Initially, the career plan she’d meticulously mapped had played out perfectly. Next step should have been partner. But her calculations had failed to allow for nepotism.
Tien tapped on the wall outside her office, although her door was still open. ‘Sorry, Jemma.’ He panted, his magnified eyes huge with over-concern. ‘The file isn’t down there.’
She snorted. ‘The … jerk.’ Tien never swore. ‘Doesn’t matter; most of the info will be in the electronic file, anyway.’
She slid into the seat behind her desk, took her laptop from her briefcase and opened it. Her office was all white leather, Rohan’s black. It was typical of Gerard to dare make such an obvious feminine–masculine distinction.
Tien perched on the timber arm of the scooped chair opposite as Jemma tapped her keyboard. Her fingers froze. ‘Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!’ She turned the laptop so he could see the screen. ‘I’m locked out of the bloody file.’
Tien adjusted his glasses, squinting at the screen. ‘Gerard’s pulled you from the case?’
‘In Rohan’s dreams. That bastard’s made off with the physical file and changed the access code on this one.’ Bugger the not-swearing. She waited a beat, though there was little chance Tien would make the link between Rohan’s actions and the upcoming partnership. Her friend had no aspirations to progress further than being a solicitor and wasn’t invested in office politics.
She took pity on him. ‘I’ve got Wilkins coming in this morning. If I don’t have the prep for the meeting, I’ll look incompetent and Rohan wins.’
‘Wins?’
‘The client will want me off the case and Rohan gets it to himself.’
Tien stood as a discreet electronic tone alerted them that one of the other staff members had entered from the street. ‘Would that be so bad? The case is messy. Chances are Wilkins did smack his wife around. She didn’t get those bruises in a pole-dancing class.’
Tien didn’t know the half of it. Safe in his lawyer–client privilege during their initial meeting a month earlier, Mark Wilkins had gloatingly added hints of arms importation, intimidation and extortion to his extensive résumé. ‘It’s potentially the most lucrative case we’ve had on the books for the past two years.’
‘But you could use those hours toward your pro bono cases,’ Tien suggested.
Jemma pulled a face. Gerard was chasing lucrative government contracts, but for the firm to be in consideration, each lawyer had to do a number of hours of work for free. ‘You realise the pro bono Gerard has on the books is a case for some animal rights activists?’
Tien lifted one shoulder.
‘Hours spent listening to greenies whining about wanting facon on their plate and bacon in their gardens? No, thanks.’ Though she felt a little guilty. Like anyone else, Jemma avoided videos of animal mistreatment on her social media feed. There was no point getting involved in a losing battle that generated neither income nor reputation.
‘Got to do those hours somewhere,’ Tien pointed out. ‘Let Rohan take the Wilkins case; he’s short on both ethics and morals.’
Jemma ignored the implied judgement of her own scruples. No one understood what she had to prove, and she wasn’t about to make herself vulnerable by explaining. ‘Rohan would love that. It’d be another gold star from his uncle for him, and another step away from me making partner.’
Frustrated, she spun from the chair, trying to burn off nervous energy—and coffee. She seized her coat, which she’d thrown over a corner of the desk in her eagerness to get to work. As she hung it on the stand in the corner behind Tien, the folded paper fell from the pocket.
Tien picked it up and offered it to her, but she recoiled.
‘Bin it,’ she snapped.
Tien frowned. The sensitivity that would render him ineffective in court enabled him to read her moods. ‘What is it?’
‘Rubbish. Take a look.’
Tien unfolded the paper. Took a moment to digest the contents. ‘Have you reported this to the police?’
She shrugged, forcing a nonchalance she didn’t truly feel. ‘It’s a prank.’
‘It came through the mail here?’ He pointed toward the office reception area.
‘My place.’
‘That’s so much worse. They know where you live.’
‘God, could you be more dramatic?’ she scoffed. Tien had been the wrong person to confide in. ‘It’s probably just kids.’
‘Or some whack job who’s discovered your details on the electoral roll.’
