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I turned to watch the door open. James, Melissa Benson’s personal assistant, stuck his head into the room.
“Ms. Benson is ready to see you now.”
I squared my shoulders and readied myself for what might very well be the most important meeting of my career so far.
Chapter 21
Claire
Melissa Benson’s office was located on the third floor of our building, as high as you could go at Benson & Silver, both literally and figuratively. Her assistant led me to the tall, birchwood door to her office, the name “Melissa Benson, Esq.” written in hard, block letters next to it.
I’d always gotten along with Melissa, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t a touch nervous every time we met. Michael Silver, the other partner, tended to spend most of his time with clients rather than the staff. Melissa was more of the liaison with the crew, which meant that if you met with her it was something big.
James knocked, then opened the door to the office.
“They’re in there waiting for you,” he said.
I cocked my head to the side in mild confusion. “I’m sorry,they?”
James pursed his lips, as if he’d realized he’d already said too much.
“Client’s here with her. Go on in.”
Part of me wanted to protest. The way these consultations were typically done was to have a one-on-one with Melissa first, where she’d give you all the details of the case. After that initial meeting, and once we’d had a little time to do some research, the client meeting would take place.
I was going in totally blind.
I stepped through the door and into the office. The space was huge, nearly as big as my apartment, with enormously tall ceilings and some of the best views in the city visible through the tall, glass walls.
Melissa Benson rose slightly from her desk, giving me a professional smile as I entered. She was as impressive as they came—a Harvard Law graduate who’d formed one of the most successful criminal defense law firms in the city by the time she was thirty. Everything about her bearing made it clear what a formidable woman she was. She stood tall and confident, dressed in a sharp, navy-blue pantsuit, her curly, blonde hair tied back loosely, framing her gorgeous face.
The client was seated in the chair across from Melissa’s long, oak desk.
“And there she is,” Melissa said. “Claire, please join us.”
I entered the room, James shutting the door and leaving the three of us alone.
I was full of questions, the main one being, “who the hell was this guy who’d managed to jump right to the front of the line and have a seat with Melissa herself?” I flicked my eyes down to him, noting the back of his head—thick, ink-dark hair, slicked back.
Instead of barraging my boss with questions, however, I smiled.
“Thank you, Melissa.”
With that, the man rose. He was tall and trim, dressed in a dark, double-breasted suit with faint pinstripes. He wore no tie, his shirt undone, showing off his olive-complexioned chest dusted with hair as dark as that on his head. He appeared to be in his forties, well-groomed and dripping with an old-school sort of charm, not to mention wealth. His dark eyes flicked up and down my body, his smile almost imperceptibly spreading at the sight of me.
“And I,” he said, his words tinged with a rich, Latin American accent, “am most eager to meet you.”
Right away I could tell that this man, whoever he was, would be no ordinary client. There was something familiar about him that made me feel like we’d met before. It was a strange feeling, though. Surely I would’ve remembered meeting a man as unique as him.
He offered his hand to me. “You certainly are lovely.”
“Lovelyandbrilliant,” Melissa quickly corrected. “However, I didn’t team her with you so you could ogle her, just so you know.”
The man chuckled, not bothered in the slightest by Melissa’s sharp, corrective tone.
“I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.”
I reached forward and took his hand, giving it a firm shake.
