He’d heard of André’s powerful negotiating skills but never thought he’d be on the receiving end. “Spencer, in all the years I’ve known you, what I’ve admired most about you is your uncanny ability to adapt to whatever needs to get done. I’ve seen you run fashion shows, store events, and parties, all while styling clients who never look anything less than perfect. We would be getting the better end of this deal. You’re sharp as hell, yet kind and considerate.”
It was hard for him to reconcile the lonely, bullied kid he once was, a child who’d given his innocence away because he had no other outlet for his love, with the man people looked up to and wanted. No matter his accomplishments, he always believed he was lacking, but maybe he was wrong. He found himself hugged by Chess.
“I know what you’re thinking, but you’re such a special, amazing person. You have no idea how much you helped me before the wedding, getting me to see things clearly. You deserve this. You’ve earned it.”
Through watery eyes, he smiled at Bianca. “I have to talk to Christo first, but I would love to work with you. Did you say I’d have a team?”
“Of course. An assistant and people you trust to bounce ideas off.”
Matty would be perfect if he was willing. Ideas ran through his head—Sunday morning fashion-show brunches, exclusive designs-to-Webster accessories…so much to think about.
“Thank you for trusting me. I know this is a huge step for Webster, so I want to make sure I do it right.”
“We have faith in you, Spence.” André folded his arms. “I wouldn’t have suggested it to Bianca unless I believed you could do it. You all know I go with my intuition, my gut. It worked with Chess, and I have that same feeling about you coming to work for us. And once I want something, I don’t stop until I get it.”
André’s smile was reserved for Chess, but Spencer was busy thinking about something else—he had one place to go before meeting with Christo, and it was a journey he had to take on his own.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Much as he hated letting someone like Kemp plead out, Wolf knew his duty was to his client, but even more so to the people who might be saved if Kemp gave them the vital information they needed. So he sat down with the Brooklyn ADA, Jamal Brown, to work through a possible plea deal.
“What are you looking for, Wolf? If we’re going to offer him a plea deal, he’s gonna have to give us more than a couple of names and dates.”
Wolf made a face. “I know. I’m going up there today to try and pound some sense into his head.”
“You think he’s holding out on you? I know you were pissed when he lied to you. Judge Rafferty is a bastard, though. I figured he wouldn’t let you off the case unless it was life or death.”
“I hate dealing with scumbags like Kemp. You know that.”
Sympathy creased Jamal’s brow. “It doesn’t make me feel any better either. But you know how it goes. Do our time on one side of the courtroom so we know what to expect when we leave and go to the other.” He hesitated, and Wolf braced himself. “I saw the news last night.”
“Yeah? Looks like it’s going to cool down for the rest of the week.”
Jamal chewed his lip. “I’m sorry, Wolf. I didn’t know what to do, whether I should ignore it or say something…”
Wolf raised a shoulder almost negligently. “Not your fault. I had to expect this sooner or later. Though getting bombarded by reporters wasn’t top of my list.”
“I can’t imagine. And I also can’t imagine how terrible it must’ve been for you when it was all happening.”
“No. You can’t. Let’s just say it was a time in my life I wish I could forget but never will.”
“How could you? Being the child of one of the state’s most infamous criminals?” Wolf winced, and Jamal cursed. “Shit. See? I’m sorry. I knew I’d fuck it up. But I hated seeing you ambushed. Although your friend certainly had your back. He gave it to that New York One reporter.”
“Spencer has a way with words.”
“I admire you. I just wanted you to know that. You could’ve let it screw up your head, but instead you took what he did and turned it around to make something good. Now your incredible dedication to helping the people you do all makes sense.”
“It’s not much, but whatever I can do, I will. Which is why having Kemp actually involved and having knowledge about the crimes being committed there burns my blood.”
“Gotta play in the dirt sometimes. Come to me with some info that will put these bums away for good, and I’ll make sure Kemp gets a deal.”
On his ride upstate to the prison to see Billy Kemp, Wolf should’ve been thinking about what he was going to say to his client. Instead, he closed his eyes and replayed the news segment they’d shown of his father’s trial, complete with an excruciating blow-by-blow breakdown of every crime he’d been charged with. And after that, they mentioned his mother’s suicide, with him as a throwaway one-liner, as if he didn’t matter at all.
For the first few years after the trial, he’d avoided the newspapers and reports, but it popped up one night when he was sitting home on a weekend alone, watching television. After that he would take the train into the city so no one would notice him, and visit the public library, where he would spend the day reading the newspaper reports. If the librarians thought it strange for a young boy to be so enthralled with the case, they never said.
Having it all thrown in his face again the previous evening brought those days of self-loathing to the forefront, and he wished he could’ve smashed the reporters’ cameras to the ground, but that would’ve only played into their narrative.
Instead, Spencer had stepped up for him, taking over, and Wolf had never been more grateful for anyone in his life.
