Shopping for an Heir (Page 49)

Maybe just a grudge.

Because Kulli had hit on her more than once out in the desert.

Luckily, the guy took no—twice—for an answer.

Barely.

“Gerald isn’t with you?”

“I can’t speak about my client. Confidentiality.”

“Listen to you. Such a lawyer. I never pegged you for a shark.”

She studied him, not giving in. The less said, the better.

“You look the same, Harrison.” That was designed to be a blow. The guy had clearly bulked up, arms bursting out of an expensive Armani suit. He looked nothing like the rat he’d been years ago.

“The last decade’s been good to me,” he countered, making sure to flash his Rolex.

Were watches the new in-person dick pic?

Steve Raleigh. That’s who he reminded her of.

Harrison Kulli was a slimier version of Steve Raleigh.

Nothing about Kulli’s demeanor made her afraid. They were in the exhibition room with two armed guards at the entrance, dressed in plain clothes. Given the amount of objects of high value, and the rotation of estate lawyers and appraisers, heirs and household staff, she knew Kulli wouldn’t do anything to put her in harm’s way.

His very presence, though, and that question about Gerald gave her pause.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m here to meet with a representative from the Museum of Fine Arts,” she declared, making it clear this conversation was over.

“You’re looking at him.”

“You’re Randita Mugheeri?” Her glare held nothing back.

“Actually, I am. Your phone number was easy to find, if you know where to look.”

Adrenaline shot through her. She conspicuously looked at the guards. Both were the same men she’d recognized from the other day. She pulled out her phone and dialed 9-1-1 without pressing Send.

Always be prepared.

“You two back together again?” he asked, the casual tone jarring.

“What?”

“You and Gerald. You two back together?”

“Mr. Wright is my client,” she said frostily, starting to walk toward the door to leave. This was a set-up.

“‘Mr. Wright’? Aren’t you getting fancy, Suzanne. Most people don’t refer to their ex-fiancé like that. Then again, after what he did to you…”

All those years ago, she’d been tight-lipped. Had not said a word to anyone about how Gerald had broken up with her. Only Kari and her parents had known.

A cold flush covered her body, heart hot inside her chest.

She didn’t respond. Bait. He was baiting her.

“I can understand it, though.”

She held her breath.

“You do know why he broke it off with you, right?” His voice was like poison ivy coated in velvet.

“Mr. Wright is my client in the capacity of—”

“He never told you, did he?” Kulli inhaled slowly, the sound passing over his back teeth like a snake’s hiss.

Say nothing, she screamed inside. He’s playing a dangerous psych game.

“He stole the relic. Stole it, and brought it home when his mother was sick. Came back and was with you for just a few more months before he was discharged. Gerald was never the same. You know I counseled him?”

Suzanne fought back the snort of disbelief that rose up in her.

“He held on. The curse got to him, though.”

“Curse?” She infused as much condescension as possible into one word.

“Yeah, curse. That damned relic may be one of the oldest objects with writing on it ever found, Suz.”

Don’t call me Suz, she thought.

“He was never the same after he brought it back. And then the nightmares about you started.”

“What are you talking ab—” Damn it. He’d succeeded.

He knew it, too.

“Got your attention, didn’t it? Convince him to sell to my client and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

“I can’t ethically do that and you know it.”

“You can’t ethically handle a nearly-priceless relic that doesn’t exist, Suz. Don’t take the moral high ground here.”

“We’re done, Kulli. I won’t advise my client to take action he doesn’t want to take.”

“He’d be stupid to give it all up. Just like when he gave you up. That’s what Wright does, though. He cuts and runs. Once he donates that relic, he’ll disappear again.”

Her throat seized.

Kulli knew he’d hit a nerve. “Didn’t think about that, did you? If he has a big pot of money following him around, he can’t run off. But if he donates, he leaves. Just like he left you ten years ago.”

“Shut up.”

“Not so much power now, huh, Suzanne? You always were easy to break. Wright, too. It’s not too late, though. My client wants that relic. Wants it bad. He’ll go to $60 million.”

“I’ll advise Mr. Wright.”

“Why are you so loyal to him?”

“He is my client,” she persisted.

“After what he wanted to do to you?”

Years of law school and legal work had attuned her to the subtleties of language.

“Wanted to do to me?”

Kulli’s eyes went hooded, mouth curling in contempt. “I was his CO. He spilled his guts one night. I know why he needed to leave. And why he broke it off with you.”

“I know that, too. PTSD. It happens to the best of men and women who serve in combat.”

“Worst, too,” Kulli said sourly.

“You don’t need to illuminate me, Harrison. Whatever you think you’re accomplishing with this conversation, you’re not—”