Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
I continue tucking things into my briefcase. “I had the law and the facts on my side.” And your client is a dick.
“Eh, agree to disagree.”
I swing my briefcase over my shoulder and face him. “Well, the judge agreed, and that’s all that really matters, right?” I paste on a sweet smile that is fake as fuck.
One corner of his mouth slides up. “Can I buy you lunch? We haven’t sat down to catch up in ages.”
Before Marcel and I were together, David and I maintained a sort of friendship left over from law school. Lunches weren’t uncommon. But I started to see a smug, cruel side of him I didn’t like and stopped accepting the invitations. Today doesn’t feel like the day to start that up again.
My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my briefcase.
Ol’ Man: How’d it go?
Me: I won.
Ol’ Man: That’s my girl.
The corners of my mouth tug up.
“Charlotte?”
“Huh? Oh, sorry.” I tuck my phone away.
“Lunch?”
“I can’t—”
“Come on, there’s a cafe right next door. You have to be starving after that closing argument.”
I am starving and the cafe next door was exactly where I planned to go to grab a sandwich before heading back to my office. Change my plans or get this over with?
My stomach growls as if it would like to weigh in on my dilemma.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Great.” He strides down the aisle leading out of the now empty courtroom, leaving me to follow. He pushes open the wide swinging doors and holds one side open for me.
My heels clack over the marble floor as I hurry to match his long strides. We pass the guarded entrance. One of the officers shouts a greeting to me and I wave.
“They seem to know you well here,” David says once we’re outside.
“I practice in this courthouse a lot.”
“I noticed.” He lets out a wry laugh.
Not my fault he didn’t ask about the local rules before agreeing to take this case.
There’s a line at the cafe but we’re eventually directed to a booth in the back.
After we place our orders with the frazzled waitress, David rolls up his sleeves and rests his forearms on the table. “So, is it everything you thought it was going to be when we were in law school?”
I don’t have to ask him what it is. Lots of lawyers toss this question around. In fact, I think he and I have had this conversation before. “Not at all. You?”
“Nope. Better.”
Good for you.
Our waitress deposits our plates on the table. Ravenous, I pull mine closer and snag my sandwich.
“Are you still happy being solo?” he asks.
I pause mid-chew and set my sandwich on the plate. “It’s hectic, but I prefer it.”
“Really?” His tone drips with disbelief and condescension. “Have you been able to hire an assistant yet?”
I grit my teeth, embarrassed by the answer. “No, it’s not easy to find someone. I’m picky about how I like things done.” And I can’t afford it. Picky doesn’t sound as pathetic, so I leave it at that.
He chews slowly and takes a sip of water. “Your overhead must be killing you.”
I shrug. Marcel keeps offering to take care of the bills but I refuse to have my husband-to-be finance my law practice. “I do okay.”
“Your office is so tiny. And cave-like.” He shudders as if he needs to emphasize my office is beneath him.
“It suits me.”
“Look,” he says, a note of exasperation coloring his words, “my firm is looking to hire someone.”
I pause, holding my sandwich in the air and raise an eyebrow.
“And I thought of you,” he finishes.
I scoff, then realize he’s serious. I set my sandwich down again and wipe the laughter off my face. “So I can represent rich assholes like your client? Hard pass.”
He chuckles and swipes his napkin over his mouth. “No, the senior partners are looking for someone to do pro bono work. You’d be able to represent all the poor schmucks your little bleeding heart desires. All while having support staff, supplies, and overhead taken care of. No worries. Just concentrate on your beloved riffraff.”
God, working at a firm full of smug assholes like David sounds like my worst nightmare. I’ve never fit in with those kinds of lawyers. But the rest of it sounds like a dream come true. “Why me?”
“Uh, you’re a good lawyer.” He raises his eyebrows like he can’t believe he has to explain this. “And I want to look good to the partners so I can get a nice, fat bonus this year.”
“I’m guessing I wouldn’t be eligible for a bonus?”
He snorts. “I have no idea. You can discuss that with the hiring partner. The salary alone will be more than you’re making now. Without the stress of running your own practice all by yourself.”
It’s tempting. I’m probably an idiot for not jumping at the opportunity. “Let me think about it.”