Chapter 4

FOUR

I should have been a professional poker player.

I've spent the better part of two hours attempting to keep a straight face for a potential client. A case my uncle insists we need to take on, promising we will receive a large sum if we secure it.

"What do you think my chances are?" the man asks around a mouthful of the sandwich he's just bitten into. He doesn't wait for me to answer before taking another bite.

I fight the strong urge to gag at the sound of his chewing.

"Well…" I sigh, tapping my finger on the table. "Not good. I'm not sure you even have a case, Mr. Wright."

"What do you mean?" He's shoving some of his unchewed food into the corner of his cheek. His giant, meat-stuffed sandwich falls from his fingertips. "My wife is cheating on me, Ms. Branford. With our gardener ."

"I'm aware." I nod, biting the tip of my tongue. "But you admitted to also having an affair with the gardener. At the same time."

Mr. Wright lifts his napkin and wipes his mouth with more force than necessary. Crumbs from his sandwich fly out, landing in front of my own plate that I haven't touched for over an hour.

"Listen," he sneers. "I didn't make a call to your uncle expecting him to set me up on a meeting with his incompetent niece to talk me out of suing my wife for her infidelity. I was under the impression you were going to help me. In fact, I would be doing you a favor if you took on my case. The way my name announced as one of your clients would thrust you, Laurel Branford, into the spotlight would do wonders for your career. You're a new lawyer who needs someone like me."

My nostrils flare as the frustration bubbles in my chest.

"I don't think my uncle was aware of all the details, Mr. Wright. You told me you had an affair with the gardener. Then two weeks later, you caught your wife with him in the exact same spot you were with him. Do you not see how it's a little hypocritical?"

"No." His eye twitches. "I don't. I'm almost certain she's going to leave me for him and take nearly all of our money with her."

"Has she given you any indication she will leave you?"

He blinks as he sucks his teeth. "Well, no, but she did buy a brand-new Porsche without asking me first."

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I look at Mr. Wright and realize the frustration I feel isn't for him and his diluted belief he can sue his wife for simply having an affair with the same person.

I wonder if my uncle truly didn't know the details of the case Mr. Wright is trying to put forth, or if he's so desperate to keep up our image, he doesn't care how ridiculous the case may seem.

I click my button on my phone, seeing a missed call from Roe and a text from my uncle. Looking up at Mr. Wright, I tilt my head to the side and force my mouth into a pout. "I'm so sorry to skip out on the rest of this meeting, but I have to go."

Mr. Wright's face turns a bright shade of red. He points a stiff finger in my direction. "You're making a big mistake here, Ms. Branford."

My chair scrapes across the tile, and I snatch my purse from the empty seat to my side. "Something tells me I'm not." I lean forward and place my hands on the back of the chair, lowering my voice so others in the café don't hear. "But I'll leave you with a bit of advice: next time you catch your wife with the same person you were fucking only weeks before, may I suggest you ask them if you could join in? May make things a little less complicated and confusing for the next time you catch them fucking in your backyard."

Mr. Wright's jaw drops, and his face turns an impossibly deeper shade of red. If it were possible, I'm positive steam would be shooting out of his ears at this point.

But I don't care.

I leave him and his half-eaten sandwich at the café as fast as my heels will carry me. Once I make it to the street, I begin walking the three blocks back to my office.

The sounds of the city are a welcome relief from the insufferable meeting I've just endured, but they don't calm the thoughts racing in my head.

I slide my phone out of my purse and call Roe. I haven't spoken to her since James Harding's funeral three days ago. After I caught Lennon in the courtyard, I didn't bother going back inside to join her and Frederick. I was too drunk, and the image of Lennon getting his cock sucked outside of his family mansion was burned in my memory. It swirled and danced with the same memories I have of him on my nineteenth birthday. The one he doesn't remember.

I snuck out of the funeral and hitched a ride from my uncle's driver before my sister or Frederick would notice me missing.

I shove my annoyance for Lennon Harding aside and tap the call button. It rings three times before going to my sister's voicemail.

"Roe," I groan, dragging out her name as I jog across the crosswalk. "I really wish you would pick up. You won't believe the client our uncle set me up with. I'm not going to lie, the lawsuit he was attempting to bring onto his wife could have been something written out of a novel." I pause and breathe a heavy sigh. I bite down on my bottom lip. "I'm sorry I haven't talked to you since the funeral. I don't know. Between turning down this client and the conversation Frederick had with us then, I just don't know what the hell I'm even doing anymore. I know our family isn't exactly in the best position right now, but I don't think that warrants me taking on any client who waltzes through our door. We need legitimate cases to reestablish our family name. You know what I mean? Anyway, I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry. I know I've rambled on too long for a voicemail, and you probably won't even listen this far into it, if even at all since you despise voicemails. I love you. Call me later."

I quickly hang up, knowing Roe will never listen to my message. She'd rather just call me back than sit there and sift through the twenty other messages she probably has sitting on her phone just to get to mine. I don't blame her. I hate voicemails too.