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The moment I step out of the elevator, the sound of hushed murmurs reaches me in waves. I slowly inch forward to find a small crowd watching a scene.
And the location is Knox’s office.
A girl stands in the middle, wearing a pale violet dress and matching heels. Her face is red and even from a distance, I can see the tears and anguish in her eyes.
She’s a myriad of motions; her hands flailing around as she talks, then she hugs herself and more tears follow.
My spine snaps in a line at the scene. It’s so similar to Mom’s when she was married to my abusive stepfather.
The self-comfort. The involuntary jerking. Even the tears that don’t seem to be planned.
In the midst of her small breakdown, Knox sits behind his desk, fingers forming a steeple at his chin, listening.
There’s not an ounce of emotion on his hard face. Not even the fake empathy some people wear as a façade.
He’s in his true element. Unfeeling. Completely detached from her anguish as if she and her grief don’t exist.
My nails dig into the heels of my palms as I clench my fists. Is that how my mom felt with Papa?
That he was too emotionless to feel for her?
That no matter how much she cried, he’d never see those tears or her pain? Is that why she refused to ask him for help?
“Twenty bucks says that he’ll reject her,” one of the interns, a brunette with darker skin, says.
“Call,” her colleague, a tall ginger male replies. “I say that he’ll accept her case.”
“No way.” The brunette shakes her head. “He hasn’t moved during her entire speech.”
“He’s just listening to the facts like he always does.” The ginger waves two bills. “Who’s with me?”
Not many are. A debate breaks out among them about how Knox doesn’t accept many cases and that he’s been on a rejection spree lately.
I’m half-listening to them, half-focused on the girl who keeps touching her hands, her elbow, anywhere she can reach.
“Who are we betting on?” a friendly voice asks, having just arrived to the party.
I immediately recognize him by the accent and slowly step back. It’s Daniel Sterling, another junior partner and Knox’s closest friend. If they’re not working or in court, they’re together.
Unlike Knox, Daniel specializes in international law and has a generally charming presence. Probably because the dimples make him appear friendly, but the jury is still out on whether or not he is.
Despite my spy skills, I haven’t figured him or Knox out. On the outside, they appear to be two hotshot Englishmen who came to study and work here. Their reputations are stellar—or mostly good, aside from their manwhorish ways—and they built their careers tremendously in so little time. They’re often in the limelight at social events and are the talk of magazines and the press—the press I only became aware of after I became Jane, since I didn’t have hardly any focus on it as Anastasia.
However, something tells me that’s not the end of it. I lived in a dangerous world long enough to know that what lurks beneath the surface is often much more nefarious than what’s visible.
“We’re betting twenty bucks on whether or not Knox will reject her,” the brunette replies without looking at him.
“I’ll raise you a hundred on that. He’ll reject her. See that slight twitch of his fingers? It means he’s bored and will kick her out in about twenty seconds.”
Everyone turns around to Daniel and he grins at them, showing his dimples.
They’re flustered for a second, only a second, but then he hops to a sitting position on one of the desks and beckons them over. “Anyone here have popcorn?”
Low laughter breaks out and then they’re all surrounding him, watching the show and chatting among themselves.
I stay on the outskirts, feeling like I need to be there for some reason.
“Three, two…” Daniel counts with his fingers. “And go.”
