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Both Kate and Steve look at her.
"What? I’m not making excuses for him, but if we go by what Steve said, it lays the case for him reaching the end of his tether and doing something crazy. Although, in the bigger scheme of things, it’s not that crazy, compared to what others before him have done."
"I tend to agree with you," Steve says slowly.
"Whatever the reason may be, we can agree that he acted like a guilty person when he lied." Kate purses her lips.
"And that’s the point. We’re not here to judge our clients. We’re here to solve their problems. It’s why the wealthy and the powerful come to us." I slap my hands on my hips. "So, where’s Cesar Underwood now?"
"I put him in the Zen meeting room," Mandy replies.
Now, it’s my turn to wince. We only use that room when the client who comes in through the door is so stressed out that normal methods of calming them down don’t work.
I square my shoulders, then turn and head out the room, Kate and Steve on my heels. I reach the door to the conference room and tap once before I push it open.
The soft sound of flutes and bird song piped in through the speakers fills the air. Underneath it, the tinkling of water from the small water-feature in the corner lends an air of peacefulness. Together with the simple wooden chaise pushed up against one wall, the deep-cushioned chairs opposite it, as well as a lava lamp in another corner and the bamboos growing from a pot near the window, the room manages to retain a semblance of tranquility. This, despite the waves of tension pouring off the man who’s standing by the window. I step into the room, and he turns to face me.
"Zara!" He looks exactly like the face on the billboard I pass every day on my drive to work. Almost six foot three, broad shoulders, thick hair that flows back from his face in waves… With his square jaw and sharp cheekbones, he’s handsome enough to have been called the most handsome man in the world, only he’s nowhere near as charismatic as Hunter. Huh, how weird I should think that. I’m certainly not saying Hunter’s handsome—not at all. Okay maybe he is. From some angles. And why am I thinking of him right now?
"Cesar." I nod in his direction.
"You have to help me, Zara, please." He closes the distance to me in a few strides and grabs my hand.
"And I will, I promise, Cesar." I try to extricate my arm, but he holds onto it. "I didn’t do anything wrong, Zara, I swear."
"Except you were at the wrong place at the wrong time," Kate mutters under her breath.
I shoot her a sideways scowl, and Kate wipes the disbelieving look off of her face. She’s every inch the professional; it’s why I hired her straight out of college six years ago. She’s grown with the firm, and I know I can count on her loyalty and her discretion. As I can with all of the other members of my team. Now, she steps forward and pats his shoulder. At least, my team is impervious to his looks. Which is nothing more than I’d expect of them.
It should be difficult to resist the lure of fame and beauty. But when you see the price people pay to stay in the public eye; the dirty laundry that gets aired by the celebrities, media personalities and politicians who pass through these doors, you realize, behind each pretty face lies the seamier side of celebrity popularity. No matter how well-known or how gorgeous the person in front of the camera is. It’s only confirmed my belief that those with access to money and power are normally the ones with the most to hide. And Hunter… What is he hiding, I wonder?
"Zara, did you hear what I said?" Cesar’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
"Whether we believe you or not, is not the point. It doesn’t matter what you did; we’ll do our very best to spin it and ensure the media buys into it so you can walk away from this and to your wife—" I search his features. "—assuming that’s what you want."
"Yes!" He shakes my hand—which he still hasn’t let go of—up and down. "Yes, that’s what I want."
There’s a knock on the door, and I turn to find Mandy has popped her head through the door. "Uh, Brittney Ward is here."
"What?" Cesar’s face pales at the mention of his wife’s name. His knees seem to buckle, and now it’s me who reaches over and grips his shoulder with my free arm to steady him.
"Cesar, you okay?"
"Yes! No!" He glances about the room with the whites of his eyes showing. "I’m not ready to see her."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, he isn’t. I turn to Steve, who’s already backing out of the room. "I’ll keep her occupied for a little while."
I nod with gratitude. I trained him well. Steve’s a one-time commando, who defied his superiors when they asked him to open fire on a target in Afghanistan where the fatalities would have included women and children. He was court-martialed and tried. When I learned of his case, I intervened and helped him out, and defended him successfully. I got him off free and have had his unswerving loyalty ever since. He’s happy to work for me, and happy to do what I ask him to do without asking questions.
The door snicks shut behind him.
"Why don’t you have a seat?" I guide Cesar to the chaise. When I pull back my hand, he releases it. I sink down into one of the chairs opposite him. Kate pours him a glass of water and hands it over. He drains the glass, and when he lowers it, his arm trembles. Kate tops up his glass then shoots me a look before she sits down in the other chair.
Cesar swigs the second glass of water as if it’s something stronger, then places it on the side table. He seems to have regained his composure, for when he looks at me, his features are calmer.
I lean forward in my seat and fix my gaze on him. "So, what’s the real story?"
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