by Ally Decker
Dean shook his head. "It's fine, don't worry about it. It just took me by surprise, that's all."
"Uh-uh," was Alicia's only comment before she circled her arm over his elbow. "Okay, come on, you get a pass tonight. We're leaving."
He should probably protest, but he had no desire to. "Yes, Ma'am."
Alicia grinned. "That's more like it. I approve."
"You know that, technically, I am your boss, right?"
"Semantics."
Dean laughed and led her out of the room, forcing himself not to look around. He didn't want to see Marissa again.
He didn't.
CHAPTER THREE
Monday morning, as Marissa approached her office, she noticed Justin Woodley waiting for her inside. She gritted her teeth. She'd spent the entire weekend looking for a way to save her family while also trying not to think about Dean. All it got her was a low-level headache she was still nursing.
And now this.
Her assistant, Paris, glanced down at her desk.
"He wouldn't stay outside."
Marissa nodded. Sounds like him. She paused to look through the notes Paris handed her, dragging it out. She didn't know what he wanted, but she had a pretty good idea, and she needed to brace herself, or she was going to punch him in his perfect teeth the moment he started to gloat.
"Please, bring me a cup of coffee," she told Paris, and then she entered the office.
"Hello, Justin. What brings you here?"
He didn't even get up from the chair. "Good morning. I hope you don't mind I let myself in."
"It's fine." She sat down behind her desk. "I'll remember we have an open door policy if I ever feel like visiting your office."
He smiled, seemingly not getting the jab. "Come over anytime. I'm always happy to help."
I'd rather run naked through Times Square, Marissa thought as she returned the smile. "Since you came here for my help today, what can I do for you?"
"Oh, nothing, really." He waved his hand. "I thought you might have some more information on the Dalio Developments case. My team is going through the files right now, but since the case is clearly important to you…"
"You should ask Sidney about it. After all, she was supposed to handle it," she cut in. "It's a strong case and a possible big win." Marissa cared about a win for the clients, but she wasn't above pointing out it would be a big one for Justin, too, if that would make him try harder.
"We're tossing around ideas for an appropriate settlement offer."
She leaned on her elbows over her desk. "Are you even considering a proper trial?"
He had the nerve to smirk at her, the bastard. "It won't go to court. Dalio Developments can't afford the public outcry over this."
It might be true, but if they weren't going to at least do a basic trial prep, they were more likely to settle for less. And Dalio would find out about this, since it wasn't hard to figure out.
"We have different approaches to our work," she said after the silence slid into uncomfortable. "If you ever need help with preparing the best case, you know where to find me. Otherwise, I think you have a handle on your approach."
There was a twitch of his cheek that told her he sensed the blow this time. He was good at hiding it, but she'd had a lot of chances to watch him over the years, and she'd learned that tick. It made her happier than she would admit to anyone, but she thought she was allowed that bit of pettiness.
He got the case. The least she could get was a little personal satisfaction.
***
Marissa went to lunch with her cousin on Wednesday with a heavy heart. Talia, her mom, and the rest of the plaintiffs were supposed to meet with Woodley's team in the morning, and Marissa dreaded hearing what the initial offer was.
She was right.
"It's not even enough to cover the cost of fixing everything around the house!" Talia said, twirling her fork between her fingers. "Sure, the lump sum looks big at first glance, but the amount of money each household would get is way too low."
Marissa looked down at her plate. It had taken so much time and effort to even convince some of the plaintiffs to join the suit. And now, after everything, they were getting screwed.
"We need more money," Talia went on. "We're still paying dad's old medical bills, and I…" Her shoulders dropped. "We need more money, but I'm afraid if we protest too much, they may drop us from the suit. And there's no way we can afford a separate trial."
Marissa knew all that, and she'd tried her best to figure out the way to fix this, but—
Damn. She sat up straight. How could she have missed it?
"I have an idea."
***
It might be the worst idea she could've ever come up with, but they were out of options, so it didn't matter at this point.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Talia asked, stopping at her side when Marissa hesitated right before the building's front entrance, earning a few glares and huffs from people walking by.
No, Marissa wanted to tell her. No, I'm not. So many things could go wrong, from Dean's reaction to Marissa's future at Willis, Palmer, and Singer, if her involvement would ever come to light.
"Let's go inside," she said and pushed the door open.
They'd set the appointment in Talia's name, so no one at the firm knew Marissa was coming. That had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now… now she wasn't so sure.
She had told Talia to request a meeting with Dean, because Marissa wouldn't be surprised if Nate and Shawn flat out refused to work for her. That thought brought a hollow feeling to her stomach, because there had been a time when these two had been her close friends, too, not just Dean's. But the three men had had the whole "all for one, one for all" thing going on way before she'd met them, so it had come as no surprise when they'd severed ties with her after she and Dean had split. She'd never expected anything different, really.
It didn't mean it hadn't hurt.
It did mean that Dean was her and Talia's only option, though.
Marissa tightened the grip on the file folders she was holding as they rode their way up in the elevator. It was going to be fine. They were here as the potential clients, nothing more.
The door opened, and she headed straight to the matte-glass doors, with Foster, Young, and Urban, New York City Fixers spelled on them. Talia followed right behind her.
Marissa couldn't help being curious, trying to take everything in as she looked around. At first glance, the decor appeared similar to any law firm, and she wondered if it'd been done on purpose, or if the three founders were more accustomed to certain things than they'd realized.
She didn't have a lot of time to look around, though, as her gaze fell on a person behind the desk right away.
She recognized the woman from the party. Alicia Cordero.
Marissa raised her chin as she walked up to the desk. She'd been hoping to avoid that particular encounter again, but Dean having "co-workers" as his type would not deter her from the plan.
The woman's surprised look gave Marissa a flash of satisfaction she didn't even try to deny. It was better than wallowing in self-pity.
"Good morning. We're here to see Dean Young," she said with a smile perfected over the years. "We have an appointment at ten."
"Good morning." Alicia nodded, schooling her expression, but Marissa didn't miss that her smile toward Talia was much warmer than the one she offered her.
It was fine. Marissa was prepared for this whole thing to be awkward all around. She'd deal.
Of course, that was also the moment when the door down the hall opened, and a few seconds later Shawn and Nate appeared, pausing in unison when they noticed Talia and Marissa. It took only a moment for them to recognize her, and then she was greeted with matching frowns.
God, what a disaster. She could only hope it was going to be worth it down the road, because she was going to need a lot of cocktails to get her through it. Ice cream, too.
Alicia was the first one who remembere
d how to speak.
"Please, take a seat. Mr. Young will be with you in a few minutes," she said with her gaze trained on Talia.
"Of course, thank you," Talia said, nodding at Alicia before glancing at Shawn and Nate as she reached the couch. "Good morning."
That finally seemed to break the men from their stupor.
"Good morning," Shawn told her, Nate echoing him a moment later. Both glanced at Marissa as if to include her in their greeting without having to specifically address her. How convenient.
She felt the air getting heavier with each second as she sat there and stared at the wall. She pretended not to notice how they exchanged looks, and after a second, Nate headed down the other side of the corridor while Shawn sighed and came up to Alicia.
"Recheck my twelve o'clock appointment, please. They weren't sure they were going to make it, and I need to know if I have to…"
Marissa tuned him out and concentrated on her fast-beating heart and on trying not to stare down the corridor leading to what she guessed was Dean's office.
Talia leaned closer and whispered, "Maybe we should go."
"No," Marissa protested just as quietly, but before she could say anything else, Dean appeared at the end of the hall. Nate was stepping closely behind him with a frown.
Dean's expression was blank, but somehow it still hurt more than anything else Nate, or Shawn, or even Alicia, could do to her.
Marissa stood up—Talia following suit—as Dean came closer.
"Good morning," he said, addressing them both, but, like his partners, he didn't give Marissa much attention. He and Talia exchanged names and nice to meet yous, and then Dean gestured them to where he came from. "Please, follow me."
Marissa felt as if she was in a law firm representing the other side, and she was here to close the deal everyone around here hated. Nate especially didn't even try to hide how unhappy he was as he watched them go.
Shawn's "What the hell?" was the last thing she heard before Dean closed the door to his office and motioned them to take a seat on the couch before sitting on the opposite chair.
"Ms. Addams, I assume Ms. Ratner is your lawyer—"
Talia shook her head, but Marissa spoke up first. "I'm not here as a lawyer. Talia is my cousin."
Dean raised his eyebrows before nodding. "I see. Please, tell me what the problem is, then."
After exchanging glances with Marissa, Talia finally sagged against the seat and started talking.
"We—me and my mom, but also a bunch of other people from our neighborhood—are suing Dalio Developments, a company that sells houses and apartments in our area. We bought our home from them three years ago. Now there are cracks on the walls, and we've discovered faulty wiring, and a few other issues. All because they used cheap materials and lied to the buyers about their quality." Talia shrugged. "We thought it would be a pretty cut and dry thing, but the developer has to have friends in high places, because it's been an uphill battle. Finally, we decided to team up with our neighbors and sue the company together. We went to Willis, Palmer, and Singer, since Marissa works there…" Talia glanced at her before looking back at Dean. "Unfortunately, it got complicated."
He was noting something down, but looked up when Talia hesitated. "Complicated how?"
Marissa covered her stomach with her hand as she glanced down at the folder she had in her lap.
"The lawyer who ended up representing the case is proposing a settlement offer that's way too low, and he's pushing to settle quickly. Talia and her mom both feel they will be in a difficult spot if the majority of plaintiffs agree to settle for less. I don't want them to be forced to settle, but being the hold-outs in a case like this doesn't do them any good either."
Dean nodded. "They could end up being dropped from the suit."
"Exactly."
"What do you want my firm to do here, then?" he asked, and while he glanced between the two of them as he did so, it was also clear that he knew who suggested the idea.
"We were hoping for something that would make them willing to settle for a fair price, not pittance money. A lot of people invested their life savings, went into debt… They need compensation. But without leverage and with hurried negotiations, their chances aren't good."
"No, they're not." Dean looked at Talia again. "How many people are suing?"
"Twelve, my mom and me included," she said. "We had to convince some of them to step forward, and they weren't sure to begin with. They may take whatever offer they get, just because they never actually expected to get much of anything."
"What makes you think you have a strong case?" Dean asked Marissa, and she straightened in her chair. He didn't sound accusatory, exactly, but she still felt the need to defend herself.
"We have photographic evidence, the testimony of one of the electricians working for the project, a few reports that conveniently went missing from their records," she said, putting the big folder on the coffee table between them. "That's only some of the documents I had copies of."
He raised his eyebrows. "It should be enough to get the leverage in the settlement proceedings."
"Sadly, it isn't considered so." Marissa took a deep breath. "Honestly, what I was hoping for, here, was something that could be used against Dalio. Something that would make them shut up and write the big checks."
Dean opened his mouth again, but she was pretty sure what he was going to say, so she beat him to it.
"If I thought our investigation would turn up enough material, I wouldn't be here." Woodley and his team weren't going to do much more than what had already been done, and they definitely weren't going to upturn every stone, not like she expected Dean and his people to do.
Dean nodded at that. "I can imagine."
Marissa wondered what he meant—her firm not doing a proper job, or her not coming here if she wasn't in a truly tough spot. Maybe both.
At least he didn't straight up tell her "I told you so". That was something.
"Will you help us?" Talia spoke up, breaking the uncomfortable silence, and Marissa swallowed a sigh of relief. She really didn't want to be the one who asked that question. Her pride had already taken a hit by her coming here in the first place.
She hadn't realized she held her breath until his soft reply unlocked her throat.
"I will."
CHAPTER FOUR
Dean grunted when Nate's glove connected with his chin.
"Second time tonight," his friend pointed out, as if Dean could have somehow missed it.
He stepped to the corner of the mat and grabbed clumsily for a bottle of water. "You're getting better, so it's bound to happen."
"It's been happening every once in a while, but never twice on the same day." Nate took a big gulp of water as well. "I hope you're less in denial than you appear to be."
Dean shrugged. "I got you, what, five times? I think I'm safely in the clear."
"Denial, then," Nate muttered and shook his head.
"I don't want to talk about it."
He didn't even want to think about Marissa, let alone talk about her. And he wished Nate would back off—he and Shawn had tried to give him a lecture the second Marissa and Talia left, but luckily, Dean's next appointment saved him from his best friends.
Nate had made him commit to a sparring session in the evening, though, and here they were, in their apartment building's gym. They'd used to train a lot here, but ever since Shawn had started training in a boxing gym owned by Alicia's family, they all spent more time over there instead. Still, the gym in their building was closer, so sometimes it was easier to come here to decompress and not think about whatever was on their mind.
But Nate apparently had forgotten that memo, pushy bastard.
"Listen, running into your ex when you're not even over her is—"
"I'm over her," Dean cut in before tossing the empty bottle towards his gym bag by the wall. He didn't need to look at his friend to know he didn't believe him, but Dean didn't care. He was over Marissa.
Dean shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it. We're here to train," he added, coming up to the middle of the mat and raising his eyebrows at Nate, who narrowed his eyes at him for a second, but then shrugged.
"Fine, have it your way. Fists speak louder than words or something like that."
Dean snorted, but he managed to relax slightly, and for the next thirty minutes, he focused on the exercise, nothing else. He didn't think about Marissa at all until he was back in his apartment and saw the folder with the Dalio case files he'd left on the kitchen island earlier on.
She hadn't changed much, apart from the hair. He'd noticed that at the party, but it really hit home when she sat on the other side of his desk and discussed the case. There'd been moments when it felt painfully familiar, doing this with her, like hundreds of times in the past. Watching her mind at work, and having their back and forth, had been one of his favorite things to do.
It used to turn him on like nobody's business, too.
The case, he told himself as he headed to the bathroom. Focus on the case.
Destroyed homes worked on an emotional level, so Dean would definitely have used that on the jury, and he knew she would have as well. "It's all about how you make them feel" was one of the most-repeated rules among the associates at Willis, Palmer, and Singer—and one of the few Dean and his friends had taken with them when they left.
In this case, destroyed homes meant a loss of security, an invasion of personal space. Broken trust. Spiraling into debt to make the payments while your dream house was breaking apart.
It wasn't good enough, though. People were tired of stories like that, and home-owning and debt weren't attractive enough. It wasn't the way to interest people at large and media in particular. And they needed something to go viral, something that would be impossible to miss once it got out.
Dean didn't know what it could be yet, but from what Marissa had said, it was the only thing that could shake things up enough to make the lawyer in charge of the case actually try for a bigger deal.
