Page 103 of Forgotten Prejudice

“Then I assume Elliot’s good taste ends in fashion.” The man was a model. “Because this clock is nothing but hideous,” I said, earning a lingering glare from Daniel.

“Sometimes I wonder how I haven’t fired you yet.”

“Because I’m your best lawyer.” I smirked. “It’s also why you wanted me on this case, didn’t you? You didn’t just offer to help your son’s friend for good measure; you wanted to win it. Not that I blame you. The publicity our company will get starting tomorrow will be unprecedented.”

Daniel crossed his arms and studied me carefully before his poker face broke, and he smiled. “That’s your problem, Soren. You think every good deed comes with a hidden motive.”

“’Cause it does.” I shrugged, my eyes back on the clock.

“It doesn’t. We took this case to help an innocent guy.”

Innocent? Please. The only thing the prosecutor lacked was a picture of Camilo with the gun in his hand.

“But let’s get back to the point. Tomorrow, the trial starts, and I want to make sure we’re ready,” Daniel said, his eyes focused on me.

“We’re as ready as we can be. Although, it would have helped if you pulled your connection in the DA’s office.” Well, I did pull mine, but I was less likable than Daniel. “That snake Christian already buttered up the state’s prosecutor. Not to mention he had his hand in picking the freaking judge.” Christian, as in Christian W. Rogers, the victim’s father, who just happened to be one of the richest men in the world. Ha. That man’s wealth made me look poor.

“You’ll manage just fine, as you have many times before,” Daniel said, ignoring my whining.

“Of course, but it would be much better with a bit of help.” I side-eyed him, and he sighed.

“I already told you we need to keep this trial clean. We don’t want any shade added to our name.”

That made me snort. “Then how about not taking on the most publicized trial in the last decade? We’re going head-to-head with Christian W. Rogers. Not even you can pretend his name doesn’t make you lose sleep.”

Daniel’s face didn’t give away his thoughts, but I already knew what he was thinking. It was what we all thought—this trial was going to be a bloodbath, and my job was to make sure it wasn’t my client’s blood that ended up on the courtroom floor.

“Soren—”

“There’s no reason to worry, Daniel,” I said, standing up and buttoning my suit jacket. “Because I’m not going to lose.”

He shook his head, his eyes giving away his tiredness. “At least you’re confident.”

“I wouldn’t be a defense attorney if not.”

He rolled his eyes at me, which he often did. “But why are you standing? I still wanted to go over some details with you.”

“No can do. I’ve got another meeting I’m already late for,” I quickly said and got out of his office before he could complain about my attitude. We already knew I never listened to a word he said. Besides, I had an important guest waiting for me in my office. A guest I’d kept waiting for far too long.

My temporary office was on a different floor, so I waited for the elevator to arrive. Once it did, I got in. Thankfully, it was empty, and I took a moment to examine myself in the mirror. Everything was in place—from my suit to my hair, I looked as perfect as I could be. It helped ease my mind after being forced to sit in an office with that hideous clock for the last half hour.

Fourteen.

Thirteen.

Twelve.

Eleven.

I counted the floors until the elevator stopped, and I stepped out and walked straight to my new office. It was a complete change from my fifty-seventh-floor office in NYC, the one I had used for the past eight and a half years. But the same as always, Ashton Sage somehow managed to interrupt my life without even meaning to do so. With the lift of a finger or, in his case, a phone, he shifted my routine. One moment, I was working on a major case in New York, et voilà, there I was, back in LA, ready to save one of the juveniles Ashton had decided to adopt years ago. Only God knew what went on inside that head of his, and if it weren’t for him making the call himself, I’d probably have refused it.

“I thought you got rid of that horrid habit,” I tsked after entering my office to find Ashton biting on the tip of his nail.

The door hadn’t even closed behind me, and he’d already jumped to his feet. “I’ve been waiting here for over forty minutes.”

“Have you?” I asked, my lips curling as I moved to sit behind my desk and grabbed my glasses I’d left on it earlier.

His jaw tensed as a vivid line formed between his pinched brows. “You did it on purpose.”