He narrowed his eyes at me, his gaze digging under my skin like an archeologist with a trowel. “As I understand it you raised your siblings, adopted an orphan and volunteer at Habit for Humanity in your limited spare time. You practically reek of altruism and scruples.”

“Yet I work with criminals every day.”

“A curious contrast,” he admitted, but he seemed pleased by the idea. “Perhaps I misspoke. I do not need you to be a shining example of virtue. I need you to have conviction and the strength to stand against someone stronger than yourself. Additionally, I do not want to work with someone who will judge my actions. I too am a complicated man with a myriad of…interests.”

Ah, interests.

The ambiguities of criminal speech.

“Such as?”

A sly look. “Details can be discussed upon signing a client/attorney contract.”

“I haven’t agreed to represent you. I am also a criminal attorney, Mr. Morelli. Are you saying you’ve been indicted?”

“As the attorney for numerous criminal factions in the city, I doubt all you do is represent their thugs in court.”

This was true, but I didn’t like that he knew that or that he’d sought me out so resolutely. I’d get Ricardo, who had left Harding, Fields & Griffith to join our new firm as its in-house private investigator, to look into this Tiernan Morelli the first chance he got.

Vaguely, I was aware that my fifteen minutes of peace in my office were up and Adriano would be coming for me.

“Listen,” he murmured in a low, smooth voice that should have been attractive, but instead, was icy with apathy. “Having a Morelli at your fledgling firm will only bolster your reputation. I bring prestige and a considerable amount of funds to the table.”

I stared at him, trying to read his impassive, scarred beauty and failing. Usually, I was a good judge of character, but I couldn’t seem to connect with his frequency.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket, a long, white envelope in his grip. Automatically, I reached for it when he offered it to me, but he wouldn’t relinquish his hold. The cardstock was like velvet against my fingers.

“Come to the annual Morelli Christmas ball,” he suggested. “I think you’ll find I’m better than Saint Nick when it comes to giving presents.”

“I won’t be bought, Mr. Morelli.”

“No, I didn’t think so,” he assured, releasing the envelope abruptly to circle my wrist firmly in his grip. “But you will be swayed.”

“I will sway you to the fucking ground if you don’t take your filthy hands off my wife.”

A thrill zapped like an electric current down my vertebrae at the sound of my capo’s rough, Italianate voice.

My husband had arrived.

Chapter Two

Elena