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“It’s personal. I promise,” I assured, knowing the unfortunate truth that had shackled my life. When I made a promise, I didn’t break it. We stared for a moment, unsure of what to say next, and if this was indeed a chess match, then it started to feel like a draw.
Another knock appeared at the door.
“Parker!” Mila came in, carrying what appeared to be a fresh cup of coffee in her hand. She seemed disappointed, immediately seeing that I already had one on my desk. Scarlett rushed to her side, giving a look of both panic and remorse. “If they kept me waiting any longer your drink would’ve gone cold,” she winced, catching eyes with Lina before setting the coffee down. “Last night was just so crazy, and I figured you would need the pick me up.” She looked to Lina with a smile, “Hi, I’m—” She reached out, but I was quick to halt any exchange of titles.
“Miss Martinez! As your legal counselor I’m going to advise you to refrain from talking. Now.” I said sharply, not out of malice, but urgency. She seemed stunned, but Lina shook her head.
“It’s ok… I was on my way out, anyways.” Lina stood up, moving her focus between me and the Belmont Hills brochure. “I believe your warnings, Mr. Jones. I’m certain you know more about law than I do, but it doesn’t take a freshmen from Yale to know that a breach of a non-disclosure can be catastrophic.” She tapped her finger on the brochure, making her message clear about Natalie Brower.
The girl from Belmont Hills…
The girl who they founddeadin Alex Rivers’ bed…
This case was less about The Pierre Hotel, and more about the secret of Natalie—the very secret that Tommy almost told Mila. I hated Alex and the turmoil he caused, but in turn, respected the wishes of Natalie’s husband to remain quiet through the mediation process. My patience was teetering though, not once wanting to settle, but rather, to take Alex Rivers to court, to have him pay for his damages, both publicly and privately. This was what drove me mad, this was what I wanted to warn Gemma about, but never could.
“Just be careful what you do, Mr. Jones. You can’t control everything… and the sooner you realize that… the better off you’ll be.”
Reluctantly, I agreed, giving her my silent approval as she left my office.
Mila sighed, lifting the coffee she brought for me and taking a sip of her own. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said somewhat shyly.
“You didn’t. And thank you for being quick to listen. I hope I didn’t catch you off guard.” I welcomed her closer, guiding her to the chair where Lina just sat.
“That seemed so serious.”
“Lawyers make everything feel serious. Even lunch is a debate.”
“Hopefully not for us. Can I take you out later? I know last night was a little chaotic, and I didn’t exactly make things easy.” Her timid response was Mila’s way of apologizing. To be honest, she didn’t handle the fire alarm so well, though neither did I. I was in no position to judge her, and I certainly didn’t want her to feel bad.
“It was a tense situation. The whole night was.” I sighed, “But yeah, let’s grab lunch.” Time out of the office would be needed, and I was certain Gemma wouldn’t consider eating with me, not after our morning together. I thought of her even now, of what she said and her perception of me. I knew I was losing control, physically slamming my hand over her head, leaning close to her face, tempted once and for all to kiss her—not just slowly—but fucking deeply. I only hoped that hadn’t been lost, that I could make her see how dangerous Alex really was while maintaining what little professionalism I still had.
My phone buzzed on my desk, a response from Gemma, replying to my command to meet Alex face-to-face earlier this morning.
Gemma: 9:00 p.m. - last Friday of the month at Dante’s, 60th floor at the bar. You, Me, Alejandro.
Mila read the text out loud, sounding surprised. “Alejandro?” She asked.
“Alex Rivers,” I responded, pulling the phone away, placing it into my pocket. She chewed her lip, not even allowing a second to pass before asking the dreaded question.
“Can I come?”
“It’s work-related.”
“With Gemma too?” She pouted.
“It’s a sensitive subject.”
“Is it about last night? How you broke down her door? How you tried to rescue her from the non-fire?” She made it sound so pathetic, and maybe it was, or maybe, I was just that reckless now.
Tommy passed by my office, catching a glimpse of Mila, but immediately turned the other direction. What I feared and what I presumed I was, was a lot like Tommy. I wasn’t sure if I could be so careful around Gemma or keep the secrets I held. Maybe I would blurt them out, maybe I would ruin everything just like Claire said.
“If you come, you cannot ask questions,” I sighed, knowing it was both a good and bad idea. If Mila was there, I could try and be on my best behavior, to remind myself not to say things I shouldn’t out loud. But not even that was a guarantee. Mila smiled, wobbling her head like a bobble doll.
Immediately, her smile turned into a frown as she caught a glimpse of the Belmont Hills brochure.
“Wow,” she read the subtext out loud, “Private Home and Women’s Facility.”
“A treatment center. For trauma and abuse victims,” I buried my response, taking the pamphlet from her hand and placing it in my drawer.
