Raven shakes her head. “I’m not. If you don’t grab them, they’re all going to leave on their own, and we’d rather have a powerhouse partner than just limp along.” Walker comes over to join us, and she turns to him. “Tell her I’m right.”
Walker grins. “She’s right.”
We say our goodbyes, and I approach the bar with my American Express card, grateful it doesn’t have a spending limit. Tonight will be expensive, but I don’t care. It was worth every penny.
“I’m ready to pay for this impromptu party,” I tell the bartender. “This was fantastic. You guys really made it a good night.”
The woman behind the bar is sleeved in tattoos. Her hair is purple and her black eyeliner and lips make her scary, but as soon as she smiles, I’m completely disarmed. “Honey, the bill was covered before you arrived. Made one of them pretty upset. She wanted your former firm to cover the cost. Whatever your firm did to you, I hope you reach back and kick them hard in the balls.”
I smile at her enthusiasm. “Wait, who paid?”
The bartender looks at Walker.
“I did. That’s what a good boyfriend does.” He gives me his smoldering look.
“You’re not my boyfriend,” I snark.
“I’m available, if she’s moving on,” the bartender offers.
We all laugh.
“Did he tip you well?” I ask.
“He did, as did most of the people here. I’m telling you, kick those assholes so hard their balls come out their mouths.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” I chuckle.
Walker grabs my hand, and we walk out together.
“Thank you for buying tonight. You didn’t have to do that,” I say.
“I was happy to do it. Really.” He rubs his thumb over my knuckles, and I feel a wave of excitement in my core. He leans in and softly kisses me. My lips open, and his tongue swipes into my mouth, leaving me dizzy with need.
I’d love to bring him home and show him my appreciation for paying for tonight, but my mind knows better, even after a few drinks. “I’m still not going to sleep with you,” I whisper.
“That’s fine. Just come to Whistler with me on Friday.”
“I’ll let you know tomorrow,” I promise.
Clarence holds the door open.
“How many numbers did you get?” I ask.
He cracks a small grin. He looks like he played a tackle on a football team, and I would bet he has an eight-pack under his shirt. He’d have been candy for many of the ladies in my old firm. “A few.” He winks.
“Let me know if you want any background on them.” I look at Ron in the driver’s seat. “How did you do?”
“I got a few numbers.”
I shake my head. Straight, handsome, single men at a party of mostly straight, single, attractive women. Then I ask Walker.
“Zero,” he says. “I didn’t ask, and none of them offered. Those people revere you. They know the firm is in trouble without you. I talked to Raven earlier in the night, and she said several of the partners had been sure your clients were only with the firm for the firm’s name, so they were stunned when all but a small handful fired them on the spot after they learned you were gone. She has all their numbers for you, if you need them.”
My clients want to follow me. I don’t know if that scares me or thrills me. “I’ll let Fiona manage that.”
“Good thinking, because you’ll be in Whistler, where I’m going to convince you to be my wife.”
I roll my eyes. “We’ll see.” I take Walker’s hand. “My mother would be so happy, but once she figured out why we’d done it, she’d go to her grave never speaking to either of us again. And, while there were times I prayed for that, it would devastate me.”
When I wake in the morning, it’s after eight. I’ve slept in. Amazing. I’m going to surprise my mom, take her out to lunch, and spend the afternoon with her. I won’t tell her about Walker. She wouldn’t be able to contain her excitement. She’ll probably spend the day berating me because I was fired. I throw my arms over my eyes and dread telling her that.
I reach over, and my cell phone has been on mute. I have twenty-eight missed calls and over a hundred texts.
“What the hell?”
I sit up and get my bearings. I start looking through the postings and within a few minutes, I find an article that went out over the AP wire about my team walking off the job yesterday after the firm terminated me for fraudulent billing. The article asserts that it seems more likely to be sexual discrimination.
“Oh shit.”
I call Fiona.
“Girlfriend!” she answers.
“What happened to you last night? I thought you were going to come?”
“I had drinks with Greg instead.”
I hold my breath, and my palms begin to sweat. “Okay, let’s start there.”
“He’s in a panic. Your clients have told them to pound sand. They plan to follow you.”
“One of my associates mentioned that last night. She said the partners were sure they would stay because of the prestige of the firm.”
“Stupid men!” Fiona cackles.
I laugh. “I woke to a text this morning that says four associates are leaving to hang their own shingle and have asked me to be the anchor partner.”
“Great. Let them quit and form their own firm, and you can merge together.”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “That seems rife with danger, if you ask me. Maybe if we get the non-solicitation figured out...”
“While Greg says he wasn’t surprised—but I think he’s lying—the other partners were surprised by the associates’ and staff’s response.”
“So was I, honestly,” I tell her. “I always tried to be nice and fair with everyone, but you never really know. The partners are a punitive bunch of assholes. Everyone who came last night will be terminated within a year.”
“Did you see your story made the AP wire?”
“I did catch that.” I shut my eyes. “Now everyone will think the firm fired me for fraudulent billing.”
“No, they won’t,” Fiona corrects me. “The article makes it clear that everyone believes you were fired because you’re a woman.”
“Were you the one who set up the reporter?” I ask.
“I didn’t. I don’t know who works for the AP, but they had interviews from the staff—named quotes. And they have parts of your final words to everyone last night.”
“I didn’t see any reporters there.”
“I like that you pointed out Walker to everyone.” I can hear Fiona smiling. “That gives you and him a boost. Your likability score is through the roof.”
“He wants me to pose as his girlfriend—and eventually marry him.”
“Really... Hmmm…” Fiona says. “I didn’t realize you were involved.”
“We’re not. He needs a fake wife so he can get appointed governor.”
“Ah. Interesting. I know a lot of women who’d volunteer for that job. He’s played with a few of my friends, and they say he’s hung, knows what do to with it, and his tongue is magic. What’s holding you back?”