Chapter 18: Chapter 18

The other end of the line goes utterly silent for a second. Then another. Then a few more, until I’m not sure Alistair is still actually there.

“Alis—”

“Is this a fucking joke?”

There’s a clipped, cold tone in his voice.

“Look, it’ll just be three months⁠—”

“Yeah, I got that part,” he spits venomously. “Hence my question. And the answer had better be fucking yes. After which, we can discuss how good a thing it is you never went into comedy, because you, Taylor, are not fucking funny.”

The line goes quiet again.

“You…uh…” I clear my throat. “Are you done?”

“Oh, I can keep going.”

“Okay, Alistair,” I sigh. “Obviously it’s not ideal⁠—”

“No, Taylor,” he snaps. “No, you going on a fucking three-month vacation to Sicily⁠—”

“Elba.”

“Stop talking for a minute.”

I swear, it’s like he really is the brother I never had sometimes.

“As I was saying,” he mutters. “It is, in fact, the fucking opposite of ideal for you to jet off to Isla de Drazen for three goddamn months right after my fucking brother abdicates his fucking throne to go play house with Fumi in the Governor’s mansion for a term or two. Leaving yours fucking truly as the sole captain of a ship that we’re all painfully aware takes three people to sail.”

“Oh, c’mon, Ally,” I soothe. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Okay, A, I could steer Crown and Black solo in my fucking sleep, and you know it. B, your Jedi mind-trick reverse psychology appeal-to-my-ego bullshit won’t work on me. And C, I’m beginning to wonder if not having you around might actually be a good thing. Because here I thought you were a legal mastermind, and yet there you go using that fucking nickname that you know I fucking hate.”

“Well, since you’re so capable,” I sigh, smirking, “I guess there won’t be any problem⁠—”

“Taylor.”

The fire is gone from his tone this time. Now, he just sounds a little defeated.

“Yes?”

Alistair exhales. “Let’s just say that maybe things are a little easier for me when you and Gabriel are around.”

“Awww, was that so hard?”

He chuckles darkly. “Fuck off. And yes, it was. Look, Taylor, real talk? You disappearing to Italy at all is rough. Doing it now, with Gabriel gone too, is catastrophic.”

“What about Elsa?”

“Elsa’s going to be giving birth in the conference room any fucking minute.”

I grin. “At what point do we force her to take maternity leave?”

He snorts. “Good luck ‘forcing’ Elsa Guin to do fucking anything she doesn’t want to.”

“Hey, at least she works for us and not a competing firm. Or the DA’s office, for that matter.” I sigh. “But also, you’re right. You might need to shore things up while I’m gone.”

“Fumi,” Alistair grunts casually. “I mean, not as a permanent managing partner or anything. But I could use her help while you’re off roleplaying 365 Days with Christian Gray.”

My face burns. “Okay, first of all, you’re mixing up your pop culture references.”

“Sue me. Seriously though, Taylor…” He exhales. “I mean, what the fuck? So Drazen wants your expertise in restructuring his business top to bottom, firewalling himself from risk, streamlining the contracts and paperwork and all that shit…”

It’s the excuse I’ve given why I’ll be spending the next three months away from the firm, my responsibilities, and my life. I admit, it’s bizarre. But it’s a whole hell of a lot better than “I think I married a Bratva kingpin fifteen years ago and now I need to play the part of his wife again so that he can do I-don’t-actually-know-what but I’m sure it’s super important.”

“Why the fuck can’t you do that here in New York?”

Luckily, I’ve prepared for this cross-examination.

“The workload is intense, and a lot of it is going to be in conjunction with his current in-house counsel, not to mention the sensitive nature of the work⁠—”

“And no one seems to care that you’re in no way, shape or form licensed to practice law in Italy?” Alistair grunts.

“Technically, I’ll just be working as a contractor offering my legal expertise.”

“Oh is that how they pronounce ‘loophole’ in Italian?” he mutters. “But c’mon, Tay⁠—”

“It gets us out from under Roger’s thumb, Alistair,” I say quietly. “If nothing else, remember that.”

This is how I’m selling it to Alistair and Gabriel: that Drazen is hiring me as a consultant for a three-month stint of legal work for his organization. In exchange, he’ll pay me for a year’s worth of billable hours at my highest rate. Up front.

Aka, five hundred million dollars.

Aka, the amount Poulter and Lenz owes Roger Fairchild.

“Well, yeah,” Alistair sighs over the phone. “But I still don’t get why the hell he’d want you.”

My brows shoot up. “Okay, ouch? Fuck you, too.”

Alistair chuckles. “That’s not what I meant. I meant, why hire the name partner of a firm, with a frankly insane hourly? I mean, you’re obviously the best of the best, but there’s gotta be cheaper⁠—”

“That’s the appeal,” I shrug. “You know these mafia type guys. It’s all image for them. There are equally good champagnes out there. But you buy Dom for the label and the pedigree.”

Alistair chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what we are, T. Pure pedigree, baby.”

We both laugh. This is kind of an ongoing inside joke for Alistair and me, since my parentage and entire background are kind of a mystery, and he’s adopted. In law school, we used to joke about him being the long-lost third son of Charles and Diana. Or me being the secret offspring of a rock legend, a la Liv Tyler.

“For the money he’s putting up, I think Drazen just wants…”

Me.

“…my full availability whenever and wherever he needs it. Hence staying here at his place in Elba.” I clear my throat. “But to touch on it again, I agree about Fumi. We should’ve bumped her up to equity partner last quarter anyway. Let’s do it now, and part of the deal will be her covering my workload and clients. I mean, the ones you can’t handle,” I smirk.

“Bitch,” Alistair chuckles back.

“So, yeah, the shipping guys should be there tomorrow to start packing up my office. Amelia is going to be around to help⁠—”

“Wait, you’re not even coming back to pack up your own shit?”

“Eh…” I shrug. “Amelia’s there, and Fumi’s going to help out with the document prep. Honestly, I could use some time away, and, I mean, I’m already here.”

“Okay,” he grunts. “I get it. Listen, I gotta jet for a board meeting where I can share the good news about the bailout. Check in anytime, yeah?”

“Will do. Thanks.”

He snickers. “Try not to have too much fun working under the psychotic kingpin.”

My face heats.

Too late.