Chapter 17
IT WAS FRIDAY evening, and we’d both been through a rather brutal week. I’d just finished a lengthy trial, and Rion had dealt with several extremely complicated closings. On top of that, he’d seen one big (and potentially lucrative) sale blow up in his face. We’d just had s*x, followed by dinner, and were sitting in the den watching a movie when my BlackBerry rang.
“We’re not home,” he said. “Don’t answer it.”
I ignored him and answered the call, and when I said hello, George Martin said hello back at me.
“Hi, George,” I said., “What’s up?”
“Something interesting—and important,” he said. “I have somebody here who wants, no, needs, to meet you.”
“Now?”
“Now. Can we come over?”
“Sure. Come ahead.”
I hung up.
“What did George want?” Rion said.
“He’s coming over. Says he
