Chapter One

Sandy

It all happens in slow motion.

At the sound of my worst nightmare, I am helpless to do anything to stop it but freeze in place. With my heart in my throat, I turn around to look at the back of my skirt, my eyes going wide with horror when I see the split—one that wasn't there when I left my place this morning. I must have caught it on the taxi door as I climbed out. It's just my luck that the person I'm meeting was waiting for me at the office's entrance, so I don't even have time to make a dash for the bathroom.

"Miss, are you alright?"

I look up at the kind older gentleman walking ahead of me, and offer him a sweet smile, making no indication that I am dying on the inside. The man, who had been wearing a large cowboy hat that he now holds in his gnarled hands, was waiting on the sidewalk to greet me on my first day at my new job. He introduced himself as Hank and explained that when he'd heard I was due to arrive, he was afraid I wouldn't know where to go in the maze-like old building. And he was right, without his guidance, I'd be utterly lost. He's been kind enough to escort me to the HR office, and the last thing I want to do is burden him with my wardrobe issues.

"I'm fine," I manage, though I am anything but.

I am not fine. Far from it .

Hank nods and keeps climbing the narrow stairway. The second his eyes are off me, I drop my mask, wincing when I feel the tear again. I tug at the hem of my skirt uselessly, hoping to at least adjust my skirt the tear isn't in such an…indecent spot.

I bite back a whimper when I feel another tear stretch wider.

"Please don't rip. Please!" I mutter a prayer, begging whichever higher being is listening to grant me this one wish, after which I will never ask for anything for the rest of my life.

After the plea, I test my luck by taking another step up, begging the threads holding my skirt from ripping open and exposing my bare ass to hold. Someone must be listening to my prayer because the skirt holds for the first, second, and even third steps.

Okay, I can do this.

I slowly follow the gentleman up the stairs, and now that my attention isn't completely on my ripped skirt, I start to take notice of the staircase walls adorned with framed legal certificates. I stop and lean in to take a closer look, surprised to find that one of the certificates dates back four decades. I didn't even think this town existed four decades ago.

I make my way up a few more steps the certificates give way to photos lining the wall, seeming to tell a story of the law firm and its history. The black-and-white images in particular exude a sense of timeless elegance, capturing moments in and out of the building. Most of them are captured with what I imagine are important figureheads, and I manage to pick out a few familiar faces.

Before I can try and guess which one of the suited men in the photos is going to my new boss, my attention is caught by a particular black-and-white photo taken outside of this very building. It's an old-fashioned photo with a stone-faced young man in his mid-twenties staring directly into the camera. He looks very young but the photo has managed to captured the blankness in his eyes.

It's almost…chilling.

I have met many lawyers in the few years I have trained and worked as a legal assistant, but none of their eyes looked as this young man's. None of them were so cold and empty.

I wonder who he is.

"Miss Beck?"

I look away from the photo to find Hank watching me from the top landing. Oh, right. I can't believe I got distracted by the photos and forgot that this man is going out of his way to help me find the right office.

"Sorry," I mutter, pushing away from the wall and starting for him. I am conscious of every step I take, unwilling to test my luck with the skirt.

Everything will be fine as long as I move slowly, I assure myself. As long as I don't take large steps, it's unlikely for the skirt to rip further.

Slow deep breath, Sandy.

I can't afford to move too quickly to catch up to Hank, or it might cause the skirt to rip further. I can't panic either. Panicking will only make things worse for me.

I manage to make it to the landing without incident, and I breathe out a long sigh when I realize I don't need to take any more stairs. A long hallway stretches ahead of us with doors facing each other, and I can only hope that whatever office I'm headed to isn't far off.

"Which of the attorneys will you be working for again?" the man says, turning to me.

"Oh, right." I dig my hands into my bag and bring out the employment contract I printed. "His name is…Wilson L. Hile. Do you know which office is his?" I hope he doesn't point to the flight of stairs and tell me it's on the fourth and top floor of the building.

The man goes silent for a long moment, and I look up to find his eyes wide with something akin to horror before it quickly transforms into pity.

"I take it you are new in town, huh?"

"I just moved here."

"I figured," he mutters under his breath, but I catch his words. "They must have run out of people in this town that want to work for the man."

Well, that's ominous.

It's surely not the first thing you want to hear about your boss after blowing all your savings to move across the country to a little town in the middle of nowhere. When I first applied for the job, I didn't expect to get an interview, let alone be offered the job. I was, after all, applying to be the legal assistant to a senior associate. I don't have enough experience to even qualify for such a position, but I applied anyway. My experience so far has been working with junior lawyers, and I was shocked to even get the interview.

The interview happened over the phone, and the lady on the other end of the line sounded as desperate to hire me as I was to get the job. I was taken aback by that, but I refused to think too much into it. When I learned that I would have to move across the country for the opportunity, it didn't even occur to me to say no.

Maybe I should have taken a little more time to think about it and not jump at the first person willing to hire me. There were warning signs about this job that I chose to explain away, including the impressive salary and the assistance with relocation expenses, but now, watching this stranger shake his head at me with pity clear in his eyes makes me think that maybe I should have paid better attention to those warnings after all.

It's too late to second-guess myself now. I'm already here.

"Thanks for bringing being my guide," I tell the gentleman. "Which office did you say is Mr. Hile's again?"

"I didn't," he says, his voice much softer and heavy with pity. "But the second door to your left belongs to the head of HR."

I follow his pointed finger to the door, and I nod, thanking him once more and wishing him a good day before slowly walking toward the door. I knock once before a voice calls out for me to walk in. I hug the contract to my chest as I slowly waddle into the office, careful not to upset the tear in my skirt.

A white-haired lady looks up from the papers on her desk, and her face lights up when she sees me. "You're here!" she cries out, pushing up from her chair and rushing to me. "Oh my God, I can't believe you actually showed up."

I blink owlishly at the lady. Why wouldn't I show up? She hired me for the job and asked me to come in today. Am I missing something?

"Uh, hi. We spoke on the phone and through emails. My name is—"

"Sandy Beck, yes. You look just like the photo you sent me. You know, sometimes, we get overly edited photos that we have a hard time verifying if it's indeed the person, but I am happy that is not the case for you," she says, grabbing my shoulders and guiding me to the visitor's chair. "My name is Martha Bailey, but everyone calls me Martha."

"Uh…"

"Did you have trouble finding this place?"

I slowly lower myself to the chair before turning to Martha. "No, the directions you sent me were easy to follow."

"Excellent. That's great to hear." She walks back to her chair and swings it around to face me. "Welcome to Hile Law and Associates. So, I have a few forms for you to sign before I introduce you to the man you'll be working for."

Sounds easy enough. "Okay."

Martha hands me a contract, which I go through, and everything seems in order, so I grab a pen and sign on the dotted line, handing it over to her.

"Great," Martha says excitedly, grabbing the contract from me quickly, almost as if she's terrified that I'll change my mind about the job, but there is no going back. I'm here now, and I will do my best to stay. "Alright then, Miss Beck, let's go meet Wilson Hile. He is a senior associate, like I told you, and the best criminal defense lawyer in the county."

I slowly rise from the chair, bracing myself on the desk so as not to make any sudden movements and upset my skirt. Martha seems too excited to tell me all about Mr. Hile's impressive reputation to notice my discomfort. I don't focus on her words, too conscious of every move I make in fear I will further rip my skirt and embarrass myself in front of my new employer.

We reach the end of the hall, and Martha stops at an empty desk situated outside a door, and I assume that's going to be my new workstation. Martha confirms it by pointing at the desk. "The last assistant left a few weeks ago, and the desk has been sitting empty since then. Let me know if you need anything changed."

"Okay," I say, but she's already turned around to knock on the large door made of a rich dark wood with a shiny black plaque at the top, indicating the office's occupant. Martha doesn't wait for a response before pushing open the door and walking in.

I take in a deep breath and waddle in after her, my eyes taking in everything at once. I notice the opulence that fills the room the second I step inside. The furniture exudes elegance with a grand mahogany desk at the center of the room, complemented by plush leather chairs for guests. The walls are adorned with framed diplomas, certificates, and awards. My eyes shift to the massive shelf built into the wall filled with law books and memorabilia, and for a second, I forget myself. Curiosity almost sends me walking to the shelves for a closer look.

"Miss Beck?"

"Huh?"

My cheeks flare up at being caught gawking, and I straighten up, turning to look at the man seated behind the massive desk, and I suck in a sharp breath as my eyes connect with icy blue ones. They are so cold, they send a shiver trailing up my back.

They are the same blank eyes from the picture on the staircase wall. That photo was an older version of the man before me.

Oh. My new employer must be related to the firm's founder.

Seated behind the table is the devil incarnate. At least he seems that way, and it's not just those unnerving eyes. No, it's everything about him. From his broad shoulders pushing against the crisp white shirt to a sharp jaw that would no doubt cut through glass and perfectly styled black hair. There is not a strand out of place.

The man, with his striking presence, exudes authority. The kind that can only be earned after decades of holding power, but this man seems to be in his mid or late thirties.

Does the coldness come naturally to him?

Oblivious to my sudden nerves, Martha grabs my shoulders and pulls me to her side. "Mr. Hile, this is your new legal assistant, Sandy Beck. I emailed you her credentials, and you approved the hire."

Martha almost sounds desperate as she speaks, afraid the man will change his mind about hiring me, and for a second, even I get that feeling. His face is blank. I can't tell if he wants me here or not, and that unnerves me.

The man doesn't speak for a long time. His eyes stay fixed on mine, those icy blues piercing my soul, and I find myself shuffling on my feet. Even if he hasn't said a single word, I can already imagine what his voice sounds like.

"You may leave, Martha," Mr. Hile says, and his voice is deep and full of authority.

"I'll leave you to it," Martha says, patting my shoulder reassuringly before rushing out. I almost want to beg her to take me with her, but the door is already closing behind her when I turn around to look, leaving me alone in the office with this intense man.

With Martha gone, there is tense silence that falls over us, and I shuffle nervously on my feet, trying to figure out if I should say something to break the tension or wait for him to speak. I don't have to wonder for long as the man finally speaks.

"Sit down," he instructs, and I nod, way too eager to offer my shaking legs a reprieve, except I move too fast, a little too eagerly—

I feel a sudden, sharp tug at the back of my skirt. My eyes widen to saucers when I hear the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing, and the material gives way with a ripping noise that echoes in the space.

My new boss stares at me with something akin to surprise, but I can't be sure as his expression quickly fades back to nothing.

Talk about first impressions.

I bite my lip and blink back the tears that threaten to spill at the hopelessness of this situation. I want to run… Or hide. Anything to avoid meeting my new boss's eyes, but I do neither.

I need this job.

Ripped skirt or not, I can't run away.