Sex and the Billionaire Crime Boss

Ch. 8: New Business

Instead of turning the corner at the end of the hallway, Martina opens a door and gestures for me to go inside.

"Here we are," she says.

I stare. There are floor to ceiling windows on not one but two walls that look out over the Miami skyline, and the space is about five times the size of my office in Philadelphia.

"You're not serious," I say.

"Oh, don't mind about the furniture. That's just a placeholder until the office designer meets with you."

"The furniture?" My head is spinning. "No, I mean, this is a corner office."

"Well," she says as if she's stating the obvious, "you are going to be heading up the firm's new criminal law section."

I'm already worried other lawyers who've been here for several years are going to resent me. Doesn't having a corner office make that worse? It's like I'm living in a different world. Back in my old office, I was happy if the printer just worked.

Before I can tell her that extravagant offerings won't automatically warm me to my grandfather, my phone buzzes in my pocket. When I pull it out, Max's name flashes across the screen.

Strange. I thought he was in meetings all day.

I hope he's not expecting us to pick up where we left off last night.

"Max," I say as I connect the call, "I can't really talk right now. I'm at the office."

"Hadley, I have a question for you," Max says.

"One sec," I tell him, and turn to Martina. "Can we do the tour later?"

"Sure," she says, giving me a look I know means she'll be asking about the call later. "Just don't forget, you have a meeting with your grandfather at 9:00. He likes people to be on time."

"Thanks," I say. She gives me a little wave, and I turn my attention back to my phone as I walk into my office.

"What is it, Max?"

His voice is calm, but there's some sort of undercurrent in it that I don't understand.

"Why didn't you tell me Andrew Reese is your grandfather?"

I don't know what question I was expecting but it certainly wasn't that one. And just like that, my stomach gets that funny feeling again.

"Oh. Well, no reason, really. It just didn't come up." I ease into the executive chair and wonder why I feel vaguely guilty. As if I'd been hiding something.

"It just didn't come up? Not even when I mentioned that I was familiar with the law firm?" Max persists, and yeah, there's a definite edge to his voice now.

Why would he care who my grandfather is?

"Max, we were two strangers chatting on a plane. I didn't mention it because that would have led to more questions about my family, and I really didn't want to talk about it." I'm using my most reasonable tone of voice, like I'm in front of a jury trying to convince them that my client's actions made perfect sense.

The silence on the other end of the phone is a little troubling.

"Besides," I continue, faltering a little but pushing on, "you said you don't have any business dealings with the firm. Max, why does this matter?"

"Let's just say there's a history between your grandfather and my father."

Well, that's news to me. But it also occurs to me that Maxwell Bennet wasn't exactly forthcoming about his own family situation.