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“We will,” he assures me, running a warm palm up and down my back. “And if by some failure of justice we don’t, then I will fight this with everything I’ve got. I’d burn the world down for you,” he says full of conviction.
I believe him.
I believe he’d fight an army of kings if it meant giving me what I want. Of helping me realize my dreams.
“I love you,” I whisper into his suit jacket.
“Love you more.”
I grin, reaching for a banana and allowing Brecken to make some toast. As I get the coffee machine working, Reuben enters the kitchen and heads straight for me.
“How are you feeling?” he asks me, tying his tie into a Double Windsor knot.
“Nervous, but optimistic.”
He winks, leaning in to kiss me softly on the mouth. “That’s the spirit.”
“Need help?” I ask, having become an expert at ties and knots these past few months. I’m pretty sure Roo can do them himself, but he likes having me fuss over him, something I’m quite happy to do.
When we get going for the courthouse, a colleague of Brecken’s comes with us. A contracts lawyer, Valerie Carter seems totally on her game. With her and Brecken defending our position, I don’t doubt our success, even though I play devil’s advocate too easily.
Wardorff-Messen clearly lied. The emails prove it.
But it’s not the result of the case that I’m so twisted up about. And it was why Luca and Brecken’s affection was so vital this morning. Why Reuben ignored my misdirection about my state of mind.
I want WM to pay for what they’ve done to me personally and professionally, whether that be whilst I was their employee, or for the opportunity they’ve taken from me and the Balthazar Hotel Group. Over the past few weeks, Brecken has urged me to consider suing them for damages. For the loss of earnings due to their take on my credibility. And while it’s tempting, I have enough on with Levi and the cake business. And besides, these things tend to lead to blatant, unnecessary explorations into a woman’s sex life, and my relationship with Balthazar Wolfford’s sons is not something I want anyone scrutinizing.
But a win against WM today will feel like a personal victory for the history we already share. It will be vindication for all the wrongs I suffered.
Looking shit-hot in a black suit, Brecken holds open the entrance door for Valerie and me, Roo following us. Inside, we find the courtroom where the hearing will take place, settling at the table and chairs available for us. A few minutes later, Rachel Wolfford-West, Sophie Sainz, and Diana Moore arrive, looking über-glam, expensive, and ready to support us. There’s no sign of Sienna, which is unsurprising.
I greet The Moms. I’ve spent some time on the slopes with these ladies, all of them hugely supportive of the patisserie idea. And when the weekends allow, we grab some dinner, slowly getting to know each other. They’re formidable women. It’s no wonder their sons are so accomplished.
“We’re rooting for you,” Rachel reminds me, kissing my cheek. “And we’re so proud of you.” It has me wondering if she’s talking about The Moms in general, or Luca and her. At this stage, it doesn’t matter.
“This is clear-cut,” Diana encourages. “The judge will see that.”
Sophie envelopes me in her arms, towering over me just as her son does. “Your dream is our dream. We love you so much.”
When Louis and Tricia Gates arrive, Brecken stands to greet them. I follow, hugging them both fiercely and making introductions to the rest of our supporters. After that, I count down the minutes until opposing counsel arrives, even though Roo and Brecken try and distract me about our weekend away.
When the doors groan open and four people enter, my heart skitters with dread. Encouraged by the support of the extended family surrounding me, my focus locks on David Trent first.
I don’t know why I expected there to be huge changes in the appearance of WM’s CEO—it’s not even been a year since I last worked there. He’s still gray-haired and clean-shaven. Slim-built, he wears a pale gray suit that looks more suitable for a car salesman than the second-best hotel in the area. Presumably, he’s followed by two of his legal team, and then Janelle brings up the rear. I throw daggers at the side of her head as she passes, too cowardly to look me in the eye.
“Fuck ‘em,” Roo whispers in my ear just as Judge Freeman enters, a black woman in her late fifties. When she sits, addressing Brecken with some opening remarks, my nerves skyrocket.
“Proceed,” she requests.
Throwing me a soft smile as he stands, Brecken addresses the court. Judge Freeman nods repeatedly as Brecken talks her through the paperwork we’ve submitted. Mostly, it consists of emails from the Gates’ expressly asking to work with me, and Janelle replying that I was working out of state, and that the project had passed to her.
We move on to the contract the Gates’ signed. “The exclusion clause states that the contract may be terminated—without prejudice—if either party is deemed to have misrepresented financial records, to have submitted false or misleading information, or to bring either party into disrepute,” Brecken argues. “Janelle Stiller, with the knowledge of her superiors, intentionally misled Mr. and Mrs. Gates. I refer to evidence B1, a falsified email, sent from Winter Harris’ email account when she was no longer employed by Wardorff-Messen, which states that Ms. Stiller would be the point of contact going forward. Next, I draw your attention to evidence B2, an email from Ms. Stiller to Mr. and Mrs. Gates detailing Winter Harris’ new location and inability to oversee the sale.
“Based on these counts of false information we invoke the exclusion clause, allowing Mr. and Mrs. Gates to dissolve the contract without prejudice.”
Judge Freeman looks over her paperwork. I’m sure she’s already read it in her chambers. “Ms. Harris. I have a question for you.”
I stand, Brecken having already forewarned me that this would be a possibility.
