Free Speak of the Devil by Jenna Black Page A

concluded.
    There he went with his impeccable logic again. “I still didn’t want to upset you.”
    “So you’re never going to tell me anything that might upset me?” He was starting to get all pissed again. “You’re going to keep me in the dark, packed in cotton like some fragile glass ornament you only bring out at Christmas? How would you feel if I treated
you
that way?”
    Once again, he had a point. My internal defense mechanisms wanted me to attack right back—I’m one of those “offense is the best defense” people—but I fought that instinct, taking a deep breath to calm myself down before I spoke.
    “You’re right,” I admitted.
    Brian looked startled.
    “I’d hate it if you did that to me. And I’ll try my best not to do it again.”
    His look was one of classic skepticism. “You’re going to stop hiding things from me ‘for my own good’?”
    I grimaced. “I’ll try,” I promised. I thought of the big secret I was
still
keeping about what I’d let Adam do to me. But that was an
old
secret, and I was only promising not to keep
new
ones, right? “I’m probably going to screw up now and again, because it’s second nature to me. But I’ll try
hard
. Can you live with that?”
    He regarded me for a long time before he answered, and I got the feeling he was searching every nuance of my expression for hidden clues. Finally, he sighed.
    “I can live with that,” he said guardedly, “as long as your attempts meet with some success. Consider yourself on romantic probation and be on your best behavior for a while, okay?”
    I didn’t like the way he’d phrased that—it sounded suspiciously like an ultimatum—but he was being pretty reasonable under the circumstances, so I nodded my acceptance.
    I was still trying to figure out whether I should ask Brian about staying with him for a little while, just until we discovered who my secret admirer was, when the phone rang. I grabbed the phone and glanced at the caller ID. Jack Hillerman.
    The name sounded vaguely familiar, but it took me a moment to place it. Then I remembered that Hillerman was Maguire’s attorney, the one Laura thought was trying to make a name for himself at my expense. Just who I wanted to talk to right now.
    “Who is it?” Brian asked as I sat there stupidly staring at the phone.
    “Maguire’s lawyer.” The phone rang for a fourth time, and my answering machine picked up. I was pretty sure I didn’t want to hear whatever Hillerman had to say. I noticed Brian wasn’t bugging me to answer it, so I figured I was making the right decision.
    The answering machine beeped, then started to record.
    “Ms. Kingsley,” said a deep male voice with an upper-crust accent that immediately made me think “pretentious snob.” “This is Jack Hillerman. I amJordan Maguire’s attorney. It is my understanding that you made an attempt to contact my client this afternoon.”
    Brian raised an eyebrow at me. I held up a hand in a “wait a minute” gesture.
    “From now on,” Hillerman continued, “I must insist that any attempts to speak to my client be made through me. If you call him or speak to him again, I will have a restraining order put on you. My client has been through enough trauma without having to be harrassed by the author of his troubles.”
    The answering machine beeped again, and I realized Hillerman had hung up. Brian was still giving me the eyebrow arch, so I answered his unspoken question.
    “I thought maybe if I talked to Maguire, we could work something out without having to go through all this lawsuit bullshit. I knew it was a long shot, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to try. I just left a message with his daughter asking him to call. I certainly didn’t
harass
him.”
    “Have you hired an attorney yet?”
    I didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
    “Morgan, hire an attorney. Tomorrow. I mean it.”
    “Okay, okay.”
    “These guys are obviously planning to play hardball, and you’ve never exactly