Good morning, Noah sent to Cynthia via text the next day. He looked down at the string of texts from the night before. They’d stayed up late into the night shooting messages back and forth. It had been so innocent, like they were each other’s first middle school crush.

“Noah,” his mother called up the stairs.

His phone chimed. I’m tired. Go away, Cynthia texted back.

Grinning, he sent, What time do you have to go to the store? before opening his door and walking to the upstairs landing.

“Yeah?” he called down at his mother.

She looked up at him from the ground floor, her face twisted with anxiety. “Your father wants you to come down. We have a visitor.”

Noah had gotten another pass last night—his father had spent the evening talking with Greg about his practice. The small lulls in the conversation had quickly been filled in by Tia chatting about golf and sports. The news that they had a visitor, especially one who made his mom look like that, probably meant bad things.

“I’ll be right down,” he said, turning back into his room to finish getting dressed.

Another text from Cynthia came in. Don’t know yet. My mom won’t spring it on me until the most inopportune time.

One more came in as he buttoned up his shirt.

This neighborhood has a collection of nice cars, but your house is ridiculous. What’s with the Lambo?

Cold shot through his middle and flash-froze his limbs. His heart started to hammer in his chest.

He took two fast steps to his bedroom window and looked out. Because of the roof, he could only see part of the car, but he trusted Cynthia. Besides, it made sense—this explained his father’s silence on the career subject the last couple of days.

Noah was being set up.

Can you break me out of here??? he texted back. Then, wondering if Cynthia would take it as a joke, added, I’m not kidding. Help!

He stared at the screen, seeing that she was typing.

Sweat accumulating on his upper lip, he put on his watch and shoes and hesitated, staring down at the phone clutched tightly in his hand.

Why? Who is that? Do I need a mask and a machete?

He smiled despite the situation. My old boss probably already has those things. They were likely gifts from some criminal he kept out of jail.

Knowing that if he kept his father and Jim waiting, things would only be worse, he headed downstairs like a man walking to a torture chamber. Greg, Tia, and the kids were nowhere in sight. He wouldn’t be able to use them as a distraction.

“In the den, honey,” his mother said softly as she caught him on her way to the kitchen. “No matter what you decide, I’m proud of you.”

Noah’s heart sank. He nodded with a tight throat and continued his funeral march.

Noah’s dad sat in the recliner with a tall glass filled with what looked like a Bloody Mary. Jim sat adjacent on the couch, his gut covering his belt, his slicked-back hair the same dyed brown, and his eyes small and shrewd.

“Noah,” Jim said as he stood. Even dressed down in slacks and a button-up shirt, Jim had a way about him that screamed, I’m filthy rich and successful, and you don’t matter. “How have the years treated you?”

Noah took the outstretched hand, the grip firm. “Great. Can’t complain. How are you?”

“I’m good, good. Real good. The firm is on a roll. High-profile cases and lots of money coming in. You’re missing out.”

“Jim was just in the neighborhood and thought he’d stop by,” Noah’s dad said with a hard gaze. “Sit.”

“That’s great,” Noah said to Jim, taking the recliner across from his father’s. At least it put a coffee table between them.

“Noah, would you like a Bloody Mary or something to drink?” his mom asked from the doorway.

A glance at his watch said it was only eight in the morning. “No thanks, Mom.”

“Have something. Get him a Bloody Mary,” Noah’s dad said, gesturing her out of the den.

“Mom, I’m fine,” Noah said with an edge to his voice. He was old enough not to get pushed around by the two men sitting in this room.

“So what are you up to these days, Noah?” Jim asked as Alice left the room, ignoring the awkward moment.

“He’s a male model,” Noah’s dad said, the disapproval plain. “He poses for book covers, of all things.”

Surprise lit Jim’s expression. “Is that right? A male model. Huh. Are you able to support yourself on that, Noah?”

Noah shifted in his seat, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. He knew better than to take it out and look at it. He’d be at war with his father if he did that. “I’m a fitness model with a sponsorship, and do quite well, actually.”

Jim’s brow furrowed, a look he always made right before delivering a polarizing argument. “Modeling only lasts as long as youth, and for you, that isn’t much longer. How will you possibly support yourself after that career comes to its natural conclusion?”

“That’s what I keep telling him,” Noah’s dad said, leaning forward. “He’s not thinking about the long term. He’s sitting on a high-dollar education, and yet he’s pissing his life away running around half-naked. That’s no future.”

Silence fell, Noah refusing to enter the debate. Not only did he know he’d never win with the two of them ganging up on him, but he didn’t want to accidentally say something to hint at how he’d earned the majority of his money. There were worse things than being a fitness model, and in his father’s eyes, being a prostitute was probably rock bottom.

Jim studied Noah, those dark eyes calculating. “And when the modeling jobs do stop, what then?”

Noah shrugged. “I haven’t sworn off law—I’m just not sure which branch I’d like to go into. I’d prefer to put guilty men in jail, not keep them out.”

“When you have a family to support, you choose the one that pays,” his dad said with a hard voice. “You choose the one that will set you up for a future.”

Noah took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool. He knew his dad pushed so hard because he cared. Because he worried for both of his kids’ futures. He’d said that before. Noah could understand—after all, his dad was getting up there in years. His days of being able to provide were drawing to a close. But while it came from a place of goodness, it was obtuse at best.

“Your father is right,” Jim said with a silky voice. A sly grin lit up his face. “But we don’t need to convince you of that, do we? That’s your Range Rover out there, is it not? And that’s a Breitling watch on your wrist. Your clothes sell an image, Noah. Just like mine do. It’s an image of monetary success. You like the finer things in life, like we all do. And you have the means to get them. Right now, you can do that by modeling, sure. You’re a smart kid. I’m sure you’re making that angle work for you. But when the money dries up, you’ll need to devote your gifts to more sustainable pursuits, and your father is right—you’ll want to look for something that can support your lifestyle. When that time comes, I hope you’ll knock on my door, Noah.”

“He will,” Noah’s dad said with a stubborn set to his jaw.

“Hey.” Cynthia’s light, musical voice cracked open the pressurized atmosphere in the den.

Noah sucked in a sweet breath as he turned her way. She wore a flowing white dress, accenting her breasts and hugging her curves before cascading down around her legs. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders and down to her middle in a tame, natural wave. A light dusting of makeup enhanced her luminous eyes and high cheekbones, set off by the deep red lipstick on her full lips. She couldn’t have looked more beautiful, and it wasn’t because of the hot outfit. Her aura was haughty, self-important, and, above all, confident. The attitude she projected implied she was the best, or maybe smartest, in the room.

It was absolutely perfect for the situation. He had no idea how she’d known it would be.

She sauntered forward, and her dress swirled around her legs like a live thing. “Hi, Dan, Noah.” Her gaze touched on Jim but slid away just as quickly, her expression unconcerned. The woman could sell you don’t matter better than anyone Noah had ever seen. Jim would hate it. “Sorry to intrude, but Noah mentioned I should stop by this morning so I could borrow his…Fitbit. I’m in the market and wanted to check it out.”

“Yes, of course.” Noah stood, as did Jim.

“Noah, you didn’t introduce your pretty guest.” Jim’s smile was sleazy as his gaze raked over Cynthia’s body.

Something primal awoke in Noah’s middle. Rage welled up, his need to protect Cynthia from Jim’s roaming eyes taking over his being.

He took two easy steps to her side before reaching his arm around her middle and pulling her in close. “This is Cynthia Bell. She’s visiting her parents for Thanksgiving. Cynthia, this is Jim, a partner at Golding, Hill, and Crest. A law firm based primarily out of San Francisco.”

“We’re nationwide,” Jim said, stepping forward to shake her hand. “I’m sure you’ve heard of us.”

She barely touched her fingers to his before pulling her hand away daintily. “It doesn’t ring a bell… But I rarely pay attention to those matters.” Cynthia’s mouth twitched, as though she was trying to smile for the sake of politeness but just couldn’t bring herself to do it for someone so unimportant.

“Hurry back, Noah,” his dad said.

“Nonsense, Dan. Can’t you see he’s busy?” Jim stayed standing, that shrewd gaze following Noah out of the room. “Just remember, Noah.” Noah slowed and looked back. “All men are innocent until proven guilty. The court decides, not us. As long as we provide the best possible defense for our clients, our consciences are clear. Remember that when Cynthia wants an extravagant wedding and a house overlooking the bay. I can help you provide that kind of life.”

Noah guided her out of the room and to the stairs, cold tremors running through his body.

“Ew.” Cynthia’s mouth twisted in disgust. “That guy is gross. I would hate to be his secretary.”

Noah walked her into his room, but hesitated before closing the door. With Jim in the house, he felt stifled. Hunted, almost.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” he asked, not caring about the desperation in his voice. “Do you have time?”

She shrugged. “Sure. I’m with you. My mom will find someone else to do the errands.”

He grabbed her hand and hurried her out of the room again, grabbing his keys as he did so. His dad and Jim were still murmuring in the den, but Noah didn’t slow his steps when they passed the room. Nor did he tell his mother where he was going. Just walked out the front door, helped Cynthia get into his car, and took off down the street.

“That was the boss from your very short career in Lawyer Land, I take it?” she asked.

He reached out and took her hand, not apologizing for threading his fingers with hers. Not making excuses for his need to do so. “Yes. He’s my father’s old friend. They went to school together.”

“I can see why your dad would want to hook you up with him, but yikes. That’s a real blind spot on your old man’s part.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief that she could so clearly read the situation. On impulse, he started to drive toward a spot he knew that overlooked the ocean. “My dad means well.”

“I’m sure he does. My mom would try to marry me off to that guy, despite his age and sleaziness. Although ‘sleazy’ is probably the wrong word for a guy with money…”

“It fits, regardless of his income.”

“True. So what happened? What makes you…like this when he comes around? Did he make a pass at you?”

Noah smiled. “He put me on a case that I shouldn’t have won. My first case, right out of school. I wanted to prove myself, so I put my all into it.”

“And you did win.”

“Yes.”

“So that’s…not good?”

“I shouldn’t have won that case both because of the odds stacked against me and for moral reasons. The man we were defending was a wife-beating white-collar crook who pulled the trigger on having his wife…disposed of.”

Cynthia shifted in her seat, thankfully not letting go of his hand. “What does disposed of mean?”

“Assassinated, cut up, and dumped.”

“Holy…”

“She had proof that he was engaging in illegal activity. She’d threatened to go to the authorities if he didn’t divorce her and give her a large settlement. Basically, she wanted out, and she didn’t want to fight him in court to do it. She probably knew he’d drag it out for years.”

“So he killed her?”

“Had her killed. He didn’t actually do the deed, but there was proof that he arranged it. I couldn’t discredit her in the jurors’ eyes by arguing that her demands for a larger-than-entitled settlement were irrational, because the coroner found out that she’d been pregnant. The large settlement was to help support the baby.”

“Oh my God,” Cynthia breathed as Noah pulled off the road. He took his hand back in order to steer the SUV around the various bushes and overhanging branches, both of them keeping silent as he parked in the secluded spot.

“And you knew, without a doubt, that he’d ordered the killing?” Cynthia pressed.

“Yes. As did the prosecution.”

“So how’d you get him off?”

“With a technicality and a whole lot of charm to convince the jurors that even a mostly nonexistent shadow of a doubt is enough to acquit someone. They bought it, and I won. I let him get away with a disgusting, heinous deed. I put him back into his company so he could continue ripping off his employees, and so he didn’t have to deal with the repercussions of abusing his wife and creating a terrible home for his family. Because of me, justice wasn’t done. And there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t regret it.”