She's a headstrong lawyer who has had groundbreaking success in her field despite her young age.
They are three dominant brothers who need a lawyer for their multi-million pound business.
What could go wrong?
NOTE: THIS IS A REVERSE HAREM NOVEL
Bo...
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I need to get her off my mind.
I don't know what's wrong with me.
All I know is I couldn't be in that office with my brothers any more.
As I walk into the bar, the stench of old booze burns at my nostrils. I look around the run-down place to see it basically empty, apart from a few lone old men drinking beers.
I nod to the barman who instantly serves me a pint before disappearing into the back, leaving me to take a seat at the bar.
I take a drink from my glass, feeling the cold alcohol soothe me as soon as it touches my lips.
"Callum," a hand claps me on the back, making me groan internally.
Not him.
When I don't turn around to greet him, I would've expected him to get the message. Instead, he pulls up a barstool to sit next to me. I can smell the beer oozing out of his pores.
"What do you want, Liam?" I growl.
"Hey, I'm just sitting here," he holds his hands up in mock-defence, his smile wonky on his face. I don't answer him, instead rolling my eyes and taking another sip from my beer.
He stays silent for a few seconds.
"I heard Carlie left with you and your brothers today," he prys, gossiping like a child.
"Mhm," I fight the urge to punch him.
"Bit unprofessional of her, isn't it?" he asks rhetorically, taking a drink.
"No," I answer, my voice laced with warning.
"She always was one to put guys before her work. Should have seen her when we started dating. Now she can't seem to stay away from me," he begins to ramble. I clench my hands into fists, fighting the red mist emerging in front of my eyes.
"She just can't seem to keep her legs crossed, that one," he scoffs to himself.
Right, that's it.
I pull out my phone and dial Elijah's number, who picks up on the second ring.
"An féidir liom punch dó?" I ask him in Gaelige so Liam won't suspect anything. ("Can I punch him?")
Thank fuck for being half-Irish.
"Liam?" Elijah asks, amusement in his tone.
"Sea," I answer. ("Yes")
"Sure," Elijah gives me verbal confirmation. I hang up, feeling the rage boil through my blood as I stand from my bar stool.
"What language was tha-" I silence his question by landing my fist on his nose, feeling it crunch against my hand at the force. He falls off the barstool, landing on the wooden floor with a thud. His hands instantly go to cover his bleeding nose as he wails.
