But then the woman calls him to her side with a snap of her fingers. “Come lie down.”
The dog immediately turns and pads back to her side, a testament to how well trained he is. I bet she could have easily said attack, and I’d be history.
The dog doesn’t lie down and instead sits beside her chair so that he remains visible.
I think the fucking dog is sending a clear message that he’s watching me.
The woman leans to the right, locking eyes with the receptionist. “It’s okay, Bonita. You can close the door behind you.”
“Would you like me to bring in a coffee or tea service?” Bonita asks politely. I keep my eyes on the dog.
“No, that won’t be necessary. We only offer that to our polite guests.”
My gaze slides to her, my irritation growing deeper at this predicament I’m in. I thought I was going to be able to walk in, bully her into backing down, and walk out in peace. Instead, the attorney I’m looking for isn’t even sitting behind the desk, and I came pretty close to having my throat ripped out by her dog.
“I’m looking for Harlow Alston. Can you tell me where she is so I can have a few moments of her time to discuss the fact that I don’t want shit to do with my brother’s estate?”
The redhead leans forward in her chair, clasps her hands on her desk. “You did see the sign outside the door that said Harlow Alston, did you not?”
I roll my eyes. “Of course, I did. I also googled the woman, and she’s about thirty years older than you with gray hair.”
The woman nods in understanding and stands from her chair. “That would be my aunt, Hayley Alston. Her firm is across the river, downtown. I’m Harlow, and I’m the attorney who contacted you.”
This throws me off. I came in hell-bent on putting this woman in her place, but in my mind, I’d envisioned me going to battle with that older female attorney who looks like she eats nails for breakfast.
I’m not prepared for this stunning woman who doesn’t look like she could be more than her late twenties and more suited to a fashion runway than behind a desk practicing law.
Also, she’s not dressed like I imagined a lawyer would be. She’s wearing jeans and a colorful sweater, and her hair is up in a ponytail. She most definitely doesn’t look like the bulldog litigator I’d been expecting.
She’d be exactly the type of woman I’d hit on in a bar, and if I was lucky, would go home with at night.
She holds out her hand across the desk. “I’m glad to meet you finally, Mr. Dumelin. May I call you Stone?”
I refuse to shake her hand or give her permission to use my first name. But I move closer to her desk so that my imposing height speaks to her. “I’m not staying. I’m merely here to tell you that whatever I need to do to get you to leave me alone, just tell me. If I have to sign a release, I’ll sign it. I don’t want anything to do with my brother’s estate. Most certainly don’t want you contacting me again.”
Harlow seems neither offended nor angry by my proclamation. If anything, she looks sorrowful. But that makes no sense, so I disregard it.
“I wish I could do that, Stone. But I made a promise to your brother—”
“You mean, you took money from my brother to carry out his legal wishes,” I snap.
She takes a breath and lets it out slowly to maintain her composure. “There are certain things we must do for his estate—”
“Which I’m not interested in,” I growl. “And you’re not hearing me.”
“I’m hearing you loud and clear.” Her tone is tight, eyes flashing like dark emeralds with fire behind them. “But you’re clearly determined to be a jerk about this. Your brother went out of his way—”
“My brother never did anything out of his way for me,” I roar at her, stepping backward and stumbling over one of her guest chairs. It enrages me further, and I swipe at it, sending it tumbling end over end. I faintly hear something crack—maybe one of the legs—but I’m beyond giving two fucks.
The dog beside the attorney utters a low growl but doesn’t move. I expect my outburst to have her attention riveted on me, but she’s instead looking at the chair lying on its side.
I glance at it, note it looks delicate with spindled legs, brocade covering the seat, and intricate, inlaid carvings on the back. Not my taste at all, and the leg is clearly broken at the base where it attaches.
Not an ounce of shame for that.
“Do not contact me again,” I warn ominously. Her eyes slide my way, wary and passive. “Email me whatever I need to sign to release you from whatever obligation you feel you need to soothe your conscience for the work my brother hired you to do. I’ll get it back to you immediately. Contact me again, and I’ll report you to whatever agency governs people like you.”
Gone is the wariness, and her eyes blaze again with anger, but she watches me mutely. I stare at her resolutely, conveying the silent message I’m not to be fucked with. When I think she understands, I pivot sharply and head for the door.
Past the broken chair.
I glance down at it but not at her. “Send me a bill for that, and I’ll gladly pay it.”
I don’t look back as I storm out of her office and hopefully toward a life that is now free from my ghosts and demons.
CHAPTER 5
Harlow
My heart thumps hard after Stone Dumelin leaves my office, slamming the door behind him. And despite that very unpleasant experience, I honestly had not expected any different. Over the course of my friendship with Brooks, I had come to know Stone, and I’d been steeling myself for this confrontation.
It’s why Brooks hated to ask me to be the one to make sure this all gets settled. It’s why he hated to name me trustee, but he knew I’d fight tooth and nail to see that his wishes were carried out. More than just Stone being a thorn in my side regarding the estate, I was contacted by his father yesterday asking about “his share” of things.
I don’t know if Stone told his father to contact me, but I doubt it. I know they weren’t on the greatest terms when Brooks died. I could see that firsthand at the memorial service where Stone would try to comfort his mother, but she’d pull away. I saw it when his own father ignored him, and it was clear by his words at the service that he felt he only had one son worthy of mention.
This behavior was also not a surprise. In fact, Brooks had told me once that his family was so fractured, nothing would ever put it back together.
I believe him now.
There’s no sense in calling his father back yet. I have to advise Stone about Brooks’s will and trust, which is the first order of business. Once I do that, I will call his father and tell him what he’s entitled to, but I’ll put it off for now.
I move around my desk and squat to the broken chair. The leg is completely snapped off, and I want to grind my teeth with how blasé Stone was about breaking it.
Send me a bill, he’d said.
As if anything could replace the broken leg on this eighteenth-century Hepplewhite that is part of a matching set. It’s not only worth a small fortune, but more importantly, it was my great-grandmother’s, lovingly passed down to the eldest daughter in each generation. My mother gifted me with them two years ago when I opened my law firm, believing I’d enjoy them far more than she would.