were there when she admitted she hates lawyers,” Trev reminded him.
And Stone’s face paled. He released a ragged breath.
“If she hates us all so much, why the hell does she do our PR?” Ronan asked. He was clearly on board.
Even though they were all lawyers who loved to argue, none of them could belabor the point that it all made perfect sense. It had to be Allison McCann. She was the one who’d been selling them out and sabotaging them.
“Why?” Simon asked.
“Who cares?” Trev shot back at him.
He didn’t give a damn why she’d done it. He just intended to stop her.
That wasn’t all he planned to do to the mole. He wasn’t going to risk frostbite. But he was intrigued and attracted enough to see if there was any thawing the ice goddess that was Allison McCann.
She had been summoned. She hated that. She had her own business. She was the boss. But if she wanted to keep that business going, she had to have clients. So she worked for them. They were the boss. And she was their bitch.
Allison had learned young how to be a bitch. She’d been taught by the biggest one she’d ever known. But she had no time to think about the past because the elevator bell dinged, announcing her arrival to the floor of Street Legal.
These were her best clients but her least favorite. The things she did for them...
Would have kept her awake had she had a conscience anymore. She’d sold that long ago—along with her soul—in order to have her own business. With a sigh, she stepped off the elevator and headed through the reception area.
The receptionist, a former gang member, watched her approach. She had never understood why they’d chosen his face to be the one clients saw first. No smile curved his lips or warmed his dark eyes. He was not welcoming. At least he had never been welcoming to her.
But then few people—besides the media—were. Reporters waited impatiently for the next press release she issued. They were always happy to see her because they knew she delivered the dirt.
“They’re all in Trev’s office,” Miguel told her as he jerked a thumb in that direction.
So apparently, the partners of Street Legal were waiting impatiently for her, as well. Because the summons had been last-minute, she’d had to move some other appointments around, and Edward, her assistant, had been no help with that. He’d claimed he had a migraine and disappeared into the men’s room, leaving her to make all the calls herself.
She really needed a new assistant. Maybe she should ask Miguel if he had a friend who might be interested in the position. She could use someone less welcoming than Edward. He tended to talk too much to clients and to the press.
She nodded in acknowledgment and headed down the hall that led to Trevor Sinclair’s office. Excitement quickened her pulse with each click of her heels against the hardwood. She wasn’t excited to see him, though. She was just excited because he must have finally taken on a new case.
And of all the partners, his cases were the easiest for which to advocate. Unfortunately, he was not the easiest of the partners for her to be around; he was the one who made her constantly remind herself that she did not like and could not trust lawyers.
When she arrived at the open door to his office, she found them all looking at her the same way, as if they did not like and could not trust her. She shivered at the coldness in their gazes.
Miguel must have alerted Trevor to her arrival. He was the one standing at the door, holding it open for her. He was also the first to shield that initial cold glance and replace it with a grin.
The grin unsettled her more than the coldness and not just because it made him, with his dark auburn hair and deep green eyes, look even more handsome. It unsettled her because her mother had always delivered her most vicious insults with a smile.
Maybe the partners hadn’t called her here to take on a new assignment. Maybe they’d called her here to inform her there would be no new assignments for her at Street Legal.
For the past few months they’d been using her firm less and less even though they’d probably needed her services more. They’d had some bad press after one of them had been reported to the bar association. Word had also gotten out that they had been representing lying clients.
She could have turned that bad press around for them. But they’d been reluctant to involve her and hadn’t even really explained what had happened.
What was going on at Street Legal?
And why did she feel as if it was going to affect her as well now?
“Come in,” Trevor Sinclair urged her.
She hadn’t even realized she’d hesitated in the hallway. But if she stepped inside that room, the odds were not in her favor. There were four of them and only one of her. Maybe she should have let Edward come along as he’d begged at the last moment. But she’d reminded him of his “migraine” and told him to take it easy the rest of the morning. Not that Edward would have been any help to her in this situation.
These four alpha dogs would have eaten him alive had he tried to come to her defense. Not that Allison needed defending from anyone.
She’d learned young to be able to take care of herself. And if they fired her, she would be fine. She had other clients.
But she felt a curious pang in her heart over the thought of losing them. Maybe it was just pride. But then she stepped closer to Trevor Sinclair, and her breath stuck in her lungs at his size and his handsomeness.
And she knew that it wasn’t just pride that caused that pang.
Allison McCann stepped forward as if she was facing a firing squad. Her willowy body was tense, her delicate shoulders pulled back and stiff. As she neared him, Trev caught a flicker of something pass through her pale blue eyes. The guys claimed she had no emotions, but he’d seen something.
Fear?
Regret?
Guilt?
Guilt would have made the most sense—if she had a conscience. But if she had no emotions, she certainly had no conscience, either.
Then she stepped closer to him as she passed through the door he’d been holding open for her. And her hair brushed across his throat. The scent of it—like cool rain—filled his senses while the silky touch of it had his skin tingling. He dragged in a deep breath, and she filled his head.
She was so damn beautiful with her eerily pale blue eyes and deep red hair. She had to be at least half-Irish—like he was—with that hair. It was too rich a color to be dyed, richer even than his, which was more brown than red. Like her eyes, her skin was pale, too, and flawless like porcelain. She didn’t even seem real. She looked like one of those dolls people didn’t dare touch.
His mother had had a doll like that, one she’d never taken out of the box because she hadn’t wanted to devalue it. It was the only thing she’d taken with her when she’d left New York City for the brighter lights of Hollywood. That doll had had red hair and porcelain skin just
