Resisting Mr. Kane: An Age Gap Office Romance (The London Mister Series Book 2)
Resisting Mr. Kane: Chapter 12

Monday morning and I’m ready for another week of contract reviewing and minute-taking. Sophie wheels her chair over to my desk. “I’ve got news for you. I don’t want you to get too excited because you’re there just to shadow, but do you remember the Maria Garcia case we talked about?”

“Of course.” I bob my head in agreement. “It’s gaining more publicity by the day.” I slap a hand over my mouth as realisation dawns. “No way!” I squeak.

“You’re on a part-time loan to the case team, a few meetings here and there, that’s all,” she warns. “But it will be good exposure. You get to watch senior lawyers in action on a delicate case.”

I bounce in my chair. “I can’t wait!”

“Good,” she replies. “Because there’s a meeting in two hours. The retainer has just been signed. Look for the instructions in your emails.”

***

I step out of the lift on the nineteenth floor. Why is the meeting room so close to the senior management floors? Suddenly I have a bad feeling about this.

I smooth down my blue shift dress so it stretches past my knees. When I walk too fast, the hem rides up, showing too much leg. I’ve bought a few of them in different colours in the sales. It screams low-end high street fashion, but it’s passable. I can’t afford to shop where Sophie and Amy shop. Not yet anyway.

Room 111, 112, this is it, 113. Three other people, two men, and a woman, are in the room talking when I nervously peer around the corner. “Is this the meeting for the Garcia case?”

The woman looks me and smiles. “Yes. And you are?”

“Elly Andric.” My eyes dart between them when there’s no recognition. Has there been a mistake?

After a moment, one of the guys snaps his fingers and turns to the others. “The junior shadowing.”

He beckons me to take a seat. “I’m Adi, this is Jacob and Lisa. Welcome, Elly.”

I take a seat opposite Adi and say hello to the team. They acknowledge me politely then return their focus to their laptops. With everyone studying their screens, I’m at a loss as to what to do with my hands, or eyes, for that matter. Do I pretend I have important business on my laptop too?

I focus on my hands. “I’m so excited to be supporting this case,” I say. “Who is the lead lawyer on it?”

“I am,” comes a smooth deep voice behind me, and I whip my head around to meet the stare of Tristan. Looking at me like he’s forgotten anyone else is in the room.

Seriously?

Lisa looks up, startled. “Mr. Kane.”

The same emotions flit across their faces like dominos- apprehension, fear, excitement. A chance to impress the CEO first-hand.

He takes the only available seat beside me. So close, too close.

I stare straight ahead at Adi and try to steady my breathing.

Adi folds his laptop shut, sitting up straight. “What a surprise and an honour. So you are leading this case, sir?”

Please say no.

My heart plummets. It’s too much of a coincidence yet would the CEO of Madison really go out of his way to handpick trainees?

I was nervous walking into this room, I’m so anxious to make a good impression at Madison and not look stupid at one of the world’s most elite companies. Now this added into the mix? I’m going to need a pacemaker to survive this assignment.

Tristan lets out a low chuckle. “Everyone seems shocked by this fact.” He leans back in his chair, the only person relaxed in the room. “It’s an interesting case that’s got the media attention.”

I smell his aftershave, the same aftershave he wore in Greece. It hits my nose, and the memories flood back; we’re in the restaurant, walking on the beach holding hands, in the bed with him between my legs. How many nights have I wanted that man musk as a candle in the bath whilst I’m pleasuring myself Down Under?

“Mr. Kane, have you met everyone?” Adi asks.

Blood rushes in my ears as he looks right at me.

“I have.” Tristan scans the room. “You’ll be my starting team for the case.” He checks his watch. “I have ten minutes. You’ve been granted permission to the case files on the system. There are fifteen charges filed against Maria Garcia. I expect you to be familiar with all of them by Wednesday. Last week, Colombia made an extradition request to the UK. The Secretary of State has already sent the case to the courts so an arrest will likely be issued imminently for Maria. Also on the system are the notes collated regarding Maria’s appeal for asylum, which has been declined.”

He launches into our strategy and approach in such a fast-paced delivery I struggle to keep up. It’s just another day in the office for him; for me it’s the highlight of my short career.

Such a waste. I could learn so much from this experience. His name is one of the most recognised and respected lawyers globally. Getting this opportunity, even just to shadow on one of his cases, isn’t something that comes up often in a lawyer’s career. Even if it is via suspicious circumstances.

Instead, I’m a quivering wreck.

The team leans in on high alert as he discusses the approach they will take and their roles.

One thing I know now for sure. Every person in this company is crushing on Tristan Kane.

Including me.

***

Tristan ordered two cars for four of us to travel to where Maria is staying, just off Kensington. To my relief, I was told to travel with Adi, although annoyingly I felt a pathetic pang of jealousy when he insisted Lisa travel with him.

I use the car journey to scrutinise the case’s contents one last time. Last night, I stayed late in the office to review each detail of all fifteen charges against Maria Garcia.

We pull up outside a four-storey white stucco villa in Holland Park, an affluent part of London filled with embassies and old money. It’s beside the Uzbekistan Embassy and almost the same size. Adi said Maria was living here alone. She must be the richest asylum seeker in the country.

Outside there are three burly security men. We show our passports to gain entry onto the grounds.

As adrenaline surges through my system, I forget about the tall, muscular figure in the perfectly fitted suit leading the way in front of me. Cases like these are the reason I wanted to become a lawyer. A case interesting enough to consume your every thought. I don’t want my thoughts consumed with regulatory body act number 42 and trading act 1977.

We are led by one of the security men up the wide steps and into the hallway, which has high ceilings and walls adorned with paintings and art installations.

“Apparently it used to be an embassy,” Adi whispers. “The entire street is embassies or former embassies.”

Maria is waiting for us in a lavish library, the perfect space for entertaining if she were allowed to have guests other than lawyers. I recognise her immediately, although she’s gaunt now compared to the glitzy media pictures. The story of the handsome hotelier and his young model wife. It was a fairy tale in Colombia for many years until it turned into a horror story.

My heels catch in the frays of the impractically thick carpet, and I trip into the room, cursing.

“Careful,” Adi mutters, narrowing his eyes.

“Maria?” Tristan asks with a professional smile.

She glides forward offering her own dazzling smile and takes his hand, shaking it how I imagine royalty would. To my surprise, she’s just as impeccably dressed as the media presents her. I was expecting someone about to get arrested to be in lounge wear with no make-up.

Her eyes flash with interest, as every woman’s eyes do when they meet Tristan Kane.

I stand behind the others as Maria offers us seats. I know my place, my lack of experience automatically ranks me as the inferior in the room and I should do as I’m told.

Adi beckons to a chair beside him, and I take it.

It’s easy to see why Maria Garcia would capture the interest of one of the richest men in South America. Before she killed him, that is. A natural brunette, her flawless features and icy blue eyes make her look almost doll-like. Her long legs stretch out under the coffee table, and I wonder how she manages to maintain her hair at salon quality while hiding out. She’s exquisite, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the males in the room.

At least I know Tristan can’t sleep with his client. I hope.

Tristan reclines in the leather armchair closest to Maria. He takes up more space in the room than anyone else, and I don’t just mean physically. Taking control of the niceties he introduces the team and our roles. His words are drawn out and low with pregnant pauses, perhaps to relax Maria. He asks pleasantries about the house and the neighbourhood, which he seems to know a lot about.

She anchors her attention on Tristan. She doesn’t look like a woman pleading for help or concerned about impending jail or death. More like a predator who has found her next meal.

If Tristan notices, he doesn’t react. The darling of Colombia’s fashion shows sits across from him, mirroring his body language, smiling and dazzling at the right moments.

Maria signs the consent form and I start recording the meeting.

I listen in awe as Tristan explains the intricate details about her extradition request and what will happen once an arrest warrant is issued. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows showing his muscular forearms, like he’s getting ready for a fight or a fuck, maybe both. I try not to let my gaze drop down to his naked skin.

“How long can I expect to be in prison until the preliminary hearing?” Maria asks. I look around the library which is more luxurious than most hotels I’ve stayed in. Maria seems tough but transitioning from a luxury house in Kensington to prison seems like it would be a shock to the system.

“Two to three weeks,” Tristan confirms. “We will be working on your asylum case in the meantime. Your initial asylum interview will be this week. One of our team will be with you in the meeting.”

My teeth latch on to my bottom lip as I watch Tristan in action. This is why my heart couldn’t handle only a quick fling with him. There’s nothing sexier than a guy who is top of his field. Ironically, I’m not sure if I’m more aroused hearing his low husky voice groaning my name as he climaxes or discussing the intricacies of the asylum-seeking process.

As if feeling my eyes on him, he tilts his head in my direction and gives me an intimate smile. It’s enough for Maria to also turn her attention to me. I smile back politely then look away flustered.

Over the next ninety minutes, I make a conscious effort to focus on his words rather than him. With a slow calm dominance that isn’t forced, he teases what we need out of Maria.

In those ninety minutes, I get a very confusing picture of Maria. The media Maria is different from the real-world Maria. This one is just as charming, but I see flashes of something darker. When she focuses her unnerving, beautiful gaze on me, a chill bolts up my spine. Intense, unblinking eye contact makes me feel like someone has walked over my grave.

By the time we are done I walk out of my first client meeting, hot, flustered and ready to submerge myself in an ice-cold bath.