by Ally Decker
Marissa hadn't used his name, but Dean would bet that it was Woodley, the biggest settlement-chaser among the associates back in the day. He was probably a junior partner now, like Marissa.
Dean would've been one, too, by now, if he'd stayed.
He'd never regretted his decision to leave, though. Even if ultimately it had cost him the relationship he'd thought would last forever.
***
Two days later, Dean had finished the latest brief on the Tomilsen case and checked the time. Four twenty-five. He had five minutes before the meeting with Marissa and Talia.
He gathered all the files spread on his desk onto one pile and then moved the ones related to the Dalio case to the coffee table. When he was brainstorming or going over the plans with the clients, he preferred for all of them to be comfortable and not separated by his desk.
There was a current right under his skin, the energy he often felt whenever he got excited about the case. It was an adrenaline jump at a clear challenge, and it was moments like this that closely resembled his first career—the few years he'd spent in the Army. After leaving the military behind, he'd chased that rush to law school and then all the way to one of the top law firms in New York, but finally found a better—the best, really—fit, right where he was now.
His phone rang for two seconds, Alicia's way to let him know his next appointment was there in the lobby.
Dean looked around his office one more time before heading to the door. After four years of no contact between them, he sure as hell was eager to see Marissa again after meeting her two times in less than two weeks already. But there was no fighting it, he knew that by now. It was something he had to learn to accept about himself—he would never be indifferent where she was concerned.
When he walked to the lobby, Marissa and Talia stood up. After they exchanged greetings, and everyone told Alicia what they'd like to drink, Dean led both women to his office and gestured at the couch.
"Please, take a seat."
He sat down on the armchair facing them and picked up the files and the pad he left there earlier.
"I've reviewed the material you gave me, and I do believe the case is strong as it is," he started before glancing at Marissa. "I know you don't need me to tell you that, but I'm just putting it out there. If the trial did happen, your chances would be really good."
He said it mostly for Talia's sake, who—although perfectly willing to go along with Marissa's plan—was obviously nervous about this whole thing. He could only imagine what Woodley was feeding the plaintiffs to push them towards taking the deal.
Talia did seem to relax slightly, but Marissa frowned. "Your plan is not to push for a trial, though, is it?"
He shook his head. "No. That plan would have to be pointed at your own lawyer and it would be unlikely to succeed. We don't need to convince your lawyer first. We need to convince the public, so the media would seed the doubt into everyone on your side of the fence who wants to settle as fast as possible. We want Dalio in the defense position and the possibility of the trial wouldn't be enough at this point, since they'd call the bluff."
Marissa nodded. "Good. There's no way Woodley would stick it out till the end. He'd only push the plaintiffs more."
"I know, I remember," Dean said and there was something on Marissa's face for a moment—a flash of hurt, maybe. Or maybe he was reading way too much into tense lines on her face.
"What's your plan, then, exactly?"
"I've started with the easiest thing." Dean looked down on the list in his folder. "I contacted an investigative journalist I know and gave him a story about paying off the electrician—"
"We've tried involving the press, but it didn't work," Marissa cut in.
"A lot of people owe me favors. The story will be done. The guy I talked to even seemed to think he could connect it to something else he'd heard about, so he got excited. But," Dean added, "it's only a start. A story like that won't get a lot of buzz, so even though it's something, it's not enough."
"What is, then?" Talia asked, but Marissa answered before he could.
"Emotions. We need to make people feel."
Dean nodded, trying to hide his smile. "Exactly."
"How?"
He handed Talia a list of names he'd prepared. "You told me twelve people are suing, and I can't reach out to them now without blowing the whole thing off, but there are many more people affected." He nodded at the list. "These are the names I got from some of the files, and I underlined some of them. I picked a few I think would make the greatest impression—two low-income families with kids, one single mother, one elderly couple taking care of their disabled son. Can you tell me why they said no to joining your suit?"
"They are all renters," Talia said before looking at Marissa. "You told us it would murk things up."
"It would." Marissa nodded. "Renting comes with different issues on both sides, as well as a different level of compensation. It would be a mess to sort it out, even outside of the court, and Dalio would get lower settlements for owners, simply because the differences between the sums for renters and owners would be already starkly different."
He could see her point, but he couldn't help feeling apprehensive on behalf of the renters. As if hearing him, she raised her chin slightly and looked him straight in the eyes. Fuck, she took his breath away in moments like this.
"That's why I offered to make another case for them. I believed we could have two separate suits, and Dalio would be at a disadvantage like this, not the other way around. But most of them weren't interested." She took the list from Talia. "They are too afraid to fight, because they have no place to go if they got evicted. And we know it could happen, one way or another. Dalio would find a way to make their lives difficult until the settlement or trial, and these people have enough trouble already, they don't need any more. Jessica Chaplin, the single mother, was the only one I got anywhere with, but she couldn't afford to risk it, either."
"Okay, so she will be the first one I reach out to." Dean noted Jessica Chaplin's name. "She's a military widow with a four-year-old daughter. If she agrees to talk to the media, she can give us what we need and get what she needs, too, without paying anything. Dalio will be begging her to let them pay to keep her quiet, but it will be too late."
Marissa nodded. "This kind of a story can go viral."
"Exactly." He smiled at her, and when she answered in kind, he realized it was the first time he'd seen her really smile at him since… well, since four years ago. That thought hurt more than he was willing to admit, so he forced himself to focus back on the reason they were all here. "It will definitely make people feel. And then we're almost there."
"What's the rest, then?" Talia asked, looking between him and Marissa, and back to him.
"Proving ill intent would be best," Dean told her. "A bribery story isn't enough, the same way it wasn't enough evidence for the trial. We won't get them to admit to anything, they're probably lawyered up to their teeth right now, so I need to do something else."
Marissa raised her eyebrows. "Do you have an idea?"
He was about to admit that he was still working on it when his gaze dropped to a Dalio Developments advertisement on the bottom of the offer page he printed earlier from their website. The ad was for an open showing tonight, at six thirty pm, on a new housing development barely two miles away from where Talia and other plaintiffs lived.
"I do." He showed them the page. "I'll go house-hunting. I will see not only what they're selling now, but also what they're telling their customers."
"How would that help us?" Talia frowned. "The houses will be different and new."
"But if they're using the same tactics now, even after your lawsuit, it suggests the intent to deceive. They wouldn't be able to claim obliviousness, if they're caught telling the same lies now that you've exposed them." Dean glanced at silent Marissa. "It may not work, but I'm going to try it and see what happens. We don't have anything to lose here."
"You s
houldn't go alone," Marissa said, and it threw him off. He expected protest or maybe her laughing off his idea.
"Excuse me?"
"You shouldn't go alone to the showing. Single men usually don't go hunting for houses in a family-friendly neighborhood."
Dean nodded. "You're right, I'll—"
"I can go with you."
That he definitely didn't expect. He stared at her for a few seconds, enough to see the flush at the back of her neck as she turned to Talia.
"Talia can't go, because most of the employees have probably already seen her. None of them dealt with me in person, so they won't recognize me."
The idea was both crazy and had a point, a combination that he remembered all too well from years ago. It was one of her best assets.
On the other hand, insisting to be in control of everything was one of her bigger faults. Dean wasn't blind, and he knew the signs. Coming here to the firm even if Talia could handle herself alone, questioning the plan, now this… Marissa couldn't let the case go, and it went beyond just coming up with the idea of hiring him for help.
Dean could say no, could bluff about taking Alicia instead. But hell if a part of him didn't perk up at the idea of spending more time with Marissa. Alone.
He should say no. It was the smart, safe, and sensible thing to do.
"Okay, great," he said instead, trying not to imagine Nate and Shawn's faces when they learned about this. "Good idea," he added, hoping against hope that hearing it out loud would convince them all.
CHAPTER FIVE
Talia nudged her foot with hers when Dean excused himself for a moment and left them in his office.
"Are you sure this is a good idea? You going with him to the showing, I mean."
No. No, she wasn't sure. But she also wasn't going to tell her cousin that. The news spread fast in her family, and she'd already dodged her mother's indignant "Dean Young!" over the phone last night.
"It's the best plan we have."
"I didn't mean for the plan," Talia muttered, but Marissa pretended not to hear.
Of course she wished things were different, easier. She wished there was no pang in her chest, no breath caught in her throat, no longing when she'd seen him at the party or at the office. She wished she could be over him.
And two weeks ago, she would have said she was. It wasn't like she hadn't dated since their break-up, after all. She'd even had a boyfriend for a few months, until Charles took the promotion that sent him to D.C. Neither of them had even entertained the idea of a long-distance relationship, so the split was amicable, if a bit…anticlimactic.
Not once had she missed Charles the way she'd missed Dean months—years, really—after the break-up. She'd resigned herself to always comparing every man in her life to the one who had left, but she hoped that one day she'd meet someone who would come out victorious in comparison.
She was still waiting.
***
Marissa wasn't surprised to see him still driving the same car she remembered him having years ago. The dark green Jeep looked almost exactly the same as the last time she'd been in it, aside from the good luck charm she'd once given Dean that used to hang from the rearview mirror. Now there was nothing there but a small Army pin on a string.
She looked away to stare at the glove compartment in front of her. It had been four years since their breakup. Of course he'd gotten rid of it. She'd hidden all the things he'd ever given her, too, and hadn't touched the box at the back of her closet for almost two years now.
"This car has barely changed," she hurried to say to distract herself when she realized she was watching for any signs of a woman spending a lot of time here. Not your concern, she told herself firmly. They weren't here on personal business, and she would do herself a favor if she remembered that.
"This car is ready to outlive me," Dean said with a satisfied smile. "I probably take more care of it than… anything else, really."
Marissa half-smiled. She remembered that. He'd always insisted on driving everywhere in it, from the movies to a trip to see his parents in Montana. She'd witnessed the car breaking down twice, but Dean would always work some magic on it and get it running again, no matter what. He hadn't wanted anyone else to even touch it, not to mention drive it anywhere.
"I had enough people driving me places when I was in the Army," he'd told her once, in the far-away voice he sometimes had when he mentioned his military days. "I'm not doing it again."
Back then she'd already bought her beautiful Mustang, and she couldn't bear the thought of letting anyone drive it—other than Dean, but even that only happened a few times. So she understood, in a way.
Now they were driving in silence in his old car, and she was wondering what other women had been sitting where she sat. How many women were there in the last four years, other than Alicia?
"How are things at the office?" Dean suddenly asked.
Marissa turned her head to look at him, but he stared at the road ahead. "What do you mean?"
"Does Woodley give you any trouble over the case?"
"I didn't give him a chance." Her smile grew at the memory of the conversation. She was tempted to tell Dean that story, since the disdain for Justin Woodley was one of the things they'd always had in common, and they'd actually bonded over snarky commentary way back then. But it felt wrong, somehow, now that Dean wasn't working there anymore.
"Good. He was always afraid of you."
Marissa glanced at him in surprise. "Justin? No, he wasn't."
"Yes, he was. Remember the mock trial our first year, how he almost came out of his skin just to avoid going against you?" Dean shook his head. "Everyone knew you were brilliant from very early on, but no one was as terrified of it as him."
She would like to be able to honestly say that Dean's easy compliment didn't make any impact on her. She couldn't. Aside from loving him, she'd always admired his work, his mind. In her book, he'd been in the top of their group of associates, he just hadn't gotten enough recognition, because he wasn't one to fight for the spotlight. Besides, Nate and Shawn were always there with him, and with Nate's personality and Shawn's charm, Dean had been often relegated to the background by people who weren't looking closely enough. Marissa thought highly of the other two guys as well, but for her, Dean was the unsung hero of the group.
He'd complimented her numerous times back then, but there was always a part of her that thought it was because they were together. Now, here, it was nothing more—or less—than a simple appreciation of her intellect. And damn if her heart didn't beat faster at that.
"If that's the case, it's a wonder he's not gloating harder," she finally said, coming back to the topic. "Winning over someone he was afraid of has to feel pretty good, and even if the case had never been mine, we both see it as if it were."
"It's not winning if he got it handed to him," Dean said, gaze locked on the road. "He'd never win against you in a fair fight."
Marissa shrugged, trying to tamp down the feeling of warmth in her stomach at Dean's matter-of-fact defense. She wasn't expecting it, so she wasn't quite sure how to react and ended up not saying anything at all.
The rest of the drive they spent mostly in silence, but it wasn't as stifling as it was before. It was almost…comfortable. And sure, she might have only been so comfortable because she was letting the past influence her, but it didn't change anything. She realized that on an instinctual level, she still trusted him. She could relax with him in a way she wasn't able to with most people in her life.
Don't be stupid, she told herself firmly. Don't go down that road again. It gets terribly lonely and you know it.
As they took the next turn, Marissa noticed a big sign welcoming them to the new Dalio Developments' housing project. She looked around. The houses were nicely-sized for young families with one or two kids and had a bit of a lawn space out front. They were almost identical but for the shades of paint—yellow and orange, mostly. It looked nothing like her apartment in Tribeca, but she kn
ew a lot of people appreciated it. Heck, Talia and her mom lived in almost the exact same house a few miles from there.
And Marissa and Dean were about to find out just how similar these new ones were.
He parked behind two other cars in front of the house at the end of the street with a big sign on the lawn, "OPEN SHOWING – COME MEET YOUR DREAM HOUSE!".
"We're a couple looking for a new home to move into after the wedding," Dean told her as he turned the engine off. "That's okay with you?"
At some point, Marissa was going to have to sit down with a bottle of wine and rethink her life choices that led her here, but for now, she only nodded.
"Sure."
They left the car and headed for the house. Dean looked closely at the building as they drew near.
"The design is the same at first glance," he said, nodding at the foundations to their right. Marissa looked at them, but didn't spot anything weird.
"Should I be seeing something?"
"No, not if you'd never built a house." Dean shrugged. "I'm not sure what it is, to be honest. Something feels off, but it may be my skewed perspective right now."
Marissa was about to point out that as far as she knew, he hadn't spent time building houses either, but then she remembered he'd worked on sites during his high school holidays. Maybe he did know something about these things, after all.
A young and attractive woman in a lavender pencil skirt and white blouse appeared in the doorway.
"Hello, come in." She smiled, showing teeth. "My name's Alyson, and I'm here to answer all the questions you may have."
"Thank you," Marissa told her, followed by Dean's echoing the sentiment.
Before Alyson could say something else, Dean gestured for Marissa to go inside first, and Alyson smiled. This time her smile was smaller, more real.
"Two couples are inside, walking around, but I'm yours for the time-being," she said as they paused in the hall. "Let me give you a tour first, and then I'll answer the questions or leave you to it."
