The Dangerous Seduction (7 page)

He and Fiona go out to interview a couple of witnesses from McNeil’s former IT and Operations teams. They don’t learn anything new, but it’s nice to hear the witnesses reinforcing what they’ve already said in their statements. He’s worked on cases before where he’s gotten whiplash from the number of times a client’s changed their statement.

Still, the interviews leave him feeling despondent, not about the case itself—he’s more determined than ever before to keep working the case—but the plaintiffs themselves trouble him. He’d wanted to get onto the McNeil case even before he joined Chase Mackey Van Aardt. It’s a huge case, one that regularly makes the business section of the papers, and even the main national news from time to time. It’s worth millions of dollars to whoever wins or loses, and it’s worth even more than that in terms of reputation for Chase Mackey Van Aardt, especially for Joseph Van Aardt. Every litigation attorney in the business wants in on this case. But this isn’t just about Joseph’s or the firm’s reputation. It isn’t about column inches, or sticking it to The Man in the shape of Jack McNeil. It’s also about real human loss, and Ryan has been missing that—until now.

Their clients are real people going through real shit. These are families and individuals who have lost everything. Not just their jobs, but the money they were going to spend on their kids’ education, the money they’d put by to support their elderly parents, the money they were going to spend on their own retirement—it’s all gone. Sure, he knew that in the same way he knew that there are people starving in Africa, but he’s seen it now. He’s heard it directly from these people, he’s seen the desperation and hope in their faces, and it’s left a really nasty and guilty taste in his mouth.

He’s working later that evening, rereading and rewriting everything he’s done. He thinks about Daisy’s parents. Her father had been forced into early retirement the year before when his company went through a period of restructuring. They’d apologized over the phone to a tearful Daisy for not being able to contribute anything to the wedding, and her brother had admitted while drunk that he loaned them ten thousand dollars for emergency repairs to their roof after a storm ripped through the town where they lived. These clients are normal people, just like Daisy’s parents, just like his cousin Ben, who lost his job and then lost his house when he couldn’t make the mortgage payments and had to move back in with Aunt Carol and Uncle Steve. They’re real people who didn’t deserve what happened to them. Joseph is right; Jack McNeil is corrupt and he should pay.

“Hey, still here?”

He jumps halfway out of his seat, the sudden movement sending a sheaf of papers cascading to the floor and with them his coffee mug, falling onto the carpet with a soft thud.

Joseph is standing in the doorway to Ryan’s office, and even more unexpectedly, he’s not wearing a suit, but designer jeans and a casual charcoal-gray button-down with the sleeves rolled up.

“Oh shit, ah, I mean… yeah, yeah, I am. Obviously.” He slides off his chair and crouches down to pick up his mug and the scattered papers. Joseph doesn’t say anything about his clumsy ineptitude and verbal diarrhea but just moves forward and crouches down to help. Ryan hesitates, his gaze catching and fixing on Joseph’s bowed face, the way his eyelashes fan spider-thick over the hollow of his pale cheek, the delicate curve of his nose and bow of his lips. The breath catches in his throat and he’s unable to stop staring. The guy really is extraordinarily attractive, and the fact that Ryan can’t stop noticing it and reacting to it terrifies him, his gut knotting up with a hot, dark recognition that takes him back to those stifling afternoons in his teenage bedroom with Duke Grayson.

With an effort, he forces himself to look away from Joseph. He gets to his feet, dumps the papers onto his desk, letting them spill haphazardly over his keyboard and books. Joseph places his sheaf of papers down into a more coherent pile on the edge of the desk.

“So, what have you been working on so diligently? Show me,” Joseph says.

“Seriously? You want to see?”

“I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I didn’t, Ryan.”

He fumbles through the papers, trying to locate his new drafts. He holds them out to Joseph, who takes them with a small smile.

He tries to work as Joseph reads, self-consciously sorting through the pile of crumpled papers with clumsy fingers, Joseph looming in the corner of his vision. He can see the glint of golden-brown hairs on Joseph’s toned forearms where his sleeves are pushed up, the pale hint of skin at his open collar, and a couple of days’ stubble on his chin. He’s probably just flown in from wherever he’s been over the past few days, but he looks nothing like how Ryan looks after flying. Joseph’s hair is a little flatter than normal, the gel sweated out, but it suits him, making him look softer and more approachable. Ryan finds his mind wandering, picturing himself running his fingers through Joseph’s hair and touching his face, curling his fingers around his strong, muscled forearms and pressing their hips together.

He gulps and tries to concentrate on his computer screen, the blinking cursor and blur of text staring back at him. He’s barely managed to write a sentence by the time Joseph finishes reading and drops the papers back onto the desk. Ryan looks up, and tries for a tentative smile, but Joseph’s expression is giving nothing away.

“Was it okay?” he asks.

“You’re trying too hard,” Joseph says.

He swallows back the surge of frustration at the statement. What does that even mean? How can he try too hard? It’s the sort of banal, meaningless statement you’d hear from an American Idol judge and it’s never made any kind of sense to him. By definition it makes no sense. Surely it’s a good thing to try hard.

“You’re grandstanding. You’re trying to make some political, social point. This isn’t class warfare, Ryan. This isn’t about what’s
fair.
”

“But our clients, they lost everything, Joseph. And it
isn’t
fair. Not when people like Jack McNeil get away with it. The guy broke the law but he’s still sitting on a multibillion dollar fortune. He’s still got all these huge-ass mansions in Martha’s Vineyard and Palm Springs and Dallas and every other fancy-ass corner of the country. It was his fault that company failed, yet he hasn’t suffered at all!”

“Well, I’m not sure I would go that far. All the bad press has got to hurt. Plus he’s being sued by me—that’s definitely not a good thing.” Joseph’s mouth twitches into that sharklike smile again, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“I know that, but he’s still got the business in Texas and he’s still in charge of thousands of people’s futures and he’s not fit for it. He should’ve at least stepped down from the company. I don’t know why the board didn’t insist upon it. But no, he’s going about his daily business like nothing’s changed.”

“Believe me, if McNeil is forced to step down, then he’ll push several people out with him. He won’t go easily. There’ll be job losses and the share price will fall even further and it won’t be pretty. Don’t forget that this guy has been a CEO for years. He’s got friends in high places. He’s best buds with the Texas governor. He’s an all-American success story.”

“He’s a crook,” Ryan retorts.

Joseph snorts and raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, don’t let anyone hear you say that out loud.”

“Shit, yeah, sorry. I shouldn’t say that. I know. It’s just—” He sighs. “Man, I’m sorry. I can see what you mean.” He breaks off, glancing across the desk at Joseph. The guy’s watching him interestedly, giving him a look that’s impossible to interpret. “I can get a bit soapbox-y, I know that. Daisy’s always telling me that.”

“Daisy?”

“My fiancée.” He blushes and immediately hates himself for it.

Joseph nods and taps a finger against the sheets of paper. “Rewrite it. The essence of it is good. Believe me, I’d be telling you otherwise if it wasn’t. But just dial it down a little.”

Ryan nods slowly, swallowing back the disappointment. He knows that Joseph is right, but he still feels like he’s just been given a C+ on a term paper he’s busted his ass on.

“And, Ryan, go home. You don’t have to prove anything to me by burning the midnight oil. You don’t win a bonus for putting in the most time at the office.”

He doesn’t say anything, just thinks of the stack of e-mails in his in-box and the files of other cases Paul is still expecting responses on. And now he has to rewrite this report. He’s not trying to prove anything; he’s just trying to get through the day. But of course, he can’t say that to Joseph. That would be admitting to weaknesses that he can’t afford to show in front of his boss.

He nods and gives Joseph a tired smile. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Joseph repeats, getting up from the chair. He reaches over the desk, drops his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, and squeezes gently. “And listen to me. You’ve got great potential. I’d never have hired you if you didn’t. You can be a great attorney. And I appreciate the work you’re putting in. Don’t think that I don’t notice, I always notice. But you’ve only been here a month, Ryan, don’t burn yourself out too quickly. I want to see great things from you.”

He nods, feeling his cheeks start to burn, this time with pleasure. Joseph squeezes again, removes his hand, pats his arm a couple of times before he turns to leave.

“Go home, Ryan!” he calls over his shoulder. “I am!”

Ryan stares after his retreating back. His shoulder tingles where Joseph touched him and he drags his fingers self-consciously against the material of his shirt. He wonders if Joseph knew he was deliberately touching him in exactly the same place as he did on the night of the awards.

“S
O
,
HOW
are things in Joseph Van Aardt country?” Tim puffs out as they come skidding to a halt under one of the huge oak trees in their favorite corner of the park.

Ryan bends over, putting his hands on his hips, trying to catch his breath. He cranes his neck up and repeats, “Joseph Van Aardt country?”

“Yeah. That’s where you live these days, man. A better, more exclusive country than where the rest of us poor schleps are forced to scrape out a living.”

Ryan snorts and rolls his eyes at him. “Dude, dramatic much?”

“Whatever.” Tim shrugs. He turns his back on Ryan and moves to brace himself against the tree, stretching out his calf muscle. Ryan watches him for a second, then goes to the other side of the tree to follow suit, savoring the burning stretch in his legs as he works one then the other.

“So,” Tim says after they’ve cooled down and stretched out and started meandering back through the park, sipping from their bottles of water.

“So,” Ryan repeats.

“Did you put in a word for me like I asked? Tell Joseph Van Aardt what an awesome prospect I am?”

The truth is he hasn’t done any such thing. Tim has been begging him ever since he started his new job to mention his name to Joseph. Tim’s been sending his résumé regularly to Chase Mackey Van Aardt ever since he passed the bar, and the fact that Ryan ended up with a job there and Tim didn’t is still a very awkward subject between them. In fact, Ryan had been considering begging off their longstanding running date because he’d known that Tim would be unable to avoid bringing up the subject of Joseph.

“You didn’t, did you? Dude! Ryan! C’mon, how long have we been friends?”

“Look, Tim, it’s not as easy as that,” he says. “I’ve only been there five weeks and Joseph is always so busy. I mean, he’s not the kinda guy where you can just knock on his door and go on in there and—”

“Bullshit!” Tim cuts in, gesturing with his water bottle. “Marie told me about your little night out to the Whitehall Foundation Annual Awards. How he asked you
personally
to go with him.” Ryan ducks his head and silently curses Daisy and her best friend Marie and their irritating tendency to talk about every single thing, not to mention Marie’s baffling friendship with Tim and their tendency to also talk about every single damn thing.

“You must’ve had plenty of opportunities there to just, like, slip it in that you had a good buddy, a fellow Columbia graduate looking to move on,” Tim says, voice getting more heated. “A good buddy, who’s also an awesome litigation attorney in the making. Very smart, very capable,
extremely
presentable, and who even kicked your overachieving ass that one time in that patent litigation class.”

Ryan snorts and shakes his head. “Man, are you ever gonna let that go!”

“What? No. No freaking way, dude. That was the one class I beat you in in three goddamn years. No way am I forgetting that.” He turns his head to look at Ryan. “Seriously. Just mention my name. It’s not that difficult, is it?”

“Okay,” Ryan says.

Tim grins and shoulder checks him. “That’s my guy.”

Ryan gives him a faint smile. In truth, he has no intention of saying anything to Joseph about Tim. Not just because it’s really embarrassing, but because he really doesn’t want Tim working at Chase Mackey Van Aardt. He doesn’t want Tim working in an office next to his, sitting in on the same team meetings as him. This is
his
job,
his
chance to make something of himself. Tim being there would ruin everything.