Blake, seeing my silence, turned to my assistant standing behind me. "What's going on? How's Julian's case progressing?"
My assistant was fresh out of law school. Blake's stare made her squirm. She stammered, "The opposing counsel... they filed a motion challenging our evidence."
"Oh?" Blake raised his eyebrows dramatically. "Julian, didn't you say you had solid evidence? How'd you lose so fast? What a shame!"
The clients exchanged glances, their expressions souring.
Blake shook his head and swept off with his clients, leaving his words echoing in my skull.
My fists clenched. This wasn't what I wanted. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. I was a lawyer. The law was my weapon. I should've been able to beat that bastard.
But I'd failed.
I trudged toward the break room. I needed coffee. The rest oftoday's work wasn't going anywhere. My footsteps were heavy. Before I reached the door, I heard voices inside.
"...pathetic, really." Jenkins's voice, dripping with scorn. "How did he think he could take on Thorne Group? I heard they've got mob connections. Who does Julian think he is?"
"Showing off for a woman, obviously." Another voice—the balding colleague. Dismissive.
Jenkins laughed. "Julian let some girl scramble his brains. Thorne Group sent one lawyer and crushed him."
The balding colleague's tone turned sycophantic. "You've got it figured out. We'll just watch him crash and burn."
I stood outside, blood pounding in my temples. These people had been smiling and flattering me three days ago. The second I failed, they showed their true faces. I turned and left, forcing myself back to my desk and the pile of work I'd neglected.
Finally, quitting time. I fled to a bar.
The lighting was dim, jazz drifting lazily through the air. No one here knew me. No one knew I'd failed. One drink after another. I lost count. Lost track of what I was drinking. The burn had gone numb, just like my heart.
"Another." I slammed the glass on the bar.
The bartender glanced at me, said nothing, and mixed me another.
I couldn't call Anthea. Couldn't tell her I'd failed. If she knew I couldn't even lay a finger on that asshole, what would see in her eyes? Disappointment? Contempt?
"Drinking alone?" A sultry voice drifted over with heavy perfume. "Mind if I sit here?"
I turned. A woman stood beside me. Pale blue dress, blonde hair cascading over her shoulders.
Anthea? I blinked, trying to focus. No. Not Anthea. This woman's eyes were brown. Her face sharper, more aggressive.
The alcohol blurred my vision. My voice came out slurred. "Sure."
She sat, ordered red wine. Under the lights, her profile was stunning, a strand of blonde hair falling across her cheek. For a second, I saw Anthea sitting here with me instead...
"You look upset." She sipped her wine, lips glossy. "Work?"
I swallowed reflexively. Heat surged in my chest.
"How'd you know?" I asked without thinking.
"Your suit's tailored, but your tie's loose and your cufflinks are undone." She smiled. "A man this put-together doesn't fall apart unless it's work or a woman."
I gave a bitter smile. "Both."
"Want to talk?" Her voice was lazy, soft. "Sometimes strangers are easier than friends."
I didn't know if it was the alcohol or what, but I started talking. About the case. My failure. Anthea.
