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To my surprise, I got more than just the slow blink I anticipated. Easton lowered his voice to share, “A death.”

My eyes widened at both his answer and the fact he’d even given one. Possibilities raced through my head, everything from an accidental death to a dead escort in the Chateau Marmont—the infamous hotel of old school Hollywood scandals. I hadn’t heard about any suspicious deaths, but enough influence and money could keep anything quiet.

At least temporarily.

“Really?” I asked, keeping my voice even.

“Yes. His previous lawyer died.” I didn’t have the chance to get ahead of myself when he clarified, “Natural causes.”

That’s anticlimactic.

Sad, too, of course.

But anticlimactic.

Since there was no scandalous story to be had, I got back to the one I’d been assigned. “What made you go into law?”

“Mr. Teagen, my high school principal. I grew up in a shit neighborhood. My parents did the best they could.” He tapped the side of his slightly crooked nose. “But I was a pain in the ass who had a bad habit of trying to fight my way through life before arguing my way out of consequences. Mr. Teagen suggested I put that persuasiveness to better use, and I never looked back.”

“Your parents must be proud.”

“They both passed while I was in college.”

The fact that I’d inadvertently implied he was a nepo baby earlier was mortifying. I swallowed my embarrassment down. “I’m sorry.”

He waved off the apology. “Mom went first from breast cancer, and Dad passed a few months after. He never recovered from losing her. But they were both proud, albeit shocked, that I got into college in the first place.” I wanted to ask more about his childhood, but before I could, he turned the tables on me. “What made you go into journalism?”

I hesitated.

“You don’t have to answer. You can plead the fifth.”

“I’m just not used to my interviewees becoming interviewers.”

“I told you, I’m thorough. I like to know my opposition.”

“Are we opponents?”

“You tell me,Madeline.”

“Hey. I said you could call me Maddie.” I lowered my voice to mutter, “Even if you are a tyrant.”

At his smile, another surge of warmth went through me.

I was tempted to give him the usual answer I gave people when they asked. The one that made me sound intelligent, informed, and tenacious. But since he’d been forthcoming with me, I returned the favor. “I’m nosy.”

That didn’t just get a smile. It got a chuckle. A really,reallygood one. “Fair enough.”

The humor died instantly when I proved my nosiness by blurting, “How old are you?”

Blank expression in place, he leaned back in his chair, but his gaze was sharp as he met mine. “Thirty-seven.”

That was around where I’d initially placed him, though his accomplishments had made me wonder if he was actually older.

Picking up his nonverbal cues, I moved on. “Why did you choose Coastal?”

“They offered a full scholarship.” He paused. “Feel free to change that answer to something more ass-kissy.”

It was my turn to laugh. “On it.”