“Your chocolate is better than a 2016 Napa Valley cabernet?”
“It’s better than sex,” I state proudly.
A slow, wide smile builds on his face as he sits back and nods. “I’ll have to come by your shop someday.”
“It’s not a storefront. I lease a kitchen in Chinatown, where I make my products. Right now, I mostly work with corporate clients in the Philadelphia area but also get orders for special events. If things go well, hopefully, I’ll be able to get a loan from the bank to open a real shop and be more competitive with prices on my website, so I can produce more and ship nationally.”
“Which is why you need help with your landlord.”
I’ve been chatting away so much that I nearly forgot why Sebastian and I were having this meeting. “Right! Here is a copy of my lease.”
He takes the folder I offered him and opens it, looking through it quickly. “Has your landlord given you an eviction notice?”
“No.”
“A certified letter stating that you are late on rent and that he plans on filing an eviction notice?”
“Not that I know of. Yesterday was the first time he mentioned any of this.”
“Is anyone living in the apartment?”
“Nope. The landlord is keeping the first and last month’s rent that we gave as a deposit to cover the back rent. He’s asking for forty-five hundred in damages.”
He whistles through his teeth. “What the hell kind of damage costs that much?”
“Apparently, the sink is off the wall, the floor is ruined, the place smells like a house of sacrificial offering, and there’s a hole in the wall behind the bed. Not one of those things was done by me. I left that place looking pristine.”
“Damn, what kind of animal is your ex?”
“I’m assuming one who had some wild times with his new girlfriend.” I shiver at the thought of them together in that way.
Sebastian closes the file and leans forward. “I’m sorry. This must be uncomfortable for you. Breakups suck.”
I wave him off. “Actually, this one wasn’t so bad, I guess. I mean, I loved Hardin—that’s his name, by the way—but when he cheated, it was like these rose-colored glasses fell off my face, and I saw him for what he really was … this lowlife of a guy who used me,” I say almost to myself. Then, I slap my hand over my face and shake it in embarrassment. “Wow. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I just can’t stop oversharing with you.”
He smiles. “That’s good. It helps me understand the situation, so I can help you.”
“If you want to help, you can get the landlord to waive the damages and get my dog back from Hardin.”
“Lady Featherington,” he states. “Did you adopt or purchase her?”
“Hardin bought her from a breeder.” I take a sip of my coffee, hoping it will stop me from babbling more.
“That makes it difficult. Was she a gift?”
I nod while I swallow. “For my birthday.”
“That makes it easier.” His comfort with this conversation makes me smile.
“Thank you for helping me, but full disclosure: I don’t have a lot of money to pay you.”
“I already knew that. Being that you don’t have cash lying around to pay your ex-landlord, you painted the picture that money is tight for you. I charge seven hundred dollars an hour.”
I nearly spit out my drink. “Seven! You said seven, didn’t you?”
He laughs. “I’m not charging you though. I want to help.”
This is the moment where the seemingly perfect scenario starts to get morphed in my brain to something more sinister. If this high-profile attorney doesn’t want my money, then what the hell does he want?
“I’m not paying you in sexual favors,” I state firmly, making sure he knows this is an absolute no-go for me.
His mouth opens and closes in surprise as he blinks rapidly and raises his hands. “I was not expecting that at all. Let me explain. At the risk of sounding pompous or cocky, if you will, I am very successful.”
“The seven hundred bucks an hour kind of gave that away. As did the Rolex and the Ferragamo shoes.”
“What I mean is, I believe in Karma. For every large verdict I win, I pay it forward by helping someone else pro bono.”
“I’m the pro bono?”
“Unless you want to pay.” He grins, raising his eyebrows as he brings his mug up to his lips. His very sexy, very luscious lips.
“No. I’m just not used to handouts. I’m actually horrible with receiving them. You’re talking to the girl who worked two jobs, so she could save enough money to launch a business on her own. I have no personal debt, and I own one hundred percent of my business.”
“Do you not like owing favors?”
“I don’t like taking from others.”
He sits back again and lifts his coffee off the table, drinking it in long sips. “Yet you’re here.” He grins, and I purse my lips in response. “You knew who I was when I walked in here today,” he says as he crosses his leg, resting his foot on his knee. “You looked me up.”
I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t going to ask a stranger for help unless I knew who he was.”
“You must have been impressed enough.”
“I was moderately taken aback by how accomplished you are.”
“You need me.”
It totally sucks that he’s right. I can’t explain why, but I have a feeling Sebastian will be able to get me out of my situation quickly. Plus, not being charged is a huge bonus.
“Tell me about yourself,” I ask, not quite ready to answer him.
He raises a brow. “What would you like to know?”
“Name three things about you that are more important than what’s on your résumé.”
His eyes light up, showing he’s intrigued. “I’m an only child. My father is an orthopedic surgeon, and my mother is an English professor at Yale. When I was in elementary school, I had one buck tooth that was sideways. My friends used to give me tin cans to open with my teeth. God bless the orthodontist who gave me braces. I’m a black belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu, and I’ve run four marathons, all for charity. My favorite book is George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four, I’m a huge Coldplay fan, and Lake Como, Italy, is the most beautiful place I’ve ever traveled to.”
“That’s more than three.”
“There’s a hell of a lot of things more important about me than what it says on my résumé. I’m an attorney and a good one. I’m also a man who happens to like doing the right thing.”
“Why make me the offer? The way we met was wildly unconventional. I could have been an insane person.”
“You still could be,” he jokes. “Just so happens, I won a seventy-million-dollar verdict yesterday, right before you called, so it very much feels like fate.”
“Fate. Right,” I say rather sarcastically. I don’t particularly believe in fate.
“Plus, I was curious to meet the woman behind the text messages.”
“And?”
“You’ve surprised me immensely. Though I have a confession to make. I also wanted to see if you were half as pretty as you were entertaining on the phone.”