I had assumed Max knew the topic for the meeting and just had chosen not to tell me, but apparently not.
Gino leans so far back in his chair that I'm afraid for a moment it's going to tip over, but it doesn't. He nods at Malcolm, then turns to Max.
"I've recently developed an appreciation for art," he says. "You have an interest in a small gallery in Miami."
"I do," Max says. "It's come in handy from time to time."
"We'd like to buy it."
"Would you."
Max sets his glass down.
"I'm not sure I want to let that go. As I mentioned, it's . . . convenient."
I glance over at Joey D, who is staring at Max with narrowed eyes and an intensity that makes me nervous.
"We'd be willing to pay a premium," Gino says. The chair tilts back another inch and I hold my breath.
Max just smiles, then he leans forward, his elbows on the table. "I think we can work something out that will make us all happy."
Gino also leans forward slightly, and at least now I can stop bracing for him to go over backwards onto the pool deck at any moment.
"I'm listening."
"I started out with a small interest - around 10% - but I've been steadily increasing it over the past few years. I now own 50%. My partners have been thinking about retiring. They own a villa in France. I can, shall we say, give them a little push in that direction."
"And you'll sell the other 50% to us." Gino states this as a fact, not a question.
Max nods. "Indirectly. You set up a foreign investment entity for the purchase."
"You keep one-third," Joey D says. "Gino and I split the other two-thirds."
"No." Max says simply. "I keep fifty or it's no deal."
"Are you trying to fuck with me?" Joey D asks, in a voice that's almost too calm.
Max gives him a level gaze. If he's concerned by the tone the conversation has taken, it doesn't show.
"It would be my pleasure to do business with you involving the art gallery."
"On your terms," Joey D says.
"On mutually agreeable - and extremely beneficial - terms. For all parties."
I pick up the mimosa Gino insisted on ordering for me and take a slow, nervous sip. This could go either way, and I'm scared. It's not like I think someone is going to pull out a gun and start shooting or anything right here on the rooftop pool deck of this fancy NYC hotel, but there are undercurrents here I can't begin to understand.
"Our history with your father only gets you so far," Joey D says.
"Likewise," Max says and, if it's possible, the tension in the air increases. I notice Gabe slip his hand under the table. I wondered why he wasn't really dressed for sitting by the pool. His light-colored pants and t-shirt covered with a linen jacket seems a bit overdressed.
Now I realize the jacket is probably concealing the fact that he's carrying a gun.
I notice a look pass between him and Max - it's so fast I almost missed it - and Gabe relaxes slightly. His hand moves back onto the table. Presumably Max signaled him to stand down.
Max turns back to Joey D. "If the fifty percent is not satisfactory to you, then you can acquire a different gallery. No hard feelings."
Holy shit. I'm holding my breath now. Can you even say no to people like Gino and Joey D?
The silence stretches out, then Gino give a rough bark of a laugh, and motions to the server to bring him another drink.
"Fifty percent it is," he pronounces, "but you can't blame us for trying." He shakes his head and looks over at Joey D. "Just like his old man," Gino says, and Joey D slowly nods.
I'm still wondering what my role is in all this. Probably draft some agreements, sure, but isn't that what Malcolm does?
I don't have to wonder long.
Malcolm looks at me, notices I've barely touched my food. "Not hungry?"
Actually I feel my appetite coming back, and I pick up my tuna salad on croissant sandwich and take a small bite.
"I was just distracted by all the business discussions," I tell him.
Malcolm nods. "I asked Gino to pull you in because I'd like some help with the agreements. I'm a tax lawyer, as you know, so I can cover us there. But we want the documentation to be perfect on the purchase and sale, the commissions for the new pieces we'll be bringing in, everything else we need to show this is a legit operation."
I nod. "You do know I'm a criminal lawyer, not business law or mergers and acquisitions, right?"
"Hell, yes," Gino says, "a good criminal lawyer can make sure there aren't any, you know, red flags on this transaction."
Everyone chuckles and I fake a smile. Sounds to me like I'm about to become an accessory to another crime.
"Seriously, though," Malcolm says, and I'm thinking, what, I thought this was serious. "Your law firm handles M&A transactions all the time. You have access to all kinds of deals we can model this after."
"I guess . . ." I say.
It's true. Every lawyer in the firm has access to a shared directory of documents relating to all the firm's clients. The question is how I explain downloading those files to my laptop if anyone notices.
"Let me go over the key points with you," Malcolm says, and we spend the next hour doing just that. Meanwhile, Gino and Max have moved to a pair of chaises and stretched out to "get some sun." It's crazy coming from Florida to stretch out by a pool in New York City and get some sun, but I remind myself that Max and I are the only ones coming from Florida. Gino lives in New York, and Joey D is from New Jersey.
Joey D is over by the small outside bar chatting with the female bartender, and Bull is standing over by the wall smoking a cigarette. I'm pretty sure that isn't allowed here, even though it's outdoor space.
I'm also pretty sure no one is going go up to him and tell him to stop.
Gabe disappeared after a few quiet words with Max.
I spend the next hour going over the main points and the documents needed with Malcolm. I understand the nuts and bolts of the transaction, but not all the underlying reasons, and I'm certainly not going to ask Malcolm to explain exactly how money will be laundered through the art gallery.
Maybe I don't even need to know that.
Or maybe Max will explain it to me later.
When Malcolm and I finish up I walk over to where Max and Gino are deep in conversation. By now they've moved out of the sun and are back at the table sitting across from each other. As soon as I approach they stop talking. Max looks up at me, takes my hand, and pulls me onto his lap and gives me a quick but very familiar kiss.
"Get everything worked out with Malcolm?" he asks me, and I nod.
Max runs his hand absently along my leg, then rests it on my bare knee. I know he's just doing all this for Gino's benefit, but my body didn't get that memo and is tingling everywhere his hand touches.
Max is making it clear that I belong to him.
I wish it could be true.
"You kids should enjoy the pool," Gino says, and I almost choke at anyone calling Max a "kid." But I guess since Gino is a - well, I'm not sure what - a family friend? A business associate? Something else? Since he has some kind of longstanding relationship with Max's father, he's probably known Max since he was, literally, a kid.
Max grins. "Really, Gino?"
Gino shakes his head. "Yeah, I forgot that pool you have down there in Miami beats anything the hotel has to offer. I'm sure the two of you came to New York with plans other than lounging by the pool. But me? I enjoy it."
I smile and nod pleasantly, but it hits me again that I've never even been to Max's house. Gino is imagining me with Max in some luxurious oasis at Max's family home. Which I've never seen, much less hung out at with Max. It's just one more reminder that Max and I really don't know each other very well.
And I wonder, why hasn't he ever taken me to his home? The apartment over the club is obviously not where he lives. It's just where he keeps some clothes. And takes women from the club who he has sex with, says a small little voice in my head, but I silence it.
To be honest, the way my body is heating up right now sitting on Max's lap, I wouldn't mind getting in the pool just to cool off. But taking off my cover-up and walking in front of Gino in my bikini is not on the list of things that would be smart to do.
Gino returns to one of the chaises by the pool, stripping off his shirt and stretching out to get some sun. He's a heavy guy, but surprisingly his body hasn't run to fat, despite the apparent appetite for food and alcohol. He looks solid, so maybe there's something to that daily lap swimming and steam room regimen he described.
We're alone at the table now, and I move to get up but Max's grip tightens around my waist.
"Where do you think you're going?" His voice is low and mischievous.
I nod to the chair I sat in earlier when we were having lunch.
"I don't think so," Max says, and his hand moves from my knee, sliding a little further up the inside of my thigh.
"Max."
He gives me one of those half smiles as his thumb makes slow circles on my skin and my pulse increases. "Hadley."
"I'm serious," I hiss at him.
"Do you have to meet with Malcolm later?"
"No," I tell him. "I'm going to get back with him later when we're in Miami with some modified contact templates."
Max frowns. "Don't have any direct communications by email or otherwise until I figure out the best way to handle this."
"Okay."
"I don't want anything that doesn't come across as completely legitimate being traced back to you." He pauses, considers. "Obviously I could hire you directly through the art gallery, but it would look very odd to retain a criminal defense lawyer to handle M&A work, and commission agreements."
"I don't understand why Gino wants me involved in the first place," I say, keeping my voice low even though Gino appears to have dozed off on his chaise.
"First of all," Max says, "you passed the test for having brains in Las Vegas. Malcolm was impressed, so Gino was impressed." He pauses. "Second, we try to keep things pretty close to home. Gino's lawyer is his brother-in-law. Mine is my girlfriend. Therefore loyalty is assumed."
"And if Gino finds out I'm not your girlfriend?" I ask in a whisper.
"He won't."
Before I realize what he's doing, Max slides his hand around under my bottom and presses me closer. Even though the dress I'm wearing is a cover-up for my bathing suit, his warm hand against my bare skin here on the rooftop terrace feels racy, decadent. His lips cover mine and he's kissing me, deeply and thoroughly and I'm kissing him back. When he finally takes his mouth off mine I'm having trouble catching my breath.
Gino is turned away from us, facing the pool, presumably asleep, so why . . . ? Then I shift back on Max's lap to lean against him and see Joey D, sitting on a barstool again, leaning back against the bar watching us as he flirts with the pretty bartender.
I tip my head back so my lips are close to Max's ear.
"When we get back to our suite and no one's watching, there won't be any reason for you to put your hands on me."
"Really?" Max says, his voice low and sexy and full of dangerous promise. "Is that what you think?"