Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
He pulls back slowly, then dips in on impulse to press one last soft kiss against the corner of my mouth.
My heart is racing when he lets me go.
“I’ll be waiting for you out here,” he tells me.
My nerves are a scrambled mess, but I manage a wordless nod.
The receptionist is waiting with a kind smile to escort me back to the lawyer’s office. I’m glad because I’m so out of sorts that I may not have found it on my own even though it’s straight down the hall.
“He’s sweet with you,” she remarks. “It’s surprising. I never thought he was sweet.”
“Neither did I,” I murmur, before remembering that I need to stop being honest. “Wait,” I say, my steps slowing. “Can I have just a second?”
“Of course.” She was reaching for the door to open it, but she stops, her hand dropping, and gives me a moment.
Tor prepared me for this as best he could, but he can’t be in the room with me. I have to handle this part of it myself, and I can’t do that if my mind is splintered in a million directions.
I force my mind to slow down. I take a deep breath in and then release it. Once I’ve done it three more times, I feel more in control.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I tell her.
She flashes me an encouraging smile, then opens the door and gestures for me to step inside.
Dread settles like a lead weight in my legs, but I manage to walk into the office. To the left is a wall of glass overlooking the street. The one I stopped driving down to avoid even proximity to this building, to this man.
He rises from the seat behind his desk, gesturing to the upholstered leather chair on the other side of it. “Have a seat, Cassie.”
He sits back down.
I walk around the chair and awkwardly take a seat near the edge.
“Get comfortable,” he tells me with a measured, polite smile. “We’re going to be here for a while.”
“Goody,” I murmur, leaning down to drop my purse on the floor.
“Yeah, I know. Murder is an inconvenient thing for all of us.”
I keep my lips sealed.
“To begin with, I need to tell you I am not presently representing you. This meeting is to see if I can represent you. Obviously, there are many complications and outright conflicts of interest. Under ordinary circumstances, there’s no way I would represent you, but Tor has made his stance clear. I know he wants me to represent you, but do you?”
I sigh quietly. “I don’t want to go to prison.”
“Should you?”
“People don’t always end up where they should,” I point out, holding his gaze.
His eyebrows rise, a knowing glint in his dark eyes. “Ah, but sometimes they do, don’t they?”
I cross my arms and lean back in the chair.
He doesn’t press. “If I represent you, you’ll have to sign a waiver acknowledging the conflicts of interest. I will, of course, represent you to the best of my ability, but loyalty is a crucial component of the relationship between a client and myself, and—”
“I know your loyalty is to him. We’re on the same side this time, so it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re on the same side right now,” he says flatly.
“It won’t change,” I assure him.
“You may think that now, but—”
“It won’t change,” I repeat firmly.
He holds eye contact for a measured pause, but I don’t break it. He goes on. “There are other conflicts. I previously represented Timothy Walters in a case where you were the complainant.”
“Victim,” I correct.
He maintains eye contact despite knowing he’s about to be an asshole. “Complainant,” he repeats evenly. “Legally.”
I fight the urge to glare at him.
“That prior representation creates a conflict. Even though my former client is dead, he is still entitled to confidentiality. That means there may be things I know about that previous case that I cannot use, even if it would help you. I cannot share those details with you, even if you’re my client now.”
Frowning, I stare at him wordlessly.
“If you choose to sign the waiver, you may revoke your consent at any time should you change your mind. You may also terminate representation at any time. Before we can even think about crossing that bridge, though, we need to talk about what happened last night. I need to get your version of events and see how it lines up with Tor’s. If there are significant discrepancies between your testimonies, then I cannot represent you.”
I nod my understanding.
“Tell me what happened last night, in your own words.”
“It was a long night,” I say. “A lot happened.”
“Start at the beginning. What time did you go over to the lake house?”
“I’m not sure.”
“That’s a bad answer.”
“I understand that, but… I really don’t know.”
“Did you and Torrance text or call each other to arrange this meeting?”