My uncle’s firm was located downtown, only a short drive from my house. I had been there often when I was younger, but hadn’t stepped foot inside since I had gone to college. Not that it was hard to find. It was in the same building, but it had expanded. They had the whole fortieth floor, now. After parking my car in the basement garage and offering a silent prayer that they would validate my ticket, I headed up to the lobby. I mean, come on, four dollars every ten minutes?

The lobby was filled with dozens of gray-suited people. On the surface, I appeared to fit in. I had worn my mock trial outfit. A light gray suit, skirt ending just above the knee, jacket cut low and buttoned at my waist, and a cream-colored blouse that fitted tightly across my breasts. The purpose of the outfit was to look professional, but alluring at the same time. If it made any of my male opponents think of something other than their case, it gave me an edge. And there was nothing inappropriate about it, so nobody could complain that I was being intentionally distracting. It gave me confidence to dress up a bit.

That confidence disappeared as soon as I stepped off the elevator on the fortieth floor.

The offices of Cramer, Williams, and Bryant had been transformed since the last time I’d been there. It looked completely different. I remembered a modest space. You had to walk down a non-descript hallway to a bland door with the firm’s name on a little plaque outside. The furniture had been dated, the kind of generic office furniture that was both timeless and never in fashion.

Uncle Edward had gotten a few high-profile clients in the past few years, and the publicity must have paid off. The elevator opened directly into the reception area. The table was exquisite. A massive slab of live-edge mahogany atop a brushed steel façade with the firm’s name punched out and back-lit. The walls were all glass, showing off the immense space that the office occupied and the extraordinary view – a panorama of the city. On a clear day, it probably extended to the ocean.

The woman behind the table was equally striking. Honey-brown skin and green eyes, high-arched cheekbones, and full lips. It looked like my uncle was hiring models to work in reception. I suddenly felt as though all my effort in the mirror this morning was inadequate.

“Hi,” I managed. “My name is Cora…”

“Yes, Miss Maguire, you are expected. Please have a seat and someone will be out for you shortly.”

I blinked away my surprise at her abruptness. She hadn’t even looked up at me and had barely finished speaking when she moved on to her next task, dismissing me instantly. I sat down on one of the tasteful, modernist couches and leafed through a copy of the ABA Journal, which was laying on the table amongst an array of general interest magazines like Newsweek and Time. I wondered to myself what would happen to office waiting rooms if the foretold print apocalypse ever came to pass. Would they have to put tablets with the Texture app installed?

“Miss Maguire?”

I looked up to see another fashion model daylighting as an employee at a law firm. Dressed impeccably and nearly six feet tall in her heels, she approached me with a long, confident stride. I stood up to shake her proffered hand. I wasn’t entirely uncomfortable with relying on my brains instead of my beauty, but normally I was able to utilize both. It was a combination that I was pretty effective at manipulating, taking advantage when people thought I wasn’t as smart or quick as they assumed based on my appearance. But here, I mean, even for LA these women were gorgeous.

“I’m Evelyn, your uncle’s assistant. He’s ready for you now.”

I followed her through the maze of glass-walled hallways. It was disconcerting, everything being open and visible. There was nowhere to hide. I walked quickly to keep up with Evelyn’s long legs. We arrived at a corner office with a modicum of privacy, frosted glass instead of the clear panes that gave everyone an open view into the other lawyers’ offices. I guess it was a perk of being a name partner. Evelyn pushed the door open and stepped through, holding it open for me. I walked in, nodding a thank you to her, and found my uncle sitting behind his desk. The desk was incongruous, a massive, ornate piece made of dark stained wood. It would have fit in an old, wood-paneled room with thick carpets and one of those little drink carts disguised as a globe. But my uncle was a bit of an odd character. I guessed that the contrast suited him.

“Cora! It is so wonderful to see you.” He stood up and walked around the desk, enveloping me in a warm hug. “Thank you, Evelyn. And let Asher know that she’s here.” The long-legged assistant silently exited the room.

“Thank you for the opportunity, Uncle Edward, I am really looking forward to getting started. I know I am going to learn a ton working here.”

He smiled paternally.

“Of course. I know that you aren’t planning on going into criminal law, but the kind of work we do is broadly applicable. And there is no substitute for trial experience. Even if criminal trials function a little differently from civil court, it still is good experience. Do you know what kind of law you want to practice when you graduate?”

“Umm, something in public interest law, or international law, I think.”

“Well, criminal defense might actually be more applicable than you think. I mean, we aren’t The Innocence Project, but we do help to protect people from getting bullied by the state.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “You are going to do great, I’m sure. Now, this is going to be challenging. Law school is nothing compared to actual practice, you know.”

“That’s an understatement, Edward.” Another man’s voice butted in. I turned to look at its owner. I hadn’t heard him open the door.

Standing in the doorway was the most attractive man I had ever laid eyes on. His light-brown hair was intentionally, expertly tousled, giving him an air of nonchalance that was clearly cultivated. The loose, disheveled hair contrasted starkly with the exquisitely tailored suit. It fit him like it had been sewn on, accentuating his broad shoulders and torso like an inverted V. His jawline was sharp, defined, with high cheekbones below his eyes, which were gray-blue like a storm-tossed sea. He let the door close behind him and approached me, stalking forward like a leopard, casual but poised.

“Cora, I would like you to meet Asher Dean. He is going to be your mentor for the summer.”

Asher raised his hand to shake mine. He kept his eyes locked onto mine, like he was peering right into the center of my being. Absently, I took his hand. It was warm, dry. He gripped my hand gently, but firmly. A little shiver of excitement ran up my arm, like I was touching an electric current. The tingling danced around my chest and settled into butterflies in my stomach.

I had been a little nervous when I arrived, the uncertainty and the inevitable worries about a new experience, but this was different. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to even get a single word out. My tongue felt like it had grown to double its usual size and my whole jaw felt tight and unresponsive.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cora. Edward said you are near the top of your class at USC.”

“Yes, well, top ten percent,” I managed to stammer.

“That’s great, good for you.” He turned to my uncle. As soon as his eyes broke away from mine, I felt a wave of relief. Tension I didn’t know I’d felt melted away.

“Edward, if you guys are done, I’d like to talk with Cora about what she can expect this summer.”

“Of course, of course. Cora, you are in good hands. Listen and watch. Asher is a very good attorney.”