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The Millionaire's Unexpected Proposal

A Miami Lawyers Novel

Entangled Publishing, LLC

Five years later

The hot Miami sun beat down on Camilla as she shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up at the towering building. She stepped through the revolving door onto the marble floor and breathed in the crisp air-conditioning. She would never have come here if she had any other choice. Desperate times call for desperate measures, she thought, squaring her shoulders and steeling herself. It was, after all, the story of her life. And Danny—the man she'd married for all the wrong reasons and ended up loving for all the right ones—was hardly going to swoop in and save her this time. Or ever again.

The elevator whooshed her soundlessly to the fortieth floor, its doors opening directly into the impressive lobby of the firm. Camilla hesitated for a moment, then ruthlessly suppressed the urge to ride back down to the lobby. Her heels clicked as she walked across the polished wood floor toward the reception area.

The receptionist was a middle-aged woman, impeccably groomed and tastefully formidable.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, I'd like to see Sam Flanagan."

She frowned slightly. "And you are?"

"Camilla Winthrop."

She looked at her computer screen, then back at Camilla.

"I'm sorry. I don't seem to have you listed on Mr. Flanagan's schedule. Let me call his assistant. Jennifer will be happy to set up an appointment for later this week."

"No."

The woman looked up, hand poised over the phone, and raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.

"It's urgent I see him today." Before I lose my nerve.

"I'm sure Mr. Flanagan's assistant will—"

"Just tell him ... it's Camilla from Las Vegas."

"Camilla from Las Vegas."

"Yes." She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a card. "And give him this."

The receptionist frowned at the business card, flipped it over, then looked back at Camilla.

"Please take a seat and I'll check with Mr. Flanagan," she said finally.

Camilla was too nervous to sit. She walked to the window overlooking a view of the Miami skyline and wondered if she was crazy to just show up here, at his office, unannounced. The two weeks they'd spent together in Las Vegas seemed like a lifetime ago. What had started out as a casual fling had quickly meant so much more, at least to her. But obviously not to Sam. The memory of how coldly he'd ended things still stung.

By the time she'd realized she was pregnant she had already married Danny, going through with the plans that ensured that her younger sister would get the expensive medical care she needed. Still, she'd tried to contact Sam. When he didn't even bother to return her phone calls she knew that staying with Danny was the right decision, the only decision, for her sister and for her baby.

* * *

Sam was pacing in his office, fine-tuning the closing argument he would give to the jury when the case reconvened the next morning. His secretary's voice came through the intercom, jarring him back into the present.

"Mr. Flanagan? I'm sorry to interrupt you, but—"

It better be important. "Jen, I asked you to hold all my calls."

"I know but—" She lowered her voice. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." Whatever crisis it was now, he'd just have to get past it.

Jen slipped into the office and shut the door firmly behind her.

"There's a woman in the reception area who is insisting that she see you today."

"What's her name?"

"Camilla Winthrop."

He frowned. "I don't recall anyone by that name."

"She says she's from Las Vegas. And she had one of your cards. But it looks like the old ones."

He held out his hand, flipped the card over, read the inscription. The fact that his expression didn't change was a testament to his finely honed ability to hold a poker face whenever damaging evidence was presented by the other side at trial.

"Send her in."

He walked over to the window, frowning as he gazed out at the panoramic view of Miami afforded by his corner office. They were in the same office tower where they'd started out five years ago. But now, instead of a suite of offices they'd sublet from another tenant, their firm had taken over the entire floor. He flipped the card idly between his fingers.

Camilla. Camilla Winthrop. He realized with a start that he hadn't even known her last name. He'd spent the most amazing two weeks of his life with her. Had actually thought he might be falling for her. And then realized it was time to back off fast. The last thing he'd needed before starting his new firm was to be distracted by an entanglement with a woman he met in a bar in Las Vegas. So he'd cut his trip short. He winced when he remembered their awkward last breakfast, in the dining room of the resort hotel, overlooking the glitter of Vegas. The way she looked when he said it was probably better if they just said good-bye. He'd watched the warmth fade from her eyes, replaced by the cool reserve that had first drawn him to her in the bar. That's fine, Sam, she'd said. As it happens I have plans of my own.

For a while he'd regretted leaving so abruptly and had hoped she'd contact him. She had his business card, but he didn't have a clue where she was from. It was only afterward that he realized that when they weren't making love, they'd talked about his plans, his future. Maybe the fact that she'd been such a complete mystery had added to the way the memory of those two weeks still haunted him.

He shook his head. He'd certainly never expected to hear from her five years later. Obviously, she was in some kind of trouble. And he didn't need this kind of distraction, regardless of how strong the pull of curiosity was.

He turned, sensing a movement in the doorway.

"Hello, Sam." His assistant retreated discreetly, closing the door behind her.

His first thought when Camilla walked across his office toward him was that she was even more stunning than he remembered. He felt, suddenly, as if someone had punched him in the gut. There was a large diamond on her left hand, and her clothes reflected understated elegance. Whatever her problems were, it didn't look like they were financial.

"Camilla." He kept his tone even.

He gestured to a visitor's chair and sat down behind his desk. She was still the picture of cool sophistication and class, even more so than the first time he'd ever seen her. He had a sudden flashback of her sleek blond hair mussed as he ran his fingers through it, those long legs tangled in the silky sheets, her porcelain skin flushed, her quick little intake of breath right before she ... Get a grip, Sam, he told himself, and kept his face carefully without expression. There was some reason she'd shown up here today, and he doubted if it was to reminisce about ancient history.

"I didn't expect to ever see you again."

"You've done well for yourself," she said, looking around the office.

He was annoyed by his own reaction to her, and his words came out harsher than he intended.

"What are you doing here, Camilla?"

She shifted slightly in the chair. "It's a little hard to explain."

"Look, I don't have time for small talk. So why don't you get to the point." He sat back, ready to digest whatever legal problem was on her mind. He'd help her if he could, but only because he still felt bad about the way he'd ended it in Vegas.

"Fine." She crossed her legs and leaned forward, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm here," she said, "because I need you to marry me."

* * *

The look he gave her made her feel like a witness being questioned in one of his trials. She'd gotten his attention, but the interested and slightly amused look had been replaced by eyes so hard that she felt as if his stare were physically pinning her to the chair. The last five years had transformed any lingering traces of boyish charm into chiseled good looks with a slightly dangerous edge. His gray eyes appraised her coolly. She could remember a time when they had darkened with passion. Eyes like storm clouds that reflected the swirling passions he'd aroused in her during that brief escape from the most desperate time in her life. His thick black hair, so perfectly in place now, had been wildly unruly and she resisted the impulse to reach out now, to lean across his desk and see if it still had the texture of silk as it slipped through her fingers. Rekindling an old romance was not what she was here for.

"Is this a joke?" There was no warmth in his voice.

"No."

"I spent two weeks with you in Las Vegas five years ago. I've regretted ending things the way I did." He paused and glanced pointedly at her ring finger. "But apparently you moved on."

The nerve of him. He was the one who dumped her, before she even had a chance to explain what was going on in her life, how badly she wished things were different. She hadn't gone to Vegas intending to meet a man who'd turn her emotions upside down. But she'd felt a connection to Sam. She remembered how they'd strolled through shops on the Strip the last evening they spent together, and how sweet he'd been when she spotted a simple silver chain in a jeweler's case, with two interlocking hearts. He'd bought it for her, fastening it around her neck, and she had felt like she could at least carry with her this one perfect memory. But the clasp must have broken sometime that night, because when she reached to touch the hearts as she lay in bed thinking about her future, the necklace was gone.

After a sleepless night, she'd decided to tell Sam everything and ask for his advice. She had foolishly believed he might help her think of another solution. But before she'd been able to confide in him about her plans, plans she desperately wanted not to go through with, he'd cut her off, discarded her like a stray poker chip left on a table by a vacation gambler returning to his real life. So she'd married Danny, completing her end of what began as nothing more than a business proposition.

"As a matter of fact, I got married a week after you left," she said, meeting his eye and lifting her chin. She was not going to feel guilty when he was the one who had walked away from her. And when the decision she'd made had been to put her sister, Olivia, above all else.

"Well. Then it seems you already have a husband."

"Not anymore. That's why I'm here."

"I don't handle divorces."

This wasn't going at all the way she'd planned. To be honest, she hadn't really had a plan. She'd headed for his office and thought she'd just figure out the best approach once she got there. But the man sitting across the desk from her wasn't the same man at all that she had known in Las Vegas. That Sam had had been cocky and sure of himself, but approachable. This Sam, measuring her with steely eyes, exuded power and control. It would be much harder than she'd expected to get him to understand and to agree with her proposal. "I don't need a divorce lawyer, Sam." She leaned forward. "What I need is for you—"

He cut her off. "To marry you. So you said."

"For you to listen," she finished.

"Camilla, it was ... interesting ... seeing you again, but unless you have a serious legal matter to consult me on, you need to leave. Now."

He was looking at her like he thought she'd lost her mind, and she realized it probably seemed that way.

"Look," he said, "if you had called and made an appointment—"

"I didn't think you'd take my call. Why would it be any different than last time?"

He looked genuinely perplexed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He didn't even remember not returning her phone calls? It had been more than four years since she'd last tried to contact him. But Camilla remembered it very clearly.

She took a deep breath. "I'm here now. Just let me explain."

He glanced at his watch. "You have two minutes. I'm finishing a trial tomorrow, and I don't have time for games."

"Meet me tomorrow then. After you get out of court."

"Why should I do that?"

He was so formidable. She searched his face for a trace of the warmth she'd been drawn to five years ago, but couldn't find it. She just saw someone who got what he wanted through ruthless determination. She felt herself shudder.

"I can't—it's too much to explain. Have dinner with me tomorrow night and I'll explain everything."

He seemed to consider for a few moments and she held her breath. In the sleepless nights she'd spent deciding whether or not to come see him, the one thing she'd never considered was that he might dismiss her without even hearing her out.

Finally, he nodded. "All right. Give me your number and I'll call you when I get out of court. It may be late."

She let her breath out slowly.

"That's fine. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

If there was one thing Sam was good at, it was compartmentalizing his life, locking problems away to be dealt with later, so that he could focus clearly on the matter at hand. It had gotten him through a rocky childhood and served him well in his chosen career.

When he faced the jury, no other thought intruded on his impassioned plea for justice for his client—now a paraplegic thanks to a reckless driver who'd been too busy drinking coffee and texting at fifty miles per hour to notice the red light. Or the compact car coming through the intersection, and the promising high school basketball player in the passenger seat who was now never going to walk again. The driver herself didn't have any money, but the insurance company was sure as hell going to pay every penny of the policy limits. His client's mother sobbed quietly in the background as Sam wrapped up his closing argument.

But when he sat in an empty room in the courthouse, waiting for the jury to return, he let his thoughts entertain the puzzle of Camilla Winthrop showing up at his office. Clearly the woman had lost her mind. It was a pity, because she was even more attractive than he remembered. He'd been surprised at how strong the impulse had been to walk around the desk and take her into his arms to find out if the chemistry between them was really as strong as he remembered. Fortunately, reason prevailed. He was not going to take any chances with a woman who obviously had delusions about marrying him.

She had to be running some sort of scam, but he couldn't figure out what her angle was. The sugar daddy she'd latched onto after Sam returned to Miami had apparently left her high and dry, and she'd decided to find out what had happened to that young lawyer she met once upon a time. Sam wasn't that same kid anymore. He cringed when he remembered how he'd let his guard down, opened up to her, shared his plans and dreams. And apparently Camilla had found out he'd actually surpassed his own expectations.

When he'd started the firm with Jon and Ritchie, he'd expected to be successful. He just hadn't imagined how successful they would be. It had been his idea, which was why his name was first on the door. But it hadn't taken much to talk his law school buddy Jonathon Berrington, an associate at another of Miami's major insurance defense firms, into trading in the long hours and associate's salary for a chance to own their own firm and bring in million-dollar verdicts for plaintiffs. They would change people's lives and make themselves rich in the process. As the plan began to take form, they'd added Ritchie Perez, a hotshot young prosecutor in the state attorney's office, whose handling of high-profile drug and gang violence cases had catapulted him into the public eye as the champion of the underdog, a man who got justice for the little guy. It was exactly the image they wanted.

The three of them had agreed from the beginning that there would be no fender benders, no dog bites, no slip-and-fall cases handled by the law firm of Flanagan, Berrington & Perez. And no clients with dubious claims, no scammers in neck braces faking injuries. They weren't ambulance chasers, and they wouldn't take a case for a client who didn't deserve to win. They would be the ones who stood up for the innocent victims of drunk drivers and of unscrupulous companies that ignored the warnings in their own product safety tests and caused needless suffering. They would specialize in wrongful death, serious bodily injury, and million-dollar verdicts.

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Excerpted from The Millionaire's Unexpected Proposal by Jane Peden, Wendy Chen. Copyright © 2015 Phyllis J. Towzey. Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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