Lest he got accused of not respecting more post-trial traditions, he headed up to the partners’ floor.He found Aya sitting behind the desk.The wordsAya Hadi - Equity Partnerwere engraved on the glass wall next to the door leading into her office.
The forest green power suit and light pink shirt, the same shade as her hijab, made her tawny skin glow.Everything about her, down to her hijab pin matching her golden watch and thin necklace, screamedmeticulous.
Baz knew that to be true.Aya, uncompromisingly, held herself to the same high standard she held him to: always in charge, always in control.
He also knew that outside of work, she cried over old Nancy Meyers movies, but that information was a hard-earned privilege.Yes, he had discovered it by accident when he had come by her apartment unannounced to discuss a case once, but she would have told Baz eventually.Probably.
Her secretary, Tammy, nodded at him to go in, and Baz pushed the door open.
Aya’s focus remained on the keyboard clacking under her fingers.“Court dragged on this long?”
The wryness was ever-present in that Downton Abbey accent, courtesy of the British school her parents had her attend in Cairo.Yet another nugget of information—and not a slip of her tongue no matter what she claimed—Baz had earned.
“Excuse me, I escaped several reporters and an attempted lunch-kidnapping to make it here.Appreciate my sacrifice.”
That got her attention.Even earned him a smile.“Your sister was there?”
They had met once when Eevee showed up at a company networking event to ‘finally put faces to the names,’ and ended up talking for two hours, ignoring Baz the entire time.Since then, they’d been harboring a texting friendship that both insisted was none of Baz’s business.
“Yeah.”
“You should have gone.Would have saved me from having to make sure you remember to feed yourself today.”
She neverhadto.Baz was a capable adult—one with enough experience to know if he had accepted Eevee’s invitation, Aya wouldn’t have stopped teasing him with comments such as ‘what, one win and you already lost sight of the prize?‘
“I’ll remember.”
“You’d better.Tell me about the verdict.”She leaned back and crossed her legs.
“It went great.Satisfied client, huge award.”He dropped himself into his usual spot, the gray cushioned guest chair opposite her desk, and grinned.“Remind me, did you catch any fifteen-million-dollar fish when you were an associate, or…?”
The question was rhetorical—Baz had read all the significant cases of her career.He knew for a fact she had not.
She had come close, of course.Aya was brilliant.She had set plenty of records in her time and wowed everyone with how quickly she climbed through the ranks, just like Baz was determined to do now.Not that he had set a record here—rare as it was that associates were trusted with cases of this caliber, larger amounts had been won.Just not by Aya.
Such a rare opportunity to tease her ought to be exploited.
Aya raised one eyebrow.Amusement tugged at her lips.“You think it’s smart to get cocky with me?”
Not usually, no.Butsomecockiness, she couldn’t deny him on his victory day.
“Weren’t you the one telling me to pause and reflect on my achievements once in a while?”
“All right.Let’s reflect.Tell me three things you’ve done wrong.”
There it was, the humbling.Baz wasn’t ready for it yet; there was so much gloating to do still.He pursed his lips, made a show out of thinking hard.“Hmm… I was too charming?”
Aya’s dark eyes narrowed.“Uh huh.”
“I only made the jury laugh three times when it could have been four?”
“Baz.”
Fine, since she insisted.He sighed.“I stumbled in my opening statement and nearly forgot to ask a witness about something in the discovery.But I didn’t!Obviously.Carter was thrilled with the result, and that’s what matters, right?”
“That’s really it?”
“Yes.You would have been proud.”She was more than welcome to be proud of him now, too.
