Pride & Precedents (The Park Brothers #2)

23. Henry

Chapter twenty-three

Henry

S ince getting my bar card ten years ago, I've operated by a rigid set of rules.

Tardiness is unacceptable. Proper titles and formal greetings are a sign of respect. Wrinkles, stains, and messiness of any kind have no place in the office. No personal calls at the office. One month's notice is required for any time off from work. No romance in the workplace, whether with clients or colleagues. No heating seafood up in the office microwave.

Today, I've broken nearly all of them.

Yesterday, after Camila left, I met with Mr. Banks and told him about Naomi's inappropriate remarks and behavior in our last two meetings.

"I'm sorry you were put in that position, Henry," he'd said, no hint of sympathy on his face, "but I'm also surprised you weren't able to find an alternative to stepping down. The VIP rates are supposed to buy them a bit more leeway."

To say Mr. Banks was upset when I removed myself from the Watanabe-Moore case would be a gross understatement. If he'd been a cartoon, smoke would have been coming out of his ears. I may be a partner, but as the latest addition to the firm's nameplate, I am not invincible.

"Ms. Watanabe came to us specifically for the P in BBS I even called her from work ( No personal calls at the office.) . How could she just leave? Personal issues aside, she knows I have a hard time clicking with my paralegals. I certainly don't vibe with my current temp, Rick.

Rick is Mr. Banks's nephew and another punishment for "the Watanabe incident" as people around the office have started calling it. He showed up in a polo shirt rather than a suit (!), dropped a call from a judge I'd been waiting for all week after what was obviously a three-martini lunch, and then he insisted on leaving early to meet his fraternity brothers for a game of squash. He's terrible. What am I going to do, though? Mr. Banks has already chewed me out; I can't now complain that his nephew's a moron.

Even now, passing his desk— Camila's desk—I can see he's got Solitaire open instead of the most recent deposition. God, I might actually beg Camila to come back. Things just don't run without her. At the office, at least.

Your life doesn't run without her , an annoying voice whispers from somewhere in the back of my head. Shut up, disembodied voice! I've got a new client to woo . I take a deep breath—something I never used to need to summon Sub Zero—as I reach the conference room and push the door open.

Decked out in what I can only assume is a Diane Von Furstenburg (her latest campaign) abstract print dress, Kendra Gray is stunning. The vibrant colors of the fabric, the golden notes of her skin, and the fullness of her hips visible even in her seat remind me of Camila. That's the only explanation I have for what comes next.

"Kendra!" I call out with my hand outstretched. I paste a smile on my face, hoping to cover the faux pas of addressing her so informally ( Proper titles and formal greetings are a sign of respect. ). I mentally kick myself and try again.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Gray. I'm a big fan of your work."

I'm not. I'd never even heard of her until yesterday afternoon, but she looked lovely in the DVF runway footage I reviewed with the rest of the documentation last night.

She quirks her eyebrow, the ghost of a smile on her fuchsia lips. I can guess what she's thinking. "This guy is a partner? He's got the professionalism of a first year law clerk." After a few awkward moments, she shakes my still outstretched hand with a manicured one of her own.

"I'm glad you finally decided to join me for our meeting, Henry ," she says, emphasizing her use of my first name. "Do you make a habit of keeping potential clients waiting?"

I wince while shuffling the papers in my briefcase, and my smile turns apologetic.

"Please accept my apologies, Ms. Gray. I hope you won't take this as a reflection of BBS&P."

I take out the last of my files and face her. She still looks a bit ruffled, recrossing her legs to the other side, but she nods for me to continue.

"From what I can tell," I begin, trying my best to salvage what's left of my usual decorum, "this case is fairly straightforward. TMZ captured pictures of Mr. Andre Gibbs entering his hotel room in St. Maarten while kissing his backup singer, Ms. Julie Baker. No judge will require a trial for a case with such clear-cut evidence."

Kendra sighs and drums her nails on the table.

"Well," I can hear the irritation in her voice, "that would be the case except for the ironclad prenup I sent to your office this morning. Didn't you receive it? I spoke to a Mr. Rick Banks."

Partner's nephew or not, I am going to fucking kill that little shit. I shuffle my papers again, attempting to hide my surprise. Finding out new information when it's too late to do anything about it is the bane of every lawyer's existence. That's why we have whole teams of clerks, interns, junior associates, and, of course, paralegals working around the clock to ensure we know everything there is to know. Ms. Gray places her hand on the papers to stop my nervous rustling.

"Mr. Park, look. I don't know much about you—you were a recommendation from my agent—but I must say I'm surprised. I wouldn't guess a partner at BBS&P who's won 95% of his cases would show up late looking like he jogged several blocks to get here. Either you're an imposter and I'm being pranked, or you're having one of the worst days of your professional career."

"Bingo," I mutter.

"Care to get it out in the open so we can get this show on the road? I have a fitting downtown in two hours."

There is no universe where a lawyer would treat a potential client, especially a VIP, like some sort of pop psychologist to solve his personal problems. But she did ask , and I've already made a terrible first impression. Maybe it's time to retire Sub Zero and actually be myself.

She sees I'm conflicted and her face softens slightly.

"I know you don't know me from Adam, and that talking about whatever is bothering you must be extremely unusual, especially with a potential client. But I'm also a human. Let's hear it."

To my great surprise, I open my mouth and tell her all about my brother "Harold". How he's struggling to work with an old flame. How his long-time assistant is becoming something more. All about "Harold" and his assistant's beautiful night together. How he might lose her if he isn't honest about their relationship with his "managers.

It was unforgivably unprofessional, and I doubt she bought it was about "Harold" for a second, but it felt…good to actually talk about it. To lighten the load of everything that's happened by sharing it with someone. Usually, that "someone" would be Noah.

"I can tell Harold 's in love with Mina just from the way he talks about her," she says, a genuine smile on her face for the first time since the meeting started. Tension bunches my shoulders.

"'Love' is a strong word, Ms. Gray. I said he has feelings for her." Kendra rolls her eyes. "Anyway, now it's all messed up. She walked out, and she hasn't been answering his calls or texts."

God, I sound like I'm back in high school again. Kendra smiles even bigger.

"It sounds to me like she's looking for a grand gesture. To go from being his assistant to his…" she searches for your word, "…uh, fuck buddy, is one thing. I know firsthand that it can be fun to sneak around with someone at work. The secrets make it hotter." She sits back in her chair, thoughtful.

"But I also know firsthand how tough it can be to move from fuck buddies to more with someone at work. And if she's plus-sized like me, keeping things a secret might come across as being ashamed of her."

"First off," I protest, "I don't think Harold would call her an…F buddy."

As if saying "fuck" would make this conversation any more inappropriate than it already is. She gives me a pointed look.

"Were they meeting up to have sex?" she asks.

"Not only sex, but…yes," I answer begrudgingly.

"And they were keeping it a secret?"

"Of course. Interoffice relationships are strongly discouraged."

I can't keep the defensiveness out of my voice. She gives me a meaningful smile.

"It sounds like Harold and Mina were most definitely fuck buddies." She raises her hands when she notices me about to interject. "Which is totally fine ! But if she's still a secret and Harold wants more, the relationship has to come out of hiding." She checks her watch and stands. "And his ex definitely needs to stay out of the picture."

I stand too, completely at a loss. I must be desperate to be considering relationship advice from a virtual stranger. This whole conversation is straight out of "The Twilight Zone".

"Already done," I answer. She nods approvingly and collects her purse and portfolio.

"So, I take it you'll be going with another firm?" I ask, a grimace stretching my lips.

She leans forward and air kisses both sides of my face.

"Let's reschedule. I told you your win record precedes you. Have someone set up another meeting but, next time, keep the personal stuff at home."

"Of course," I reply, shocked Ms. Gray could be so calm about this. "Thank you for being so understanding."

She waves it off like it's nothing for her lawyer to essentially have a nervous breakdown in an introductory meeting. I walk her to the elevators and, on the way back to my desk, I think about Camila.

Ms. Gray may have a point about a grand gesture, but going out on a limb for a woman I care about has never ended well. When Naomi thought I was going to make things official, she slept with someone else. We're better off letting things cool down. We'll talk then and Camila will understand. She always does.