An hour later, it was obvious I wasn’t going to make it to the meeting with Jillian. Any ballpark number Louie and Terrance came up with and handed the mediator was rejected on the spot by a solemn Christian Miller before he even dragged his client to a private room to discuss it. Dad’s back curled forward like a shrimp. He shook his head and closed his eyes in disbelief. We were getting nowhere fast.
“I don’t understand any of this,” Dad told me, pale as a ghost. “What is she trying to achieve? If we take it to court, everyone is going to get hurt. She must know that.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. She knows the truth. She won’t go to court.” I patted his arm, but he didn’t look convinced.
Discreetly, I slipped my phone under my desk and texted Jillian that I wasn’t going to make it to our Brooklyn meeting. My best friend’s reply was prompt.
Don’t worry about it. Best of luck to Conrad. Keep me posted. X
“Are we boring you, Ms. Roth?” Christian drawled. I nearly jumped out of my skin and bumped my knee against the desk. Internally, I screamed in pain. Outwardly, I grinned.
“Funny you ask, Mr. Miller. The answer is yes, in fact. You, specifically, do bore me.”
He’d been targeting me ever since I’d walked into Van Der Hout building. I got that this was business and that he was charging Amanda Gispen a fortune he needed to justify somehow, but not on my back.
Christian popped his knuckles, his eyes never leaving mine. “My apologies. Miss Lesavoy, would you be so kind as to fetch Ms. Roth a copy of Us Weekly? Perhaps she’s in the mood for some fine literature.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, meeting his gaze head-on. “Make it the Enquirer, Miss Lesavoy. And could I, like, get the audio version? I’m not super good with words.” I adopted the dumbest, airiest tone I could produce.
“Perhaps you two could engage in verbal foreplay after we finish the negotiations,” Louie scolded me. “Counsel, I—”
“Put your phone on the desk, Ms. Roth,” Christian snapped at me over Louie, his eyes boring into mine with open hatred.
What in the ever-loving hell is wrong with this man?
It was Dad’s turn to spin his head and look at me. A haughty smile touched my lips. “Sorry, Mr. Miller, did I miss the memo where you’re the boss of me?”
“Arya,” Dad hissed, shocked. “Please.”
Christian’s eyes narrowed. “I suggest you listen to your daddy and put your phone down. My time costs money.”
“Pissing you off is worth the invoice,” I retorted. “I’ll even throw in foreign currencies and some Bitcoin if it means seeing you suffer.”
Christian let out a metallic chuckle. “You haven’t changed.”
“Excuse me?” I snapped. His smile vanished in a second.
“I said you need to change.”
“That’s not what you said. I have ears.”
“You have a mouth too. And that’s the organ you seem to be needing more control of.”
“Who raised you?” My eyes were wide and wild, I could tell.
He tossed the documents in front of him aside. “No one, Ms. Roth. Interested in hearing my life story?”
“Only if it has a tragic and abrupt ending.”
Well, well. This got off the rails real fast.
Dad put his hand on my wrist, his eyes pleading. “What’s gotten into you, sweetheart?”
Finally, I put my phone down on the desk, feeling a little sick. I couldn’t take my eyes off Christian. His teal irises glimmered back at me. There was something frightening about them.
The negotiation proceeded for twenty more minutes, in which I stayed （bitterly） silent. Each time we thought we were getting somewhere, we hit a roadblock. Finally, Terrance rubbed at his sweaty forehead.
“Mister, I don’t understand. You got yourself a reputation of a lawyer who settles out of the courtroom, yet you’ve refused every single proposition we came up with.”
“That’s because I believe this should go to court.” Christian lounged back, readjusting his maroon tie, which, tragically, looked lovely with his pale-gray vested suit. So it was true, then. The devil did wear Prada.
“Then what did you invite us here for?” Louie’s lower lip trembled with rage.
“I wanted to read the room.” Christian examined his perfect, square fingernails, looking like a surly, spoiled prince bored out of his mind.
“Read the room?” Terrance spluttered, at the same time that my father piped up, for the first time since the meeting had started. “You cannot seriously want to take this to court! This will become a circus—”