Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“If you stopped checking in on my progress every few hours, I’d have more time to put together my plan.”
He nods and continues pacing, looking a little less formidable than usual.
Over the past few days, I’ve worked slower than I usually do, and far less than I normally would, because I can’t seem to force myself to give a damn about the work.
My usual “balance the scales for the guilty,” “fuck over the justice system like it fucked me,” and “serves Lady Justice right” mantras aren’t working.
And every time I try to string together Lucas’s defense, an image of Scarlett’s teary eyes crosses my mind. Either that, or her final words to me overpower my best arguments.
“He’s probably done much worse, and only one of us can actually do something about it.”
“Maybe I’m misremembering your speed from my previous cases.” Lucas’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts. “I just feel like you’d tie things up within hours back then.”
“None of your previous cases had federal charges,” I say. “Not only that, but—” I pause as he puffs a long “O” toward my desk.
“Okay, look.” I shut my laptop. “I’m tired of telling you ‘No Smoking’ in my condo. Put that shit out.”
“I think I’m paying you enough for an exception.” He takes another puff. “But if you ask me nicely, I’ll consider it.”
“Okay. I’ll do that.” I stand and walk toward him, pluck the cigar from his fingers, and toss it into a glass of water.
“Do you understand what ‘no smoking’ in my condo means now?” I ask nicely. “Is that better?”
He rolls his eyes.
“I would’ve paid whatever it costs to clean it up,” he says. “That’s what I always do at hotels.”
“Does this look like a hotel?”
“No, but…” He tilts his head to the side. “You’re the one who said I could stay here for the weekend while your team worked on getting me a hidden place outside the city. If you’re going to be pissy about my habits, why would you ever offer that to me?”
To give Rachel extra time to sneak around your estate.
“You’re right,” I say. “My apologies.”
“So I can smoke now?”
“No.” I walk toward my liquor cabinet. “You should probably look into ways to quit. That shit can kill you.”
“Ahhh.” He smiles. “Let me guess. Someone in your family died of lung cancer?”
“No, but you’re on track to.” I pour two shots of whiskey. “No offense.”
“Alcohol isn’t much better, Jameson,” he counters. “I’ve witnessed you knock back quite a few of these every night. How do those help you?”
They help me stop thinking about your daughter.
“You can smoke,” I say, not needing to think about Scarlett right now. “But can you take it outside to the landing or the fucking roof?”
“Will do.” He nods. “Can I ask you something slightly personal?”
No.
“Maybe.”
“I’ve been doing some thinking about what you said the other day,” he says. “How we need to put together a character witness list of people who can say good things about me.”
I arch a brow, unsure where he’s going with this. Outside of the charity heads he’s given to—only to make himself look good—and a few terrified employees, we don’t have many people to consider.
“Well, what if we go with a different approach?”
“I’m listening.”
“What if we just let people say all their terrible things about me?”
“That’s literally what the feds are going to do.”
“No, but I mean…” He takes one of the shot glasses from me and knocks it back. “After we let them spew whatever hateful things they’re going to say, you counter them with all the things I’ve done for them. Show everyone how ungrateful they are. How I’m actually a good guy.”
I blink.
“It’ll make them look like hypocrites, and the jurors may have to reconsider the feds painting me as some monstrous psychopath.”
You ARE a monstrous psychopath.
“Even if I was willing to do that,” I say, “and I’m not, who the hell would you want me to call?”
“My wife, for one,” he says. “Well, soon-to-be ex-wife. You’re handling the divorce for me as well, right?”
“No,” I say. “Hamilton & Associates is your best bet for that.”
“That’s who she’s using.” He crosses his arms. “Why can’t you handle it?”
“Huge conflict of interest,” I say. “Who else besides your ex-wife?”
“My daughter.” He smiles. “Have her ass up there telling all types of boogeyman stories, then hit her with a hammer.”
“Metaphorically, you mean.”
“Only if I can’t find a way to physically do it before trial.” He laughs, but I don’t join him.
“I’m joking, Jameson.”
“I didn’t hear the punchline.”
“Fine.” He holds up his hands in fake surrender. “After she lies about how hard of a life she’s had, you reveal just how privileged she’s been. How she’s always received the best of the best, and how she only has it out for me because she never wanted to work in the family business.”