need her cooperative long enough to marry you and sign what needs to be signed. Afterward, she becomes irrelevant."

That, at least, Callum could live with.

"Fine. Fine! I’ll handle it." He picked up the gift bag from the desk. "But I swear to God, I will make that fucker rue the day he ever crossed me."

"Do whatever you like once this is finished. Until then, do not antagonize Dorian Heathcliffe."

Callum gave him a cold smile. No promises there. He marched out of the office just as angrily as he had entered, carrying the bracelet Dorian had so arrogantly returned.

Dorian thought he had won something. When those six months were over, Dorian Heathcliffe would learn exactly how badly he had miscalculated.

Naomi was going to pick Callum at the end of the damned six months. She would even be begging to marry him.

*****

Dorian spent most of Saturday on the entertainment floor with his friends. It was probably the closest thing any of them had to a normal weekend. There was food scattered across the bar, some game playing on one of the enormous screens, and enough arguing over soccer to last them a whole week.

Naomi, meanwhile, had practically moved into her new office. She had disappeared inside sometime that morning.

Every time Dorian passed the third floor, he could hear her working. The rest of the townhouse was considerably less peaceful. A cleaning crew had been moving through the floors since morning.

Dorian mostly stayed out of everyone’s way. He stayed out of Naomi’s way too. The fact that he had gone into her office three separate times before lunch was irrelevant.

The first time, he brought her water. The second time, he appeared with a bowl of fruit. The third visit involved snacks.

It had absolutely nothing to do with wanting an excuse to see her. He did not admit that to himself because there were some thoughts a man was better off not encouraging.

By seven that evening, the cleaning crew had finished and his friends finally began gathering their things.

Daniel was the reason they left at a respectable hour. "I have to pick up the kids from their grandparents," he said, checking his phone.

One of the others complained that seven was hardly a proper ending time. A few minutes later, the last of them disappeared into the elevator.

The townhouse became quiet again. Dorian stood alone on the entertainment floor for a moment, looking around at abandoned glasses, game controllers and the general evidence that grown men with money were not necessarily any more civilized than teenage boys.

He checked the time and headed downstairs. She had been cooped up in that office all day. She needed a break, and since Naomi apparently had no natural instinct to stop working, someone had to interrupt her.

When Dorian reached the third floor, the office door was open. He stopped at the entrance. The room already looked completely different from the pristine space from days ago.

Naomi had claimed it. The large whiteboard was covered with notes, arrows and figures. Coloured papers had appeared across one section of the wall. There were printed menus, handwritten calculations and what looked like several different versions of a service plan.

Dorian leaned against the doorframe. She had gotten a lot done. A ridiculous amount, actually. The printer was busy spitting out another set of pages while Naomi sat at the desk staring at her computer screen.

She frowned.

Typed something.

Deleted it.

Then leaned back with an irritated sigh. Dorian finally stepped inside.

"Problem?"

Naomi swivelled around in the chair. "Just this contract I’m trying to draft." She glanced back at the screen. "I cannot seem to get a hang of it."

"You know I’m a lawyer, right?"

Naomi gave him a dry look. "I had heard rumors."

"All you have to do is ask me."

She immediately shook her head. "I couldn’t possibly ask you to—"

"Ask me, Naomi." He walked farther into the office.

"I’m sure you have a lot to do."

"It’s Saturday night." Dorian stopped beside her chair and leaned over her. His hands came down on both armrests, effectively trapping her between the chair and his body.

"You really don’t have to. I can figure it out." She would work herself into the ground before asking anyone for something.

And for reasons Dorian did not particularly care to examine, that annoyed him. Not because she couldn’t handle herself.

She clearly could. But because she seemed convinced she always had to. He held her gaze.

"Naomi, ask for my help."

"It is a lot of work. You have to..." Naomi started, already preparing the list of reasons why accepting his help would somehow be an unreasonable burden on him.

Dorian stopped her before she could get very far. He placed one finger lightly against her lips and tilted her chin upward until she was looking directly at him. "Ask me," he said, drawing the words out. "Or I am going to make you."