Pride & Precedents (The Park Brothers #2)

2. Henry

Chapter two

Henry

Present Day

"Ms. Sanchez! Do you have a moment?" I shout through my cracked office door. There's no point in bothering with the intercom when 80% of the office has already gone home. Mere seconds later, Ms. Sanchez— Camila to the rest of the office—strides through my door with a look on her face that indicates she's thrilled to be summoned at this hour. Her generous hips are cocked against an armchair in my office's seating area, her full lips are pursed, and she taps her emerald green gel pen against the legal pad in her arms impatiently. She is the very picture of irritated.

As one of the best paralegals in the firm, she's earned the occasional attitude. Every other department would snatch her up in a heartbeat if I made the mistake of letting her go. I basically stole her from Jonathan when she filled in for Vanessa, my last paralegal, all those years ago.

Vanessa was perfectly fine. She got the job done exactly as I asked, and no further. It wasn't as overt as malicious compliance , she just… She never went the extra mile to show me she actually cared about the work we do in Divorce, one of the most lucrative departments at Bannister, Banks, Smith it may be the first time I've come up for air since my three o'clock meeting. I pace a few steps, then settle against the edge of my desk with my arms folded.

"At lunch today, Mr. Bannister," one of the firm's two founding partners, "gave me a heads up that they're bringing in a potential VIP client that I have to woo at a 9:00am 'meet and greet' tomorrow. That gives us less than twelve hours to create full dossiers on the couple, though Bannister's office already ran a full background check. The wife is apparently a lawyer too and just relocated from San Francisco for a job in the city, so we have to ensure all of our work can pass white glove inspection. There can't be any shortcuts with this one."

As if either of us would ever take shortcuts. The whole time I've been speaking, Camila's been taking detailed notes, giving me her full attention.

"If she's a lawyer, I'm assuming she has a colleague who could handle this rather than take us up on retainer?"

A very common practice. Once again, she proves to be the perfect paralegal. I barely control the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"Apparently her counsel is close with the husband and she didn't trust that he would be impartial. Then, with the job offer and relocation, she needed counsel based in New York." Camila pauses writing and raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

"You've said twice that she relocated. Did the husband stay behind?" My mouth gives up and lifts into a tiny smirk.

"Apparently, he's months away from an IPO, which means he's tied to his company and San Francisco until those shares drop." Camila stops writing abruptly and her mouth drops open.

"She's filing for divorce during the run-up to an IPO? That is cold-blooded."

Cold-blooded and a potential handicap in whatever settlement we can reach, but we'll know more when we learn how he contributed to the petition to divorce.

"We won't know how big a problem that is until we get more details on the marital situation." I move back around my desk and take a seat, my cue that the conversation is over. Camila takes the hint and flips down the pages on her pad. On her way out, she stops suddenly.

"Wait a minute! What are the names of these VIPs?"

I don't bother looking up from my now open browser. "Mr. Bannister didn't want to risk getting into details while out at lunch, since the news of the divorce filing isn't yet public. Can you stop by his office and get the names from his paralegal before you get started? I'll be meeting my car in the next thirty minutes, but, as always, I'm reachable. I'll expect the dossiers in my inbox by 7:00am tomorrow morning." She nods.

"On it." With a slight sway of her hips, she turns on her sensible heels and heads out of my office, closing the door behind her.

Though capable, fashionable, she is not . I've never seen her in heels higher than two inches, her skirt suits are clearly cheap,—it'd likely take ten to match the price of just one of my suits—and she never bothers much with makeup or fussy hairstyles. Even with all that, she's not unattractive, but her wardrobe is the one area where I wouldn't mind some improvement.

Not that she's an extension of me, but a paralegal could be a reflection of me. What does it say to the opposing party, to potential clients, that my paralegal is so…dowdy? Especially taking into account how sharply I dress,—my body touches nothing but Brooks Brothers, Brioni, Brunello Cucinelli, and Zegna—the difference is striking. Her cheap clothes, lack of makeup, and general frumpiness don't violate our firm's dress code, however, and I'm not about to risk a discrimination lawsuit making unsolicited comments on a female employee's appearance.

My phone buzzes next to my keyboard.

Murray

Your car is out front, sir.

Murray's been my driver ever since I made the move out of the city. He's demonstrated outstanding professionalism since Day 1. He doesn't chatter needlessly during the drive, he knows when to raise the privacy screen without me even having to ask, and he's perpetually five minutes early.

I grab my suit jacket from the back of my chair and put it on, tuck my crucial papers into my briefcase and snap it shut, turn off my desk and office lights, and finally lock the door behind me. I trust Camila will have the requested documentation ready in time for my review tomorrow morning.