The Claim (2 page)

Her secretary frowned. “You never look a gift eye-candy horse in the mouth. What’s your deal with him?”

“No deal. I just don’t like anyone who pays their way into a job.”

“Because you didn’t?”

Anna smirked. “Ask Kate. She sees more of Charles’ money than Charles does himself. She’d know if I’d paid a penny to that man for this job.”

“Sorry, Anna—”

“File, please. Time is of the essence and all.”

Her secretary turned out sharpish. Anna sat down and ran the tips of her fingers over her desk, trying to move the trembling out of her system.
Calm down
.

Saying that is not working
.

Try it and it might, you stubborn cow.

Anna breathed out slowly once, opened her eyes and looked at her screen. The first e-mail that flashed up was
Meeting with New Partner.

Anna,

Rocco wants to work with you on a particular project. Very high profile. Lots of mullah. Can we three meet about it later today? Bernie told me you have a free slot at lunchtime.

Best wishes

Charles

She fired one straight back.

No lunch today, Charles. And I’m to capacity at the moment.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Charles said lightly, coming to sit opposite her, tapping at his phone. Goddamn smartphones. They entirely ruined the premise of a decent lie.

“I’ve got too much work on. I’m sure Mr. Mamione has more than enough contacts to get a file turned over. He doesn’t need my help.”

“It’s sensitive.”

“And I should feel a welling in my eyes because?”

Charles visibly struggled with a smile. “When did you get so steely?”

She flicked an eyebrow. “I’m a black woman in the legal profession. Do you think I’d have survived if I was as soft as bread?”

“Oh please don’t start on the virtues of the Equality Act. You did a two-day seminar for all of us, and as much as that was appreciated, my old heart can’t take anymore. Now, you and Rocco.”

Another jolt in the throat at those three words. “Whatever do you mean?”

“He’s brought a wealth of clients with him.”

“All legitimate?”

“Yes. We need a white-collar criminal department and it will run like silk. Those same white-collar criminals will need employment advice. It goes hand-in-hand.”

“Not really. Why are you pushing him on me?”

“Because the only reason he agreed to the partnership was to work with you.”

You know what, Mamione? Game fucking on
. “You really should have spoken to me first then, Charles,” Anna replied, getting to her feet and making her hazelnut latte. “Do you want one?”

“No, thank you. Those things rattle my fillings. Anna, whatever your history with him, I know you are extremely professional. Far too professional to let that get in the way of a fantastic, career-defining case.”

Anna slammed the coffeepot down. “Stop it now. I said no. That’s the end of it.”

“I’m still senior partner.”

“Good for you.” Anna beamed. “You carry on pressing me and I won’t see any other reason not to set up my own firm.”

Charles’ bushy grey brows came together. “You wouldn’t. You hate administration.”

“Try me,” she challenged.

“Lunch. One thirty on the dot. The car will pick you and Rocco up. You can air out your differences on the way to the Ivy.”

Jesus
. “Charles, can you hear what I’m saying, or are you hearing what you want to hear?”

“Hearing what I want to, as always.” With the sprightliness of a man half his age, he leapt to his feet. “See you at one thirty.”

“But—”

“Still your boss,” he reminded her gently, closing the office door behind him.

The churning in her gut intensified. Why were people ultimately so fucking rude and self-satisfied? Anna took one sip of the coffee and the churning became a full washing-machine spin of bile. Fine. The next person to step foot in her office was going to get reamed, no two ways about it.

The meeting with the director of Martins Ltd. was brutal. For the director. Anna had a feeling she’d be getting an e-mail from Human Resources about her client care, but fuck it, if they didn’t act as if their brains had been fermenting in acid for the last decade, she’d be a bit nicer to them. Once he left, the humming started.

“What are you singing?” she demanded of her secretary.

“
Hard Knock Life
.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she mused. “I went past Mr Mamione’s office and there’s a veritable Starbucks going on outside it. I think that’s when I started—”

“I got it.” Anna closed her office door and made her way to Rocco’s office. It was like some boy band had camped in an all-girls’ boarding school. Ridiculous. People, whom she knew had work to do, were all milling around.

“Hey, Annie.” One of the twenty-odd partners smiled at her over a foam-topped mug. “Come to get some muffins? I think there are only a few left.”

“You like working here, don’t you?” Anna said gently.

“Erm...”

“And you know that I personally drew up your partnership agreement, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I don’t—”

“So what makes you think I don’t know every single last loophole that will get you out of here with barely the silver-framed photo of your family in a cardboard box, if you
ever
call me Annie again?”

“Sorry. Anna. It’s just—”

“What?”

“I called you Annie,” a deep voice interrupted, which sent a ripple of awareness over her. It had been six years since she’d heard his voice, and he didn’t look a single wrinkle different from when she’d met him at law school. Sucked that he hadn’t shrunk at all and that he still towered over her, four-inch heels be damned.

“You are determined to die at my hands, aren’t you?” she said with the smallest of smiles.

Rocco dipped his immaculate head and waved a hand into his office. She opened her mouth to refuse and saw the partner, still trembling from her earlier threat, watching them carefully. Anna knew office politics well enough to not give any more fuel to that fire and walked in.

Rocco closed the door gently and placed his hands in his well-cut trouser pockets. “Weren’t you going to say hello to me?”

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. What are you doing here?”

That beautifully moulded mouth of his tilted upwards. “I do hope you don’t talk to your clients like that.”

“Answer the question.”

“I have a situation which calls for the best employment solicitor in London. That would be you.”

She snorted. “I could have saved you the trouble.”

“I like trouble,” he said quietly, dark eyes sliding over her frame, from her head to the very tip of her toes. “You look good, Annie.”

“You look like Bugsy Malone. What is this? You were fine in your grotty corner dealing with grotty, bonus-fattened bankers in the city.”

“And as much fun as legal and financial liposuction was, I have a situation. Family.”

Oh, the cursed word. What wasn’t more important than family in his world? “So I have to deal with my valid dislike for your general being for your family.”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I
fucking
mind.”

Rocco gave a soft sigh. “I know you do. Which is what makes you perfect. You’ll do the best job to prove that it’s all business and no pleasure.”

“I don’t trust you,” she seethed. “If I can’t trust you outside of the office, what the hell makes you think I’ll do it on the back of my practising certificate?”

“Because you’re the best,” he said simply. To have that accolade from someone like him, on the face of things, would have been whisky-warming pleasure. But still. It was coming from the snake from the Garden of Eden. All flattery and guaranteed hell on earth.

With a tug on the frayed edges of her temper, Anna said, “You can go for anyone, a silk if you wanted.”

“I want you.”

All right, gloves off.
“You’re doing this because having a female not fawning over you to take her over every available surface grates on your personage.”

He blinked and the pause, Anna knew, was to enjoy the shock value of whatever retort he was cooking up. “Annie, I’ve had you over every available surface. Snow is still my favourite. Honestly, though, I do need your help.”

“Spin on it,” she flashed, turning on her heel and throwing open the door. One of them was leaving this firm, and it was not going to be her.

Chapter Two

Rocco released a pent-up breath. Well, that could have been worse. He was still intact and not in a body bag at the very least. Christ, that woman was pure fire, and to be fair, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. He absolutely detested being at a disadvantage personally, but it had to be done all above board. He’d promised.

Elisabetta “Nonna” Mamione was properly pissed off, and with good reason. You did not spend thirty-odd years building a business off the back of your family recipes only to be unceremoniously tossed aside by a new owner.  “I want to sue the fucker,” Nonna had said.

“Nonna!” his mother had cried. “Please not in front of Rocky.”

“He’s thirty-three years old—he’s said the word before!” Nonna cut her dark eyes to Rocco, who was trying not to laugh at the way his grandmother bandied about profanities. “I’m not joking. I want to sue him. I know my rights.”

“You want to sue Enzo Vitale?”

“Why not?”

“You don’t want to consider, perhaps, alternative options rather than the tribunals?”

His grandmother pointed a curved finger to his head. “Just because your father was stupid enough to get his arse thrown in prison, doesn’t mean he got that from my genes.”

“Nonna.”

“No. Do it properly. Sue him. Please. I’ve got money to pay you for your restrainer.”

“Retainer, Nonna.”

The older woman shrugged. “Same thing. Get me someone good. Someone who’ll mess that little prick up, good and proper.”

“My grandmother, Ronnie Biggs,” he murmured. “Let me talk to Nick.”

“Nicky is a good boy. If I asked him to do something for me on the right lines, he’d do it. Aren’t you a good boy?”

“Nonna.”

“Then it’s settled. I need to go shopping. I want to look like that Margulies woman from
The Good Wife
when we go to court.”

As soon as his grandmother left the room, his mother made the sign of the cross. “You see what I’ve had to put up with? I left your father for a reason. Him being mad was one part and his mother was the other two-thirds. I know you love her, but I can’t bear this. Just do what she wants.”

“I can’t just serve papers on Enzo Vitale. I’m supposed to keep the law out, not drag it in.”

“Then talk to Nicky, or let me call his father.”

Jesus
. “Mama, look. There are ways of doing things, and trust me, this isn’t right.”

“Ask. Please. For the sake of the little sanity I’ve got left.”

With a sigh of the weary, he’d picked up his mobile and made a call.

“Sue him,” Nick said shortly.