I woke the next morning and looked around the unfamiliar room. Where was I? The sound of a shower brought me out of my sleepy haze. Jameson. I bolted upright in bed, my heart racing. Why had I slept here? I hadn’t slept at a man’s place in years, and this was not the man to start doing it with now. I gathered my clothes and threw them on, found my purse, and stumbled out of the apartment before Jameson had turned off the shower.

I had just gotten in a cab when my phone rang.

“Where did you go?” Jameson asked.

“Home, where I should have gone last night.” He paused for a long time, and I knew he was choosing his next words carefully.

“You didn’t have to run out of my apartment while I was in the shower,” he chuckled.

“What … were you going to make me pancakes and coffee before you sent me on my way like a good girl?” I said sarcastically.

“I don’t make pancakes,” he said dryly.

“And I don’t do the morning after,” I snapped back.

“Fair enough,” he said. “Glad we got that settled. What time is our appointment with Josh?”

“12:30.”

“Do you want me to just pick you up at your apartment?” he asked. “There is no need for us to both go to the office downtown, just to turn around and head back upstate to see Josh.”

“My apartment is in Chelsea, so it’s not going to save us a lot of time, but sure.”

“Great, text me the address. I’ll be there in an hour and a half.” Jameson disconnected the call before I could respond. Typical Jameson. He had to get the last word in and wasn’t going to give me a chance to say otherwise.

I texted Kate while the cab driver made his way through the early morning traffic toward my apartment.

Me: I have so much to tell you! We need to do dinner, ASAP.

I hadn’t seen Kate since the night I met Jameson, but she’d love all the new juicy details with work and everything else.

Kate: Yessssss! Let’s go tonight.

Our drive to and from the prison to see Josh was going to take most of the day, but as long as we planned for a late dinner it should work.

Me: All right, done! Can you do 8:30?

Kate: That works. Sushi?

Me: You know I’ll never turn down sushi.

Kate: Awesome! See you tonight!

While I showered and got ready, I thought about our meeting with Josh and the many ways it could go wrong. From the very beginning, Josh had only been willing to work with me. He would rarely even say anything when Mark was in the room, so eventually I started making the trips to visit him by myself. I had serious doubts it would be any different with Jameson. I’d told him so half a dozen times, but he still insisted on meeting Josh before the trial.

We were going to drive two hours for what I had no doubt would be a five-minute meeting and then drive back. Josh was being housed at the Green Haven Correctional Facility until his trial. Although it was farther away, we had asked the judge for that location specifically, away from the city, where fewer other inmates would know who Josh was, where we felt he would be happier and safer until the trial. We had tried and failed to get him put on house arrest; even his father’s name and money couldn’t sway the judge on that one.

I had just finished putting on my makeup when the doorman rang to let me know Jameson had arrived. I slipped on my heels, grabbed my briefcase and suit jacket, and headed out the door. Jameson was idling at the curb in a dark blue Mercedes that looked brand-new.

“Is this your car?” I asked as I got in, the black leather seats soft and supple. The black and chrome details were sleek and sophisticated, yet masculine.

“Yes, I had just bought it when I got the offer here,” he said. “I wasn’t about to leave her behind. This is the first time I’ve driven it since I’ve been here.” He ran his hand over the leather-covered steering wheel the same way he’d run his hand over my ass, and I had to stifle a laugh.

“It’s very nice.”

“Nice? This is a Mercedes-Maybach S600 sedan, which cost me over $200,000.”

“I said ‘very nice’!” I laughed. “I’m sorry … I don’t know much about cars. Where was this fancy car the night we met?”

“It wasn’t here yet. It took longer to ship it across the country than I would have liked.”

“I thought maybe you were one of those rich New Yorkers who’d never learned to drive because they always had a driver.”

“Never, I love to drive. I had three other cars in L.A, but in a city like New York, it just seemed like a waste to pay for parking when I’d hardly ever get to drive them, so I just kept my favorite.”

“Why on Earth do you need four cars?” I asked, as Jameson eased out into the traffic and headed north.

“No one needs four cars, Olivia, but when you have lots of disposable income and an interest in well-made cars, four is just the beginning.”

“That is ridiculous.”

“Come on, I’m sure a posh apartment in Chelsea isn’t cheap, but there has to be something else you spend your money on.”

My stomach tightened for a second. There was something I spent a lot of money on, but it was filed under the list of things I was never going to tell Jameson.

“Fine...” I sighed dramatically. “I have a lot of shoes. I also buy a lot of art and donate to galleries around the city. Painting was one of my first loves.” I don’t know what made me divulge that certain piece of information.

“Do you still paint?”

“No, I haven’t in years.”

“Why did you stop?” Damn it, he was asking a lot of questions that were making me squirm. He didn’t know how much his seemingly innocent questions were affecting me. I rarely told anyone about my painting, so I didn’t have the lies prepared like I did for everything else.

“I didn’t have time in law school, and then it kind of just faded after that. Plus, it didn’t take me very long to figure out I didn’t have the talent to make any money with art. So now I just admire other’s work and donate to help support the dreams of young artists.”

I turned and looked out the window and hoped we were done with this subject. I didn’t know how many more questions about my past I could dodge. I was confident in my lies. I knew Jameson would’ve done his research about me, just like I’d done about him. But he was searching for Olivia Roberts, and there was no connection to powerhouse attorney Olivia Roberts and my sordid past. I’d made sure of that.

I was still kicking myself for letting my accent come out in a moment of weakness. I hadn’t done that in years. But if he went searching for me in Kentucky, he’d find a high school graduation record for an Olivia Roberts in 1999 and little else. A shiver ran down my spine as I thought of what he’d find if he knew the right places to look.

I suddenly realized Jameson was saying something, but I was so lost in my own thoughts I didn’t have a clue what. He paused and glanced my way, and I realized he must’ve asked me a question.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear a word you just said,” I admitted sheepishly.

“I just asked if Josh knows I’m coming?” he said.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He would’ve refused the meeting if he knew you were. He hasn’t even let Mark come visit since our first meeting, and that was ages ago.”

“Why do you cater to a punk-ass rich kid?”

“It’s not catering, it’s getting my job done. He refuses to talk unless it’s just me, and I don’t have time to drag information out of him. If meeting with him alone is how I get what I need, then so be it.”

“It’s probably because he wants to fuck you,” Jameson snorted.

“Who gives a shit? I’m here to win a case. I don’t care if the little perv jerks off to the thought of me in the shower, as long as I get the information I need to keep his rich ass out of prison for the rest of his life.”

“I think he did it.”

“What?” I turned in my seat so I could fully face Jameson. “You can’t say that.”

“I just did.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit unethical to work on a case when you don’t believe in the outcome you’re fighting for?”

“Don’t get me started on the ethics of being a defense attorney,” he said.

“Oh no, please enlighten me. What does the great James Beck think about ethics and law?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he laughed and launched into a monologue about the corrupt judicial system, lying lawyers, and state attorneys who are getting paid to bring certain cases to court. We were almost to the prison by the time we had finished debating his points.

“So remind me why you are in this business again?” I laughed as Jameson pulled into the parking lot. His car was clearly out of place here, the next nicest vehicle was a Lexus sedan that looked like it hadn’t been washed in years. “You sure your baby is going to be okay out here?” I teased as he pulled into a spot in the very corner of the lot, well clear of any other cars.

“Are you going to be okay walking the extra distance in those shoes?” he said, eyeing my heels.

“I walk in heels all the time. I’ll be fine.” I shrugged and got out of the car. All the guards greeted me by name, and we exchanged pleasantries.

“How often do you come here?” Jameson whispered in my ear, after following me through the metal detector.

“At least once a month, but more often when I first took the case,” I said. We walked down a long hallway and into a small room. Josh was already in the room, per the instructions I’d left when I’d called and scheduled our visit. He smiled when he saw me through the glass window in the door, but it quickly faded into a scowl when Jameson appeared behind me.

“Who the fuck is this?” Josh spat out.

“It’s good to see you too, Josh,” I said sarcastically, as I sat down across the table from him, Jameson taking the seat beside me. “This is James Beck. He’ll be working the case with me from now on.”

“Well, we might as well end this meeting right now,” Josh said, looking around the room.

“Mr. Beck,” I said. “Can you give us a few moments alone?” Jameson looked at me like I had just suggested he jump in the Hudson River in January, but I didn’t falter. He shook his head and rose, letting the door slam shut behind him.

“Why is he here?” Josh asked.

“I’m as unhappy about him being on this case as you are,” I said, then reconsidered, because admitting my displeasure wasn’t going to help me right now. “Although, he’s probably the best defense attorney in the country, and you should be praising the gods that he came to New York when he did.”

“I thought you were the best,” he sneered. “Isn’t that why we hired you?”

“Listen, you little asshole,” I said, standing up and leaning my hands on the table. “We are both damn good attorneys and you’d be lucky to have either one of us, but instead you have both of us. The chances of you getting a not guilty verdict, or at least avoiding life in prison, go up significantly with both of us at your table, but you must be able to work with him. Sneering at him the whole time won’t do you any good. In case you forgot, we’re here to help you,” I finished with a huff.

“Whoa, easy there,” Josh said. “I think someone needs to get laid.” I ignored him.

“Are we clear? Can I have Mr. Beck come back in?”

“He can come in, and I’ll tell him whatever you want if you tell me when the last time was.”

“I’m not bargaining with you, Josh. My personal life is none of your business.”

“If I have to spend twenty-three out of twenty-four hours in a cell by myself, I might as well at least have a good image of you to keep me company,” he said arrogantly.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m done.” I picked up my briefcase. “Have fun spending the rest of your life in here.” I turned and walked toward the door.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he said, all cockiness gone from his voice. “Don’t go, please don’t give up on me.” He sounded like a scared little boy now. I sat my bag back down.

“I know before all this shit happened, you were on top of the world and could do and say whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted, but things are different now, Josh. Like it or not, you need our help.”

“I know,” he whispered. “Please help me. I can’t stay here forever.” His voice cracked, and I knew if he lifted his head and looked at me, I’d see tears in his eyes.

“We’re going to help you,” I said softly. “Both of us.”