“I don’t think so,” I say firmly, “I know. You’re not a danger, and you’re an involved, good mother. I will make the court see that. I’ve won some of these kinds of cases already. Precedent is on our side.”
Tears spill down her cheeks, despite her effort to hold them back. She ducks her head, hiding her face behind her hands.
I circle the desk and crouch beside her chair, balancing with ease on my heels. Thank years of ballet class for small favors. Normally, I don’t blur the lines with clients, but with omegas, I’m different. They’re touch-starved in a way mostpeople can’t imagine. But I can. Vividly. I grip her hands with mine.
“You aren’t alone in this fight, Maya. Not anymore.”
She exhales a choked laugh and squeezes my fingers before throwing herself into a hug and wrapping her arms around me. “Thank you. I never dreamed you’d actually help me. A lady at my church saw you on NYTV, then saw in the paper about you helping omegas, and she told me to email your office.”
“You’d be surprised how often that happens,” I say, laughing. “I really should send the mayor a thank-you basket. Best publicity I could have asked for, even if he hates me.” I straighten and smooth my skirt. “This is why I do what I do. Criminal cases pay the bills so I can take on pro bono work for omegas and fight to improve your rights. The system is stacked against you, and I want to change that.”
When she leaves, Shelby leans against my office doorframe, arms crossed, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
When I first started at the firm, she was the paralegal assigned to one of my cases. It only took about a week for me to realize I needed her permanently. Her official title is executive assistant, but in practice, she runs half my life. There would be no viper without Shelby quietly keeping everything on track so I can focus on doing my job. I pay her a small fortune in gratitude and out of a keen sense of self-preservation.
Her dark hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail, thick curtain bangs framing her oversized, white-rimmed glasses. Shelby’swork wardrobe falls into what I have lovingly labeled as librarian chic, but my expensive tastes have rubbed off on her in the way of luxury shoes. Much to her husband Ron’s eternal irritation, she now owns nearly as many designer heels as I do, and that’s saying something.
Today is no exception. A kelly green pair of Manolos peeks out from beneath her wide-leg pants, white crisscross straps with delicate green leaves lacing over her foot.
“Ooh, those are new. I like,” I say, pointing.
“Thanks. You should. They were your birthday present to me,” she replies, grinning.
I shoot her an unimpressed look. “I can buy you gifts without your direct guidance, you know.”
“Oh, I know. But you were very clear last week, when I took over combing through all those phone records for the Smith case, that I could buy myself whatever I wanted as a thank you,” she says with a laugh.
I scrunch my nose. “Oh. Right. Well, happy birthday. I have fabulous taste, so you’re welcome. What was with the smile when you walked in?”
“Only that you’re such a softie with the omegas.”
“Shelby,” I remind her dryly, “weare omegas.”
Besides running my calendar, my caseload, and most of my sanity, Shelby is also one of only seven peoplein the world who knows my secret.
“Yes,” she says, rolling her eyes, “but no one else is aware of that. And your reputation is certainly not one that anyone would describe assoft.”
“I’m well-known for defending omegas,” I reply flippantly, slightly uncomfortable.
“Yes, but not for hugging them and drying their tears,” she counters. “I’m just saying it might be nice if the world got to see more of that side of Ava Kendrick. Perhaps a certain eligible district attorney…” She trails off, widening her eyes and pointedly pursing her lips.
I glare at her. “Be serious. I can list at least five reasons off the top of my head why that is a terrible idea. The first being that I hate him.”
Shelby snorts. “Well, that’s a lie, so try again.”
“One, it’s not. But two,” I say ticking reasons off on my fingers, “how about the New York Bar Association having a meltdown over the massive conflict of interest? And three, I can’t be with an alpha. You know that.”
“That’s three, not five.” She waves a hand dismissively and comes to collect Maya’s file off my desk. “I started working on a dossier of judges we’re likely to see in her family court circuit. I’ll have it for you tomorrow. Do you want me to have Tony dig into the husband?”
Tony isn’t only my driver. Thanks to his less-than-squeaky-clean past, he has contacts throughout the city. The dirt he digs up on people, I’m not even sure they’re aware of.
“Yes, please. And remind him I need to be picked up tonight by 7:00 for the gala. Did the jeweler drop off the earrings? I hate borrowing pieces; I’m always terrified something will happen to them.”
“Yes,” she says. “And they were thrilled at the chance to have one of their custom pieces photographed on you. They even sent some reinforced backs. I’m not convinced we won’t need tools to get the damn things off you. Have you eaten?”
“Not lunch yet, but I had a decent breakfast,” I say, rubbing my temples. “I could go for egg drop soup from the place on the corner, though. And more caffeine.”
“You need somewater,” she stresses as she heads back toward the door.
