On my current rotation, I have a major pharmaceutical merger (worth $63 billion), I’m representing Zion Oil as they attempt to purchase a renewable energies company (for $148 million), and I’m helping a British luxury fashion brand who’s anxious to scoop up a few smaller brands (collectively worth $597 million).

  I’m in such a good mood I almost give in when a senior associate attempts to strike up a conversation with me in the elevator.

  Almost.

  On the 70th floor, I head straight for my office. Lucy’s in there, laying out documents on my desk like she usually does in the mornings. I zero in on the steaming mug of coffee sitting right in front of my computer.

  My eyebrows nearly touch my hairline. “You brought me coffee?”

  This is an absolute first.

  Lucy snorts. “Over my dead body. If you think I’m about to start waiting on you hand and foot, you’ve got another think coming. It’s from Scarlett. She brought it to me to give to you a little while ago, but I told her to just set it down herself. I still needed to go to the printer anyway.”

  I scowl at her in a way that would cause anyone else to worry about losing bladder control. Doesn’t even faze Lucy though.

  “You let her in here on her own?” My voice booms.

  She rolls her eyes. “What was she going to do, steal company secrets?”

  I look around my desk for anything damning, but it’s neat and tidy, completely free of personal effects—just the way I like it. “You have a point. Were you able to print the latest 409A valuation for SolarCo?”

  “The appraisers haven’t sent it to us yet.”

  That was supposed to be done yesterday. “How long does a damn appraisal take?”

  “Well…”

  “That was a rhetorical question. Did she spit in it, you think?” I’m pointing down at the mug now. It’s tempting to take a sip. She filled it all the way to the top, no cream.

  “The coffee? I would have.”

  “No way to tell if it’s been poisoned…” I hold it over toward Lucy. “Here, you taste it first.”

  “That’s above my pay grade, I’m afraid. How about I get by my phone in case I need to call 9-1-1 real quick?”

  “Real quick? You’ve never been quick in your whole damn life.”

  “Right, well, good luck with your poisoned coffee. Oh and by the way, Scarlett came by yesterday afternoon too. Seemed kind of rattled. She wanted to be sure you hadn’t tried to contact her about anything. I asked if she wanted to schedule a time to meet with you and she nearly jumped out of her skin telling me no.”

  “I can see from your accusing stare you think I’ve done something to her.”

  “You better not have.”

  “Relax.” Then I harden my features. “Though I’m not sure why you’d care.”

  She props her hand on her hip. “I knew that girl when she was still in diapers. Cute as can be—still is.” She smiles. “Ah, so you noticed that too.”

  I immediately relax my face just in case I was giving something away. “What the hell are you on about?”

  She waggles her finger toward me. “I saw that little spark in your eyes when I mentioned her.”

  I roll my non-sparking eyes. “You’ve really lost it. They say your mind can go”—I snap—“just like that at your age.”

  She barks out a laugh and shakes her head, turning to leave my office. “I left your mail for you on your desk. Now I don’t want you bothering me for at least an hour. I’m going to drink my tea and do some of my crossword in peace before the phones start ringing off the hook.”

  “Whatever you say.” I’m already reaching down to rifle through my mail. Invitations, marketing materials, letters—I get all my correspondence sent here, rather than my house. Near the middle of today’s stack, I spot a cream envelope that feels luxuriously heavy in my hand. Boy do rich people love thick cardstock, let me tell you.

  I slice through the top of it with my letter opener to see it’s a save the date for Conrad Elwood’s wedding. The first weekend in March, he’ll marry a woman named Hannah Kline here in Chicago. I’m not surprised I’ve been invited. Though Conrad practices in the Los Angeles office now, he was assigned to my team as a summer associate at the Chicago office years and years ago. On top of that, this will likely be a massive wedding. I wouldn’t be surprised if every partner at the firm has received the save-the-date.

  I set it aside so Lucy can add it to my calendar. Then, quickly, I pick it back up to read how they’ve addressed the envelope: Hudson Rhodes and guest.

  Oh goodie.

  I’m mulling over my date options—all zero of them—when Lucy shouts a belated, “Mr. Elwood wants to see you!”

  I gotta get a new assistant, man.

  Scarlett’s brother is already walking through my door, not bothering with a knock. That’s what I get for leaving my door open. When he leaves, I’ll deadbolt it shut.

  “Barrett, a pleasure. Wish I had time for whatever you’re about to say, but I don’t, so if you could—”

  “Humor me, Rhodes. You can spare two seconds, I’m sure.”

  Wanting to get this over with quickly, I wave for him to get on with it. At least I can continue opening my mail while he talks. Multitasking is a particular joy of mine. I can do two, three things at once at any given moment.

  “Word spread about the new-hire assignments. Scarlett shouldn’t be on your team.”

  Here we go. I’m not surprised he’s here to discuss this. I figured he’d come find me eventually.

  “Your dad put her there, so take your issue up with him.” I say this while glancing over a junk mail flyer for a car detailing service. Fifty bucks for interior and exterior detailing—that’s not bad.

  “You didn’t move her yourself?”

  I flip the flyer over to review the front. “Why would I have done that?”

  He shakes his head, frowning, thinking… Obviously, this isn’t how he thought this conversation would go.

  “Take your sister off my service. I don’t care, but this whole charade is getting a little tiring. I’d rather not have a rotating door of Elwoods coming in and out of my office every day.”

  He’s frowning at me, giving me the macho act. “If he wants her on your service, that’s fine. But I’m warning you, if you—”

  I suddenly groan like I’m being choked to death. “Oh god. Save it. Your dad already beat you to it. You know you two are really doing her no favors. Enough with the cavemen bullshit. Is she an attorney or is she not?”

  He scowls, but at least he shuts up. That’s progress.

  “Your sister is going to be fine.” I reach for my mug. “She actually brought me coffee this morning.”

  I go for the first sip, taking a gamble on the whole poisoning thing. I’d hate to give Barrett the pleasure of watching me die an agonizing death, but I figure it’s worth the risk to see his shocked expression.

  Mmm. Freshly brewed pecan blend, my favorite.

  “You have her bringing you coffee?”

  Oh, he’s pissed.

  My smug smile nearly sends him over the edge. These Elwoods are so easy to toy with. Scarlett has the same temper as her brother, as evidenced by her little outburst yesterday. I’ve never had an associate—a first-year associate at that—call me an asshole. To my face.

  I almost smiled when I heard her say it. I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep my amusement from showing in that conference room.

  “Getting a partner a cup of coffee is hardly outside the realm of possibilities for a new hire,” I tell him.

  Barrett clenches his jaw before wisely turning to leave so things don’t escalate further. “Do us all a favor and, for once, be a decent human.”

  A decent human!? Now that’s asking too much…

  Sure, I could have cleared the issue up with him, told him his little sister voluntarily brought me coffee this morning rather than me demanding it of her, but eh, too late.

  “Hey, Luce!” I shout. “Come get this flyer and schedule my car to get detailed, will you?”

  To which Lucy replies, loud and clear, “No!”

  Fucking crossword book—that’s the last time I get her a Christmas present.

  I work tirelessly through the morning and, occasionally, I think of Scarlett. I’m not totally sure what tasks I should send her way. I mean, I know I could do all the usual fun things: laundry pick-up, a little shoeshine, send her across town to get one single cookie. All of that is great, don’t get me wrong, but where’s the inspiration? Where’s the real wickedness?

  Truth be told, when I told her I’d have extra work for her yesterday, I was talking out of my ass. I don’t have extra work. I do my work—with pleasure. I’m a control freak, and the last thing I’m going to do is let some first-year associate come anywhere near one of my contracts.

  I’m still at the drawing board concerning the Scarlett situation when, around lunchtime, I head down to our building’s food court. Usually, Lucy will come down to get us both something to eat. Today, I volunteered to do it. I’ve been at my desk all morning and needed a little break. No, it has nothing to do with Lucy complaining about a headache.

  I enjoy the quick walk. Later, I’ll use the building’s gym to work out, but for now, browsing the restaurant options in the food court will have to suffice for physical activity. Lucy requested Chinese food, which is just plain insane. Chinese food in the middle of the day? I opt for a sandwich and salad combo from a deli instead, knowing full well I’ll put away half of Lucy’s Chinese food when she inevitably doesn’t finish it. This way, though, I get the added health benefits of eating two lunches instead of one.

  I’m waiting for the deli to finish making my turkey club when I scan the crowded seating area. I’m not consciously looking for Scarlett until I spot her left of center at a table by herself. She’s eating a salad topped with—I narrow my eyes trying to make out her plate from way over here—grilled chicken. Huh, so she’s health-conscious like me.

  “Wait, did you want double cheese on this?” the teenager behind the counter asks me.

  “Yeah, load ’er up.”

  Scarlett’s reading a book while she eats, stuffing bite after bite into her mouth in quick succession like she’s in a hurry to get out of here. Maybe she’s in a rush to get back to work, or maybe she wants to avoid the other first-years from our department who are sitting only a few tables away from her. All ten of them are together, everyone sitting and goofing off while they eat—everyone except her.

  Why?

  Is it by choice? Did the group invite her to join and she declined? That doesn’t seem right. Why alienate yourself from your peers this early on? I mean, I didn’t make friends when I was her age, but that’s different.

  I’m still watching when a guy walks up to her table and bends down to talk to her. Scarlett’s face lights up. The guy points down at the unoccupied chair right beside Scarlett, and I expect him to tug it out and sit down to join her. Instead, he pulls the chair away and plops it down at a new table, leaving Scarlett there, still all alone.

  She looks up and around, her cheeks red. When our eyes meet, her gaze widens, and then she looks down quickly, brushing her hair behind her ear and acting as if it never happened.

  “Here’s your turkey club.”

  I take my sandwich and am about to curve around the edge of the food court and head toward the elevators. That’s the plan, at least until I somehow get lost on the way and end up right in front of Scarlett.

  She’s looking down. She hasn’t seen me. From this angle, she seems so small and fragile.

  Christ, when’s the last time I thought that about someone?

  “What are you doing?” I ask the question brusquely, but that’s just how I talk. Ask Lucy; she’ll confirm my factory settings are gruff or gruffer.

  Scarlett’s head shoots up in surprise, and I love watching the flurry of emotions race across her face. First is shock, but that quickly gives way to suspicion. I see it all in her inquisitive brow. Then, oh yes, anger. Her red lips thin into an annoyed line.

  “I’m eating,” she says pointedly. She doesn’t like that I’ve come over here and interrupted her, I guess. Or who knows—I can’t possibly begin to understand this girl. All I know is she’s looking up at me with a scowl like she’d like me to excuse myself as efficiently as possible. I bet she’s wishing she had an evacuation button she could employ.

  “Why not with them?” I tilt my head in the direction of the other first-years.

  She looks their way and then turns back quickly, her cheeks turning red again. “Who cares? Does it matter? I’m just finishing up my salad while I read.”

  She flips a page to prove her point. I’ll just bet she wasn’t done reading it yet. She’ll have to turn back when I walk away. The thought almost makes me laugh.

  “Is it the last-name thing? Like you can’t deign to lower your standards and befriend a group of regular people?”

  Her jaw drops. “Are you kidding?”

  Okay good, so she’s not a snob.

  “So then they’re being assholes.”

  That’s what I assumed, and I’m glad my intuition was right.

  “Your brother came to my office this morning. That marks two visits from family members warning me to go easy on you. Should I expect your mother this afternoon?”

  She rears back, surprised, and I wonder if she knew about either visit. Her tone lightens a little with her reply. “My mother’s in Europe, so no. But…don’t be shocked if you get a call from Wyatt or Conrad.” She sounds resigned as she continues, “They’re just as protective as Barrett.”

  Then she looks back down at her book, turning yet another page. Dismissing me again. At this rate she’ll have to turn back a few chapters once I leave.

  “I want you to sit in on a call with me this afternoon and take notes.”

  She looks up and blinks fast, trying to compute this new task in her head. “Okay, I’m supposed to finish up a draft of a contract for Sophie, but I can push that and—”

  “I don’t need your entire life story. Find a way to be in my office for a 4:00 p.m. phone call.”

  Then I walk away before I do something stupid, like ask her if she wants to come and eat lunch with Lucy and me.

  Chapter Seven

  Scarlett

  I’m in the lobby outside Hudson’s office by 3:50 p.m. and not a minute later.

  Lucy’s at her desk, watching a little TV that’s set up on the built-in counter behind her desk. It’s barely a foot wide in any direction with a grainy screen and a slot for a VHS tape.

  “How old is that thing?” I can’t help the question from tumbling out.

  “Shhh! It’s just getting good. She’s about to tell him the baby isn’t his.”

  She’s watching a soap opera. While at work.

  I have so many questions…

  “Get in here,” Hudson says from his open door before he turns and storms back into his office.

  I roll my eyes and call out to him as I follow. “Have you ever heard the expression you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?”

  Lucy bursts out laughing. “You tell him!”

  “Don’t listen to her,” he retorts dryly, referring to Lucy. “She’s senile.”

  “Look at that! Another vacation day added to my schedule!” Lucy shouts back tauntingly.

  Hudson totally ignores her as he reclaims his seat behind his desk.

  I look around the room. “Where should I…”

  He frowns at the question. “Anywhere. Have you never been inside an office before? Where there’s a chair, yeah, that’s where you’re allowed to put your butt.”

  A sassy response is begging to be set free. Truly, this is the hardest I’ve had to work at holding my tongue in…forever.

  But yesterday, I let my whims get away from me with that “asshole” comment. Today, we’re repenting. I’m going to zip my lips and take my chair and pretend I’m sitting across from the nicest man in the world. A real saint.

  “Not that one,” Hudson says with an exasperated sigh when I choose a chair halfway across the room from him. I was trying to put a bit of distance between us. For safety. “You won’t even be able to hear the damn call if you’re way over there.”

  “Then tell me where you want me!”

  Ope, look at that. Back at square one.

  I squeeze my eyes closed and do a deep breathing exercise I make up right now on the spot. Picture Hudson as a balloon floating far, far away, never to be seen or heard from ever again.

  Oh, an even better one! Picture Hudson as a balloon stuck up on the tallest branch of the tallest tree for the rest of eternity.

  “Here.”

  My eyes fly open as he curves around his desk to grab a heavy upholstered chair. He drags it around the corner so it’s not exactly behind his desk where his chair is, but it’s not where guests normally sit either. It’s in a weird in-between spot, and it puts me only a few feet away from him. In the danger zone, so to say. I can smell his cologne from here. If I go any closer? Who knows what could happen.

  He points to it until I walk around and take my seat, dutifully.

  “Now just listen and take notes.”

  “Will this be for a grade?”

  His eyes narrow, but underneath the stern exterior, I swear he’s enjoying this. “Are you trying to test my patience?”

  “Quite frankly, I’m not sure. My original plan was to be nice to you today.”

  “And how’s that going for you?”

  I arch my brow just as the phone on his desk rings. He’s still looking at me as he answers it.

  “Rhodes,” he says by way of greeting. Then, “Yeah, listen, TJ, let me put you on speaker. I’ve got a junior associate here with me and she’s promised not to interrupt.”

  I made no such promise, but I do know when to pick my battles and this is not one of them. I mime closing a zipper over my lips, and Hudson swaps the call over to speakerphone so I can hear both sides.

  There is no explanation or context given, no attempt to get me up to speed from either party. Hudson and TJ both act like I’m not there as they launch into their meeting. Unsurprisingly, there’s no small talk or polite conversation. I can’t even imagine Hudson asking someone how their day is going. It’s laughable. Though to be fair, with attorneys, time is valuable, and there’s no sense in squandering it for no good reason.