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“ ‘Besmirch his good name’?” I sputter. “What is this, a Jane Austen novel?”

Ezra shrugs. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Typical,” I scoff, snatching the binder from him. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

“Are you offering something else?”

I feel warmth creep up my neck. “No.” I tuck his binder into my briefcase, pushing away from the table to stand. “Honestly, this entire meeting could have been an email. I don’t even see why I needed to come in.”

Ezra stands with me, stuffing his hands in his pockets easily and giving me that slow, lazy smile that flips my stomach. Something that only adds fuel to the fire that is my anger at this entire debacle. “I’m always happy to see you in person, Dani.”

“Well, that makes one of us,” I toss back. “I’ll be in touch with my client’s official decision in regard to your client’s settlement offer. Again, feel free to hold your breath until my call.”

“Have a good day, Dani.” He completely ignores my frosty attitude, acting as if we just had a casual brunch together. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

I bristle at the implication, but say nothing as I turn to leave the room with my things in hand. My steps back toward the front foyer are much heavier than before, irritation evident in my stride. I think I might actually be muttering obscenities under my breath. Why do I let him get under my skin like that? Why is it thateverythingEzra says seems to turn me into the human equivalent of a snapping turtle?

I blame my distracted thought process for not watching where I’m going properly, and when I bump into a large, hard body, I wince, immediately offering up an apology.

“Sorry, I didn’t see—”

I recognize him immediately; he’s had as much press as his brother, after all, but the elder Hart brother, Eli, looks entirely different than Ezra. Harder, somehow. His dark hair is neatly combed, and his piercing blue eyes, which he narrows in my direction as if I’m some sort of bug, give me a much different but no less irritating feeling than those of his brother.

“Ms. Pierce,” Eli says stiffly. “Pardon me.”

“No, it was my fault. I didn’t see you.”

“All right.”

Damn. Usually there is least one more pretend back-and-forth of the blame game before we just settle on it, but okay.

“You met with my brother?”

I feel my spine go a little straighter. “Just left, actually.”

“Mm.” He gives me a once-over, but something about it makes me feel…cold. It’s a stark contrast to the way I feel when Ezra does something similar. Weirdly, at this moment, I might prefer the frustrating warmth of Ezra’s gaze over the unsettling coldness of his brother’s. “Well. I suppose I should offer you good luck on the case.”

I wait for him to actuallyoffersaid good luck, but since all he gives me after that is a tight nod and a brush-off as he moves around me like I’m a traffic cone—I guess that’s as good as it’s going to get. I turn my head to watch him go with a frown; he wasn’t rude exactly, but he wasn’t…notrude either. I puff out a breath as I continue on, putting the interaction behind me.

Damn Harts. Assholes, the whole bunch.

•••

“And the settlementthey offered,” I say heatedly, continuing what’s turned into a twenty-minute rant about the most infuriating man I’ve ever met while my friends and I sit at the bar of our favorite hangout. “It was ridiculous. Actually insulting.”

“I’m assuming Mrs. Casiraghi told them to fuck off?” Vera asks.

I make a face. “Not in so many words, but basically. I told Ezra to expect as much.”

“I think he likes to piss you off,” Nate inserts. “Does it make the sex better or something?”

I groan. “Can we not talk about that?”

“No one asked you to tell me,” Nate says.

Vera frowns. “She didn’t. You overheard us talking.”

“And I was very hurt to have been kept out of the loop,” Natehmphs.