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Griffin

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“I hate him and I hired you to make him understand just how deep that hatred runs.”

I look across the conference table at Morgan Tresoni. She’s attractive if you’re into women who spend their days shopping, sipping over-priced cocktails and bashing their almost-ex-husband to anyone who will listen.

I’m paid to listen, so I nod. “I was under the impression that you hired me to represent you in your divorce, Morgan. This is the third time we’ve been through this process, is it not? You know how this works. You can hate him as much as you want, but you need to remain focused on the bigger picture.”

“The bigger picture?” She twirls one of her long red curls around her index finger. “What is the bigger picture, Griffin?”

I look directly into her green eyes. “Your divorce. If you’re civil to Marco, this entire process will be over before you know it and you can move on with your life.”

“I have moved on,” she blurts back with a toss of her hair over her shoulder. “I’m already dating.”

I’m not surprised. Morgan has been a regular client for the past few years. She was one of my first appointments when I launched this practice with my friend and college roommate Dylan Colt.

“We’re going to meet with Marco and his attorney next week to discuss the settlement.” I stress the next sentence with a change in my tone. “Do not leave the country, Morgan. You have to be at that meeting. I don’t want a repeat of what happened with Chuck.”

The mention of her second husband brings a scowl to her face. “You promised you’d never say his name again. I pay you not to say his name.”

The continual reminders of why she pays me grate on my last nerve. “You pay me to keep your bank account well above seven figures. Be available for this meeting, or Marco will come out on top.”

She pushes back from the table with exaggerated effort. Unnecessary drama is one of the unfortunate drawbacks of being a divorce attorney. “Fine.”

“Stay close to your phone.” I stand and button my suit jacket. “I’ll have you unattached before you know it.”

***

I walk Morgan to the reception area while I listen to her talk about her schedule for the remainder of the day. I don’t find any of it interesting, but I say goodbye to her with a smile.

I don’t judge the people who hire me. I’ve never been married so I have no idea how difficult a journey that is. My parents toughed it out for years, but even they couldn’t make it to the finish line.

I stand next to the reception desk waiting for Joyce to finish up a call. She was hired on as a receptionist soon after we launched the firm. We wanted someone with a trusting appearance and the ability to calm down emotional clients who stop in looking for a referral.

Since then, Joyce has transitioned into the role of my primary assistant. Today, she just so happens to be filling in for the regular receptionist, Fiona, who is on a two-week vacation that Dylan approved. I was against it initially, but since his dick knows her better than any part of my body ever will, I deferred to him on that.

Joyce ends the call with a promise of a follow-up later in the week. It’s an approach that works well when someone is considering leaving his or her spouse. It’s free for a caller to chat with the receptionist. They outline the basics to potential clients before I’m brought in for a preliminary consultation.

“Is Mrs. Tresoni behaving herself?” Joyce inches up from her seat to watch Morgan as she leaves through the frosted glass doors.

“Does she ever?” I lean against the reception desk. “Did you take care of the matter from earlier?”

“The matter from earlier?” Her gaze is now locked to a pile of mail. “You’re going to need to be more specific. I have a lot going on today, Griffin.”

“Piper Ellis.” I drag my thoughts back to hours ago when I walked into the office to the sight of a breathtaking brunette in a silver dress. At first, I assumed she was a client who had left her husband after a night of partying and arguing.

I was pleased when I realized that my initial assessment was wrong. Piper Ellis was the victim of a one-night stand gone wrong. It happens. Trusting anyone in this city is a mistake. Piper learned that lesson the hard way.

“Piper,” she says her name with a sigh. “That girl is a sweetheart.”

“Were you able to track down the man responsible for robbing her?” I ask because my curiosity goes beyond the obvious. Naturally, I’d like to know the identity of the man who left my business card behind, but I’m more concerned with how Piper is doing. It can’t be easy putting your trust in someone who fucks you over, both in a literal and figurative sense.

“No.” She shakes her head. “We traced her steps back to the hotel she had been at, but there was no sign of that bastard and he paid cash for the room. We did luck out though.”

I roll my hand in the air, signaling for her to get to the point.

“One of the hotel employees found her wallet and her phone in the trash in the kitchen. The only thing left in the wallet was her driver’s license. Her phone’s screen was smashed up pretty good, but she has it back.”

“The money and credit cards were cleared out?”

She nods. “Piper said she had left her credit card at home so a small blessing on that front. She had less than fifty dollars in the wallet and the watch she was wearing isn’t worth much. Overall, her loss is minimal.”

The financial loss she suffered may be restricted to a few dollars and the cost of a replacement phone and watch, but I sense that the blow to her ego and sense of security is substantial.

“Did she make it home alright?”

“We said goodbye at the hotel after she used my phone to call the police to tell them not to bother coming here. She’s going to stop at the local precinct and file a report.” She lifts her gaze to my face. “I gave her money for cab fare. She said she was going home to change her clothes and then to work.”

Work. Again, my curiosity burns so I ask. “Where does she work?”

“She has a job at a place called the Grant Gallery.” She flips open the company check pad. “I’m writing myself a check to cover the cab fare to the hotel and back, along with the money I gave Piper. I’ll need you to sign this.”

“Give yourself an extra hundred for your trouble, Joyce,” I say to her surprise. I’m feeling extra generous today. We helped out a damsel in distress. What better way is there to start the week than that?