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“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?—”
