Pride & Precedents (The Park Brothers #2)

25. Henry

Chapter twenty-five

Henry

A week without Camila, and I'm beginning to think I made the wrong choice. I miss her. Not just her professional contributions, although Rick continues to invent new ways to disappoint me. Not just her body, although I feel her phantom touch every night in bed. I miss her . The woman who busts my balls daily, but also pushes me to be better. To see what life is like without the high walls and sharp borders I put around anything I can't control.

These weeks without her sassy smile in the morning or her swaying hips as she brings me a file have led to the worst insomnia of my entire life. Two hours on the treadmill, furiously fisting my hand, and a double of bourbon still only get me a few fitful hours of sleep. I've doubled my caffeine intake to cover it, but I can feel myself slipping. Mr. Bannister's sent more than a few worried glances my way, but since I haven't actually screwed up a case (yet), he's keeping his distance.

She still hasn't answered my calls or texts, and I'm not dense enough to believe only her study schedule is to blame. I can keep quiet, and lose the one woman who eases the constant pressure that's been plaguing me since high school, or I can come clean and risk a career that's taken years to build.

A sharp rap on my doorjamb snaps me out of my daze. Jonathan waltzes in, not bothering to wait for an invitation.

"Hey there, bestie," he says with an obnoxious grin. He's come to gloat, and I couldn't care less.

"I'm not your 'bestie', Jonathan," I reply, letting the bored irritation seep into my voice. His smile widens into a sneer and he takes a seat in one of the leather chairs of my sitting area.

"I beg to differ. We must be besties for you to drop that Watanabe-Moore case in my lap with a big red bow." The bastard puts his feet up on the coffee table, scuffing it with his Hugo Boss knock-offs.

"Judge Allen deliberated for less than two hours before awarding Naomi fifty percent of all marital assets, including the properties Tanner tried to hide. He also has to pay $10,000 a month in alimony, since their daughter is attending private school here, and living with Ms. Watanabe." His pleased expression nearly turns my stomach. "When this story hits the news, it's finally gonna be my name they say."

It stings that Jonathan gets the W after I handed everything to him on a silver platter. Still, I'm actually happy for Naomi. Things might not have worked out between us, but I realize now that she wasn't a terrible person. Just young and maybe a little na?ve, like I was. She and her daughter deserve a fresh start.

"Congratulations, Jonathan. I'm glad to hear even you couldn't fuck up this slam dunk of a case." His smile fades into a menacing baring of teeth and he stands.

"Hey, screw you, Henry! You may bill the most, your record may be impressive," he leans into my personal space, "but no one around here can fucking stand you." He motions to the empty desk outside my office door. "I noticed Camila wasn't out there when I came in. Did you run her off too?!"

That gets me out of my chair. I inch closer to him, blood like ice in my veins, and practically growl.

"Ms. Sanchez took a leave of absence to prepare for the bar exam." He can't hide his surprise, and I relish the opportunity to make him look like an idiot.

"She's been working and going to law school at night for years. When she passes, and I've got no doubt she'll pass, the firm would be stupid not to hire her on the spot." I lean closer to him and the pipsqueak takes a small step back. "Even without her card, she's got a better legal mind than some around here."

I maintain eye contact, so he knows I'm insulting him. He's not the brightest bulb in the box. To brag to me about winning with my work doesn't even make sense.

He puffs up his chest, trying to muster up some bravado.

"Whatever, man. Maybe I'll call her and take her someplace nice to celebrate the win. Show her not all guys at the firm are so stiff and full of themselves."

He's baiting me. I know it. Knowing it doesn't keep my hands from balling into fists, though. This moron won't get anywhere near Camila.

Just as my control starts to slip and I move further into Jonathan's space, I hear shouting down the hall.

"Get your hands off of me!" a male voice shouts. Shuffling feet and sounds of a struggle get louder as they approach my office.

"Sir, please," Avery pleads. "If you don't calm down and vacate the premises, I'll have security escort you out."

Suddenly, Tanner's body is in my doorway. His eyes are wild, and rage flows from him like water from a ruptured fire hydrant.

"You son of a bitch!" As Tanner stalks further into my office, Jonathan, the sniveling shit, sneaks out behind him.

"The board is furious. They're killing the IPO!" He kicks the coffee table, and the water glasses on top shatter to the floor. "I going to lose everything!"

I silently motion for Avery to call security while trying to guide Tanner out of my office. She scurries off in a blur of blonde waves.

"Look, Mr. Moore—" Tanner shrugs away my hand on his shoulder.

"Don't give me that 'Mr. Moore' shit. You know who I am, and I know this was personal ."

I've nearly got him out of my office, crowding him until he has no choice but to retreat. He's not a small man—he's obviously been working out since his days on Yale crew—but I tower over him by at least four inches. That's why I made a perfect stroke, while Tanner was just a bow rower. Maybe Camila would enjoy a few naughty crew puns…

"I know there's bad blood between us, Tanner, but I had nothing to do with the judge's decision today. It was you who tried to cheat Naomi out of her fair share." Tanner just roles his eyes.

"Fair share? I built my company from nothing! Now that whore thinks she can take half of everything ? If I'd known she was going to be this much trouble, I never would have stolen her from you all those years ago."

This guy is a piece of work. Curious heads pop out from cubicles and nearby offices, eager to catch wind of anything salacious.

"Are you seriously bringing up nonsense that happened over a decade ago?" I ask. I feel nothing like the visceral reaction I had when Naomi confronted me last week. All I feel now is relief to be done with both of them for good.

"You made this bed yourself, Tanner. Now you're gonna lie in it."

I nod to the men behind him and strong hands band around Tanner's upper arms.

"You're gonna pay for this, Henry!" Tanner yells back as security tugs him towards the elevators. "You can't hide behind these rent-a-cops forever."

I scoff at that. He wishes he could take me.

When security has him in the elevator and the doors close behind them, the office is at a standstill. No one is bothering to avert their eyes from the scene that unfolded.

At the back of the crowd, Mr. Bannister and Mr. Banks catch my eye, motioning for me to follow them. Fuck . After all that, I may have just lost my job and any opportunity to come clean about Camila. Maybe it's for the best.

"Thank you for coming, Henry," Mr. Banks says as he takes a seat next to Mr. Bannister and Mr. Smith.

As if I had a choice. I sit at the round table in the conference room reserved for partners for the second time in a week. This cannot be good.

"It has come to our attention," Mr. Smith begins, "that you are taking part in an inappropriate relationship with your paralegal, Ms. Camila Sanchez."

The floor beneath me vanishes in an instant. After days of tossing and turning, pretending I didn't know Camila was right about coming clean, and convincing myself we were being careful enough, I'm out of time. They know. Somehow …they know.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Mr. Banks demands when I've stayed silent too long. I clear my throat.

"A few weeks ago," I begin hesitantly, "Ms. Sanchez and I began a casual relationship outside of the office." Except that one time in the file room. "It has not impacted either of our work, and the relationship does not violate any published firm policies."

Stony expressions stare back at me.

"It may not be explicitly written, Mr. Park," Mr. Banks fumes, "but you of all people know that certain rules, rules meant to preserve decorum and prevent unnecessary conflict, are implied."

"Do you plan to continue seeing Ms. Sanchez, knowing interoffice relationships are discouraged?" Mr. Bannister asks. His voice is even, his expression thoughtful.

If she'll have me. Implying that what we have is insignificant hardly helped things. Neither did suggesting we continue seeing each other in secret, considering all the women I've openly dated in the past. After the best sex of my life and an amazing weekend together, I choked at the first sign of trouble. No wonder she's not texting me back.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. Mr Banks and Mr. Smith frown.

"If you did choose to continue your relationship," Mr. Bannister says, "we would, of course, have to reassign Ms. Sanchez to support another attorney."

My stomach drops. I was afraid of that. But, if it means I can keep seeing her…

"I understand."

"Well, I certainly don't," Mr. Smith harrumphs. "You've put in years at this firm, Henry. Top earner six years in a row, and already in the running this year too. Why on earth would you jeopardize that for a…a fling with your paralegal?"

Before I can answer, Mr. Bannister cuts in.

"You're right, Sean. Henry's given us years of stellar service. And, as he mentioned, his relationship with Ms. Sanchez is not against any policies."

"Well, it damn well should be, Bill! This kind of behavior—"

"Is sometimes unavoidable, Sean," Mr. Bannister cuts in. "You know as well as I do that things can and do happen over long hours in close quarters. We can hardly punish Henry if he didn't break any rules, anyway."

Mr. Smith looks outraged, red-faced and shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"A three-month suspension without pay," Mr. Banks suggests. Mr. Smith looks like he's about to explode.

"Suspension? Henry should be fired!"

"That's ridiculous," Mr. Bannister scoffs. "He's one of the finest attorneys in this firm. I agree with Richard. Three months' suspension for inappropriate conduct with a subordinate," Mr. Bannister turns his stern face to me, "and for the dust to settle with the Moore-Watanabe fiasco."

Mr. Banks nods, but Mr. Smith pushes away from the table and angrily storms out of the room. Mr. Banks sighs and follows him out.

Mr. Bannister stands, but I remain seated, still in shock. Three months' suspension?

"It took balls to push back about Ms. Sanchez, Henry. If you'd told us earlier, we could have addressed this more proactively."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Bannister walks towards the door, but turns before opening it.

"Did I ever tell you about my paralegal before Cici?" I shake my head. "Annabeth. She was before your time. We travelled everywhere together. Once things changed between us, she moved to Real Estate."

He knocks on the table twice and smiles meaningfully.

"Take this time off and come back rested, Henry. You're a valuable part of this team."

Mr. Bannister opens and shuts the door behind him.

I grab a tortilla and start loading it with chicken, shredded lettuce, diced tomatoes, and cheese. I go through the motions numbly, still processing my suspension and Mr. Bannister's bombshell.

Adam and Noah wait impatiently behind me for their turn at the taco bar. I don't know how we all ended up at Mom and Dad's on a weeknight, but having family around when everything else in my life is falling apart is a blessing I won't question. To think I ever put work over this !

Cory is conspicuously absent. Noah's right, he's going through something, but I'm still glad I don't have to sit across the table from him when he's in the mood to lash out. Noah, on the other hand, seems to be trying to stare a hole through my face.

I ding my glass, and everyone quiets down around me.

"First, I want to say thanks, Mom and Dad, for always letting us come raid your kitchen, even though we're old enough to cook our own dinner."

"But no one throws down like Mom," Noah interjects, making Mom blush. Adam and Dad both raise their glasses in agreement.

"Second, I want to let everyone know that I'm going to be around a lot more for my baby brother's wedding planning. I won't miss anything; not a fitting, not a cake tasting. Just think of me as your wedding wingman going forward."

I take a bite of my taco, ignoring the concerned expressions that surround me. Dad is the first to speak.

"And how do you suddenly happen to have all this spare time?"

"Yeah," Adam adds. "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I thought you barely had time for the wedding and now you're going to be at everything ?"

Damn. That's what Adam thought of me? Seems like this suspension came at the perfect time. I put my taco down and look him in the eyes.

"First of all, you're my baby brother, and this is your big day. Of course I'm going to be there." I slap Adam on the back and he gives me a small smile, clearly still skeptical.

"To answer your question, Dad," I continue, "I've been suspended for three months, effective immediately." I ignore Mom's gasp. "The partners found out about Camila and I. We didn't break any rules," I rush to add when I see Dad's frown, "but between Camila, what happened with Naomi, and Tanner getting past security to threaten me—"

"What?!" Mom squeaks, and I push forward, eager to get everything out.

"They thought I should take some time off until things die down. Assuming Camila comes back after passing the bar, she will be reassigned to another department."

I take another huge bite of my taco while everyone just stares at me.

"I'm sorry to hear that, son, but you don't have to take that lying down. You can appeal. Although it's not what I would've done, if it wasn't against policy, they can't try to push you out."

I sigh and put down my taco again. It's quickly disintegrating into a pile of toppings.

"Dad, just stop. I don't need to appeal. The circumstances might not be ideal, but do you realize I haven't taken a real vacation in years? Not since before I was promoted to partner." I press on, when Dad looks ready to interrupt.

"Every time I flew somewhere, I brought my laptop. I didn't go anywhere that didn't have great Wi-Fi. For Christ's sake, I literally settled the Delancey case on the front steps of your brownstone instead of being inside to celebrate Adam's engagement. Work-life balance has been nonexistent."

Dad looks at me like I'm a petulant child rebelling against bath time.

"That's the job, son. Sure, it's more than a nine to five, but you're helping people."

I start to scoff before catching Dad's glare. I clear my throat instead.

"I don't want to keep bankers' hours, and I know the work I do is important, even if all the worst lawyer jokes are about divorce lawyers. But the pressure has been killing me, Dad. From Yale undergrad, to Yale law, to a prestigious clerkship, to the partner track, and now I'm a partner still proving myself to the senior partners." I tick off the list on my fingers. "There was never any break. Never any time to even think about whether all this is what I want."

"Don't be hasty, Jr.," Dad insists in a stern voice. "Don't throw away everything you've worked for just because you're a little burnt out."

My shoulders sag a bit, but I smile warmly at my father. He's my biggest role model, always pushing me to do more, think bigger. But he might have pushed too hard.

"I won't, Dad. I'm not stupid enough to throw all that education and dedication away because of one setback. All I'm saying is I'm going to use this suspension to actually take a break, to think about what I want, who I want, and to help my little brother get ready to walk down the aisle."

"Here, here!" Noah shouts, raising his glass. I give him a nod and drink from my own. Adam squeezes my shoulder and I catch Mom and Dad sharing a look.

"Everything's gonna be fine," I try to reassure them. "And hey, you'll get to see my handsome face more often!"

Adam laughs and throws a handful of lettuce at me.

"Full of yourself much?" he teases.

Noah puts shredded cheese down the back of my shirt while I'm dusting off the lettuce.

"Hey! What are you, twelve?"

My brothers and I devolve into a minor food fight while Mom just shakes her head. She and Dad don't have to be on board. From now on, I'm done following everyone else's plans for how my life should go. It's time to make some of my own.