“Rana. We don’t need to ever discuss that man or my behavior that night again.”
“It’s not like you killed someone, Aricia. I know it’s not like you but… I don’t want you to give up on love because of Kennard. If someone like you can’t find love, what hope do I have?”
“Rana, you are at least ten years younger than me. At the very least you have time and a lack of back pain on your side.”
“Yeah, but the men inyourgeneration aren’t completely brain broken from dating apps and a constant stream of ass pics on Instagram.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” I grumble. I’m in no position to date right now. Didn’t she just say we had a new client? I won’t be the lead on the case but if it’s a big enough client that they’re dropping anextra$500,000, meeting them would be the best business etiquette.
“Okay. Fine. But if you bury your head in work, you don’t even know the next time you’re going to see a hot guy. At least introduce yourself.”
“Rana?”
“Yes,” she grins at me, knowing that she’s testing my last nerve with this talk about ourallegedlyhot client.
“What time is that meeting, again?”
“3:30 p.m.”
“What doyouhave to do today?”
“Um… Whatever you want me to do?”
“Interesting.”
“When you weren’t here, I waswaytoo productive.”
“Probably because we weren’t having chats like this everyday…”
“Send over any files you need me to work on and I’ll set up a tagging system for the emails. Oh, and I’ll reschedule your monthly check in with the car dealership guy for next week.”
“Thank you, Rana.”
She might have that excessive exuberance that young people have, but she’s a good person deep down. I know she kepteverythingshe saw at my house to herself and since Kennard died, she’s been nothing but supportive of me. I helped Rana out early in her career and she’s never caused me to question her gratitude for that.
Even with Rana taking the most boring parts of my day off my plate, my eyes feel glued to my computer screen in a way that burns behind my eyes and makes me wonder if I have enough money in the bank to take early retirement. I’ve been through some shit… maybe I should consider it.
Precisely ten minutes before that meeting, Rana shows up to walk with me to the elevator so we can ride down to the third floor together.
“Just so you know, I’m only meeting this client because they’re a high roller. It has nothing to do with your allegations about his or her appearance.”
“Hisappearance. And he’s Italian, in case you had a type.”
I give Rana a side-eye that she completely ignores because she knows exactly what she was doing with that sneaky comment. I reassure her quickly.
“My type is… being single for the rest of my life.”
Rana snickers. “Okay.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
We ride the elevator down to the third floor. The doors swing open and I cansmellthe money in the room. You would think that running this law firm for most of the past decade would have adjusted my tastes accordingly. In some ways, Ihavechanged. In other ways, I still feel dangerously out of place when everybody in a room is wealthy. I clawed my way from the bottom up and… I have to remind myself that I belong here.
Rana and I walk down the glass hallways towards the waiting room, and I nearly faint when I see the man sitting there dressed in a tailored suit like most clients when they’re coming to meet with their defense attorney.It isn’t him.
The man sitting there almost resembles Peter. The man I slept with. Relief floods through me when I realize that I was wrong, but the feeling doesn’t last. Rana greets our client, who introduces himself asGiovanni Taviani… but you can call me Gino.
