Accidentally in Love, page 4
“You, my dear Ms Di Giovanni, obviously don’t read the gossip columns very much, I take it,” the judge said with a bitter laugh.
Sara shrugged. “It’s not one of my hobbies. As you already know, I am more interested in patents…”
“Have you ever heard of Ethan Phelps?”
“The name rings a bell, but I can’t link it to a specific face or anything in particular.”
“Lucky you…” muttered Richter. “Well, since I can’t get Ethan Phelps out of my mind for more than two days at a time, I’ll explain briefly. And there’s no point sugar coating it: Ethan is out of his mind. He’s in and out of rehab so often that it’s practically his second home, he blows enormous amounts of money on nonsense and he spends his whole life doing absolutely nothing. Which in itself wouldn’t be a problem, if it were not for that goddamn fifteen per cent that he has managed to acquire.”
“And without his share the family only controls forty-five percent, so they no longer have a controlling share…” Sara concluded for her.
“Exactly. Six months ago, there was an incredible meeting of the shareholders that was a complete catastrophe, though I suppose we’re just lucky it didn’t end up being an actual tragedy. Ethan turned up totally blitzed, wearing not much more than his swimming costume. He even saw fit to throw up on several of those present,” sighed the judge, squirming in embarrassment at the thought of it.
A light bulb suddenly went on in Sara’s head. “That Ethan Phelps!” she exclaimed, suddenly remembering the episode clearly.
“Unfortunately, yes – that Ethan Phelps… After that debacle and the consequent fall in their share value on the stock exchange, Kirk and James Phelps decided to take the bull by the horns and reached out to me for help. As far as I could see, the only way to go forward was to get in a court appointed guardian to handle Ethan Phelps’ share. In other words, stop him from deciding for himself, as he really didn’t seem capable of managing his share of the company. Needless to say, all the psychologists that the family got in were in full agreement.”
“That makes sense,” agreed Sara, but she was beginning to feel a strange sense of uneasiness. She had a bad feeling about all of this.
“In the beginning, the family chose to use the law firm which is considered to be the best when it comes to asset management. Well, the most famous attorney they had lasted two months, after which he handed in his resignation and headed for the hills as fast as his legs would carry him. So then we got in the second best specialized law firm in the city, but we did not have any luck with them either. The third lawyer was a family friend, and the hope was that there being a relationship already meant he’d be able to handle things with the necessary sensitivity – but not with Ethan Phelps about. Friendship is completely meaningless when he’s around. And so the third guardian quit last Friday, after less than a month on the job. Counsel, we need a court appointed guardian with a serious pair of balls. And I apologize for my rather inelegant, but accurate, way of putting it.”
Sara crossed her legs nervously. “You’re not thinking of asking me, are you?” she said, with obvious panic in her voice. “Because I’d better remind you that I handle patents.”
“Listen, right now I couldn’t care less about the form – all I’m interested in is the substance. As I said to my assistant, you could specialize in ice cream law for all I care, the important thing is that you can handle Ethan Phelps.”
Sara looked at Judge Richter’s face for a long time, undecided as to whether she should consider this all a joke. Her, a court appointed guardian?
“Look, thank you for thinking of me, really, but I just don’t feel like I’m up to doing a job like that. I mean, if all these people, who were so much more capable than me, have already failed, I just don’t see how I could…”
She was cut off, however, by a gesture of Richter’s hand. “Ms Di Giovanni, I warn you, please don’t make me beg. I have a good feeling about this, you must believe me. For some strange reason I think you can actually do this. You are young, smart, determined. I think you could anticipate Mr Phelps’s moves to perfection and manage that damned controlling share of his in the interests of your ward.”
“But I deal with patents! ” Sara repeated in exasperation as though it were a mantra.
“Oh pshaw – details…” murmured the judge .
“I’m sorry, but my office would never agree to me accepting such a case,” she said, desperately seeking a way to get herself off the hook.
Unfortunately, Jane Richter smiled happily.
“Maybe you didn’t know that Mr Ross and I are great friends! We were at Harvard together! Max is still running the show in there, right?” she asked, knowing full well that she had won.
“Yes, he’s still the senior partner in the firm…” said Sara with a sigh.
“Excellent! Well, I called him last night, and guess what, not only has your boss nothing against you dealing with this little problem for me, but he is also willing to give you a nice pay rise and the assistance of a colleague of your choosing!”
Sara swallowed her disappointment. “Wonderful…”
“I knew that you would come round,” concluded Richter triumphantly.
She had tried being nice, she really had. But exceptional problems require exceptional measures and without the weapon of blackmail, Sara Di Giovanni would never have accepted the assignment. She was smart, there was no doubt about that, and she had a good instinct for survival. Well, she would need it. It really was a massive stroke of luck that Max Ross was the head of the law firm where she worked .
Sara closed her eyes for a few seconds and leaned back in her chair in order to digest the news. She reopened them shortly afterwards, and with lucid rationality asked, “What is actually wrong with Ethan Phelps?” At this point she wanted to hear the whole truth.
But before the judge could think of an answer, the door of the office swung open and three men entered the room. Sara turned in their direction and her mouth literally fell open. The lunatic she had encountered on Saturday night had just walked into the judge’s office and she was ready to bet everything she owned that he was Ethan Phelps.
For sure.
Because when it came to bad luck, Sara Di Giovanni was second to none.
*
Yawning as he went and moving with deliberate slowness, Ethan proceeded towards them until he got to Judge Richter’s desk. He gave the judge a polite smile and then slumped into the chair next to the smartly dressed dark haired woman who looked as though she had been there for a while. Definitely a lawyer. Not only did she look like one, she even smelt like one .
In his modest opinion, lawyers gave off a special kind of smell – a kind of primordial warning that served as a form of warning to other human beings: danger, keep a wide berth. And in recent months, he’d had a lot of experience with lawyers. All stuff he had learned on the ground. At this point, he could practically have written a book on the subject: ‘How to Recognize a Goddamn Lawyer and How to Scare Him Off As Fast As His Legs Will Carry Him – An Intensive Course for Smart Young People.’
Yes, he was really rather good at that. And he could not understand why his family did not want to compliment him on it. After all, it was a genuine art. All he had to do was find their weak point and then work away at it until they sank. Or, in his case, until they decided to resign.
After having spent more than thirty years of his life with the conviction that he had absolutely no talent for anything, he had been surprised at his unexpected gift. He had made three of the best attorneys around – people who were accustomed to everything and to everyone – run a mile, babbling like children. True, he hadn’t really played fair, but then neither had they. In a sense, he had just responded to their provocation. At the bottom of his heart, Ethan knew he was a ‘pacifist’. A democratic extremist born into a family of devout republicans, he considered himself to be on the side of the good .
He watched his brother James, who was busy thanking Judge Richter. He did practically everything except kiss her hand, the clown. His uncle, however, was as stiff as a post, sitting between him and the young lawyer and probably fearing that his ‘beloved’ nephew would try to escape.
What nonsense. Now it was clear to him that the best way to annoy them was not to disappear but to make it impossible for them to ever forget about him. Having him around all the time was driving them all out of their minds. Them and that bunch of lawyers they continued to hire.
Ethan turned his head to his left to scrutinize the young woman who sat motionless in her seat, working hard at not looking at him. A young woman with a regular though somewhat commonplace profile: a straight nose, fleshy mouth, dark hair gathered in a low pony tail that finished who knew where down her back. The backrest of the chair prevented him from seeing the length of her hair. It was impossible that she hadn’t noticed him looking her over, even though her eyes remained stubbornly fixed upon Richter.
It took Ethan about three seconds to work out that the judge had decided to appoint her as the new guardian. The woman looked for all the world like some beleaguered politician who had been arrested by the FBI. Poor thing …
Of course, there was a subtle genius in Richter’s change of type: a woman, young to boot, who would take the place of the usual attorneys who had not been able to control his behavior.
She was wearing a black department store suit of average cost and quality that was so boring it was almost offensive. The color of her hair looked natural, though, and in New York that was something so rare that he almost shouted in surprise.
Ethan knew that she was probably going to be their last attempt. If he could crush her as well, they would certainly have to let him live his life in the way he wanted to.
And crushing her would be child’s play.
She had a look of normality about her. Harmlessness. Ethan was almost afraid that the confrontation would turn into unarmed warfare. Unlike the rest of his family, he didn’t like fighting people who were weaker than him – he had first-hand experience of what being the weaker party actually meant. He would have to force himself, however, because his freedom was just one more step away, he could feel it.
He relaxed and almost smiled when Richter pulled out the umpteenth document nominating the new court appointed guardian. The fourth in five months. A new world record. He should write to Guinness and ask to be included in the next edition, just to remind everyone that he, too, was capable of achieving something. It might not be the world’s best known discipline, but that was no reason for it to be overlooked…
“Well, Mr Phelps, I’m glad you honored us with your presence this morning in order to allow us to proceed with the appointment of your new court appointed guardian,” said the judge. “Speaking of whom, let me introduce you to Ms Sara Di Giovanni. She will be taking care of you.”
“Well, actually I was dragged here by my brother, Judge Richter. It seems that my family just can’t stop itself from being at your beck and call,” he replied sarcastically, before concluding, with a wink, “I’ve come straight from a club.” Then he leant towards Sara, offering her his hand. He was in a particularly good mood. “Pleased to meet you. And don’t forget to take very good care of me…” he said, making no attempt to veil his insinuations.
Sara, who had up until then tried to keep calm, felt like she was going to blow her top like Krakatoa. She looked into Ethan Phelps’s face for a long time before she finally reached out to accept his hand. They shook, both with firm, iron-like grips. “I have every intention of doing so, believe me,” she whispered threateningly.
Ethan tended to forget the faces of the people he met during his big nights out pretty fast – not one of them ever remained long enough in his life to make the effort of remembering them worthwhile. But for some strange reason the features of the woman who had dared to throw her drink all over him on Saturday evening had been etched into his mind almost against his own will. It was absurd to be able to recognize someone you’d only seen for an instant, especially if you took into account how dark it had been in the Greenhouse and the state he’d been in at the time. Tipsy, if you wanted to be euphemistic about it.
But in spite of all of that, he recognized her – she was the microbe terrorist who had left without even apologizing. Actually, instead of begging for forgiveness, for a moment that evening it had almost seemed to him that she had stopped on the stairs and was debating with herself as to whether to come back down and punch his lights out. She’d even managed to have an extremely belligerent air about her as she’d walked away. Women never usually acted like that with him: some of them felt sorry for him, some were so deluded that they wanted to try and save him and some, instead, were just afraid of him. But he had never met one that treated him as though she wanted to hack him to pieces before. And the way Sara Di Giovanni was glaring at him at that precise moment was actually even meaner than the way she had two nights before .
Suddenly Ethan didn’t feel so sure. About anything. And he had the good sense, for the first time in a long time, to feel slightly worried.
*
“So let me just summarize the most important points, Ms Di Giovanni,” the judge explained shortly after. “Mr Phelps will have the right to spend as he wishes, thirty thousand dollars a month through bank drafts, cheques and credit cards, and it will be up to you two to decide how to divide the sum – but remember, no more than thirty thousand a month!”
Sara almost fell out of her chair on hearing that figure. “Thirty thousand a month ?” she repeated incredulously.
“See how they treat me?” the ridiculous scuzzball sitting at her right had the nerve to joke. “That pittance barely covers my living expenses…”
Jane Richter gave him a serious look. “I’d like to remind you that these restrictive decisions were taken for your own good after we examined the state of your bank accounts. You can spend thirty thousand as you think best, and the other half will be under the control of your court appointed guardian, who will have to use it to cover your living expenses, staff salaries and other similar needs. ”
Sara kept looking at them all as if she’d found herself trapped inside an ambulance headed towards the loony bin. And driving in the fast lane. “Staff? ”
Ethan smiled angelically. “My driver, and my gofer too, and the housekeepers. Pretty basic, right?”
She preferred not to comment, but she couldn’t stop herself from repeating the figure. For someone like her, who had grown up in the real world, it was a struggle to conceive of anyone getting through that much money. “Sixty thousand dollars a month…” she mumbled incredulously.
“I’m sorry,” he asked her insolently, “do you practice in the city of New York or do you usually specialize in people from the Third World?”
He was trying to provoke her, of course, and wisely, Sara decided not to fall for it. For a perfect idiot he was proving to be remarkably perspicacious. That meant that he wasn’t stupid at all but just pretended to be most of the time. She couldn’t work out if that was a good thing or not.
She looked up at Richter, who tried to reassure her with a smile. It was obvious why she looked so happy – she would soon have rid herself of that thorn in her side. Unfortunately, Sara couldn’t claim that fortune had reserved the same good luck for her.
“Don’t forget, the sixty thousand total shouldn’t be wasted,” she reminded both of them with a peremptory tone. Given her insistence, Sara concluded that Ethan Phelps was rather inclined to break the rules. The ones about his money, first of all, followed by all the others.
Well, he would have to change his attitude with her.
“Over my dead body,” Sara assured Judge Richter solemnly.
Ethan wasn’t looking too concerned. To be precise, his face had gone from being disinterested to being just plain bored.
“Excellent. Well, given that we have clarified all the points on the agenda, I would suggest we say goodbye at this point. Ms Di Giovanni has to be in court shortly,” explained the judge, getting up from her chair in order to clear the room. Sara did not wait for her to repeat it – she jumped up out of her chair like a cat, all set to make a run for it. She had just enough time to regain control of her mental faculties and have a coffee before the hearing. She was feeling pretty shaken by this new job that had been dumped on her, and it was a feeling she didn’t like at all.
Ethan got up as well and stretched. Sara had to admit once again to herself that he really was impressively tall. “Great, so now I can finally get some sleep,” he mumbled. Sara set off resolutely towards the exit and was turning the door handle when a sleepy voice forced her to stop. “Though now that I come to think about it,” he said suddenly, “my beauty sleep can wait a little longer. How about a coffee… Ms Di Giovanni?”
She turned to look at him and it only took her a second to realize that conciliatory tone of his was a ruse. His belligerent expression, however, was far more sincere. As she had already realized, despite everything, the guy was not completely devoid of working neurons. All she had to do was wait until he decided to turn them on.
Richter’s emphatic expression of encouragement made it obvious that she had no choice but to accept. After all, they had just named her his court appointed guardian. She returned his glare but somehow managed to answer in a pleasant voice. “Excellent idea, Mr Phelps.”
And that was how it all began.
*
They sat at a small table in the miserable diner right across from the courthouse. The location made it quite popular, despite the drab color of the furniture and the decor that had seen better days.
Sara clutched her cup of coffee and looked at Ethan Phelps in disbelief as he tried not to touch anything. He had said he was fine and had refused even to have a coffee, but she suspected he had declined the offer more for reasons of hygiene than anything else. This thing with the germs looked like a real phobia and not just part of his schtick.
The natural light confirmed that his eyes actually were turquoise, just as she had surmised on Saturday. Not contact lenses, then. They were a strange blend of light blue and green, which was made even more magnetic by the rather dark eyelashes that framed them. It was one or the other – either he dyed his eyelashes or he dyed the hair that went down to his shoulders platinum blonde. If she’d had to make a guess, she would have bet on the second hypothesis. For some strange reason, she found the idea that such an imposing man was vain enough to let himself be tortured with bleach rather amusing.
