My paralegal pops her head through the doorway. “Sure thing, but you’ve got less than five minutes before the staff meeting starts and you know how your father is.”
A low growl crawls up my throat as I search for a paper on my desk that I could have sworn I placed here yesterday. “Oh, trust me. I’m aware.”
She winks in my direction. “Just wanted to offer the friendly reminder. And rumor around the office has it that he’s introducing the new front receptionist during the meeting.”
That bit of information makes my head pop up. “Really? He found someone already?”
“You know your dad. He wouldn’t let us go more than a few days with a vacant spot. Time is money, remember?”
“Trust me, that phrase haunts me in my sleep.”
Colby laughs and then juts her head toward her office. “Let me get that file for you and then we need to run over there.”
“Thank you.”
It’s a typical Monday morning at Thorne Family Law Group, everyone bustling about, trying to get their ducks in a row after the weekend, but today, I feel even more off-kilter. A few weeks ago, a woman got shot because of my actions in my job, and I can’t shake the feeling that there was something I could have done to prevent it.
This wasn’t just any woman, though. This was Rhonan’s neighbor turned girlfriend, who turns out, is also carrying his baby.
Vienna Lewis came to me last month, asking me to file divorce papers so she could finally leave her scumbag of an ex. She warned me of what he was capable of, but soon after he received the papers, he showed up in Blossom Peak and threatened her and Ellis’s life.
Ellis, Rhonan’s poor five-year-old daughter, is going to have to live with the memory of being kidnapped and held at gunpoint because I didn’t tell Rhonan that Vienna was in danger.
I couldn’t.
That damn attorney-client privilege kept my hands tied and my mouth shut, and now I’m just grateful that things didn’t turn out worse than they did.
Becoming a lawyer was the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do, but in the past few years, I feel like I’ve lost a spark for it. Of course, I think that’s largely in part from working for my father. When he first took over the practice, he kept things very similar to how my grandfather did. Then after a few years of me working for him, the gavel started to come down.
Less pro bono work. More billable hours.
Andworst of all, he’s limited my ability to donate my time to the community law council that my grandfather started to only one night a month because he wants to keep me as busy as possible. If I’m working for free, I can’t work after hours for the firm.
I used to go to Charlotte to volunteer once a week before Tori came into my life and then I was trying to recover. But time is money, as he famously says.
Seems money has gotten to his head even more than it did when I was a kid.
I glance at the clock on the computer and notice I have one minute to make it to the conference room or my father is going to serve my head on a platter for breakfast.
I grab my phone, slide it into the pocket of my slacks, and rush down the hall past other attorneys’ offices, sliding through the door seconds before my father does, his jet black hair slicked back, grays shining proudly at his temples.
Anyone who’s ever seen Henry Thorne II and me in the same room knows exactly whose son I am. My father and I are practically doppelgängers, except for the twenty-nine-year age difference, of course.
“Good morning,” my father bellows, commanding everyone’s attention, and the room quiets almost instantly. “Cheers to another week of keeping the wheels of justice turning!”
Echoes of agreement resonate through the room, but I fold my arms over my chest and fight the urge to roll my eyes. I think someone could record my father during these meetings at this point and just play the soundtrack on repeat and no one would know the difference.
“Well, I won’t keep you long this morning, seeing as how we’re all busy. But the biggest reason for our meeting today is to introduce the new front receptionist to you all.” His eyes meet mine and one of his eyebrows arches, causing my pulse to climb.
What the hell was that about?
“This face will be familiar to most of you since our new employee was around the office quite a bit last year. Due to some personal circumstances, which I won’t get into, she had to leave. But, now she’s back and eager to start fresh by helping to keep Thorne Family Law Group running like the well-oiled machine that it is.”
My heart is hammering in my chest violently as I prepare for whoever is about to walk through that door. But no amount of preparation could have made seeing the woman’s face again feel any less horrific.
“Please welcome Tori to the Thorne Family Law Group family.”
The silence in the room feels deafening as everything plays out in slow motion. People greet her, some with cautious smiles, a few with half-hearted hugs, and my father places his hand on her shoulder in support. Meanwhile, I’m frozen in place, wondering if time has stood still or if I’m dreaming. My pulse is pounding in my ears and a sharp sound buzzes through my head, the kind that hits right before you pass the fuck out.