By Your Heart (New York City Fixers Book 3)

by Ally Decker

  Dean hung his head, staring down at his desk as if it could help him remember how to breathe right after the punch.

  "Don't do this," he told her quietly, meeting her gaze. "Don't do it."

  She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not doing anything. I'm only saying—"

  "You're looking for a way to get them out of this." He shook his head. "For fuck's sake—"

  "Excuse me for considering all the options before I assume the worst!"

  "You're not considering the most obvious one." Dean clicked the mouse with more force than necessary as the folder of the recorder opened up on his desktop. "Instead, you're jumping over to looking for the solution you'd like better than the truth. Again."

  She inhaled sharply. "Oh yeah, sure, drag a case we disagreed on from years back and use it now to hurt me. Well done, Dean. Who's deflecting now?"

  He clicked to copy the file onto the computer before raising his gaze to meet hers. They stared at each other with narrowed eyes and fuck, how did they always end up here?

  "I'm just reminding you that you have a history of siding with them when you should've paid more attention to—"

  "That wasn't about that and you know it!"

  "No, actually. I don't know it."

  She snorted and turned halfway away from him, grimacing at the windows.

  "Here we go." She bit her lower lip, but then she looked at him head on again. "You and your higher moral ground where you get to be the one who's drawing all the lines."

  Dean crossed his arms against his chest. "It's not—"

  "But do you want to know what really happened back then?" She tossed her purse onto the couch and crossed her arms against her chest. "I can tell you. You didn't want to be there anymore. You grew tired, and you'd had a couple of really shitty cases. You started to resent being a lawyer. And then… then you started to resent me."

  "That's not true!" Dean stood up quickly and rounded the desk, but paused a few feet away from Marissa. "I never resented you."

  "You resented me any time I said anything even remotely connected to defending the other side." She paused and blinked fast a few times. "You resented me for not wanting to leave."

  That hit Dean so hard he had to fight to stay upright. He wished he had stayed behind his desk. Surely she didn't really believe…

  "You told me once that you'd picked law school because being a lawyer sounded like something you could be good at. And you were." She turned sideways again, but not before he saw her eyes shine. "But it was never truly what you wanted—it wasn't this." She gestured around the office. "So you moved on and that's fine, that's what you should've done. But hating me for choosing differently—"

  "I didn't hate you."

  She offered him a sad smile. "You kind of did. It was like you suddenly forgot how much I loved being a lawyer, how many times I'd told you I always wanted to be one. Once you made your decision to leave, my decision to stay was suddenly my greatest crime."

  "That's not…" Dean shook his head. He couldn't believe this was what she'd thought all this time. "I've never said you shouldn't be a lawyer anymore. I didn't tell you to leave even once. It was you who didn't like the idea of me leaving and starting the firm."

  "I was worried about it, not against it! I liked us working together, but I could've easily gotten over it. And I never told you to stay. I only told you to think about it more."

  "Well, it sounded differently."

  "Or maybe you heard what you wanted to hear to make it an easier break for yourself."

  They stared at each other across the silence that suddenly felt very pressing. Dean tried to think of something to say, but everything that came to mind was a biting remark, and there had been enough of those tonight already. It hurt, hearing her say all of this.

  If you think anything about walking away from you was easy, you were not paying attention, he wanted to tell her. Hell, he wanted to yell at the top of his lungs because, if anything, Marissa was the reason he'd stayed in that firm for as long as he did and only when things started to go wrong between them, did he finally make a decision, hoping that a little distance would do them good.

  He'd been wrong, of course. Marissa took his resignation terribly personally, as if he was resigning from her life, from their relationship. He'd tried to tell her differently, but she wasn't willing to listen. It had all gone to hell after that.

  To hear her now, saying that he'd been the one resenting her, the one who refused to compromise…

  Her phone started to ring in her purse, and when she reached for it, he pulled back, circling the desk again and getting busy with the computer. He unplugged the recording device and immediately copied the file to the external drive.

  "Hi, Talia," he heard Marissa say. She was trying to sound upbeat, but her forced cheer sounded incredibly fake to his ears. "It went very well, we got them on record trying to sell what they know sucks. We're not sure how to use it yet, but we'll think of something."

  As Dean glanced up, he noticed she walked up to the windows and stared at the city at night. She grasped the back of her neck with her free hand.

  They'd been a few minutes away from fucking on the floor of her apartment a few hours ago, and now the distance between them seemed wider than ever.

  Maybe you heard what you wanted to hear to make it an easier break for yourself.

  The swell of anger rolled in his gut, and he tried to stop himself before he said something stupid. Old hurts were on the tip of his tongue, the arguments, the way she'd acted like nothing touched her, nothing hurt her about the split back then. He'd had to be dragged out of his bed after three days, and he'd been half-present when Nate and Shawn needed him the most, when the company was just taking shape.

  And when he'd seen Marissa a few days later when he had to go back to the old office one final time, she'd seemed like she was having the time of her life. He remembered thinking that while he needed to rebuild his life from the ground up, she seemed to be in her element. He remembered thinking that maybe she was better off anyway.

  Dean didn't notice Marissa had finished the call until she walked away from the windows and hesitated in the middle of the room, glancing longingly at the door.

  "I've got this," he said, pointing to the recorder. "I'll talk with Talia in the morning, and we'll consider the options." You won't have to pick sides in any of this anymore.

  She jutted her chin out as he was talking, and he knew she was gearing up for something—he braced for it.

  But then she only shook her head.

  "Fine," she told him, walking towards the door. "Good night, Dean."

  It sounded too much like a final goodbye, and the reply stuck in his throat as he watched her through the glass door. He thought of stopping her, of trying to talk things through, but wouldn't it all end up the same way all over again?

  They seemed to always pick different paths at the crossroads, and it was probably years too late to try to find a map that would work for both of them. If it hadn't worked then, when they'd been living in each other's pockets and so in love…

  Fuck. Dean closed his eyes and swallowed against the tightness in his throat. Fuck.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  You knew this would happen. You weren't expecting anything more.

  Marissa repeated it again and again as she rode down in the elevator and tried so hard not to cry. She wasn't going to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her cry right now—not Dean, not the security guard in the lobby, not anyone.

  She couldn't believe how much had happened in the last few hours, how her life went up, and down, and then down to the sewers in such short period of time. They were supposed to be celebrating the win right now. Heck, she'd been imagining dragging him into her bed to celebrate like in the good old days. She'd thought…

  It didn't matter what she'd thought. The reality had served her a swift kick in the ass—and one in the heart, too.

  She flagged a taxi and let out a quiet, shaky breath when she shut
the door behind her, and the shadow of the cab embraced her. Thankfully, the cabby wasn't chatty, and she was left to stare through the window as they drove through Downtown.

  Every word Dean had spoken to her back at the office came back to her now. God, he could infuriate her one minute and then break her heart in the next, the asshole. She couldn't believe he'd jumped on her for simply considering the options, trying to make sense of what they had seen. But no, it wasn't right for Mr. Higher Moral Ground, who was out for blood any time anyone from Willis, Palmer, and Singer was anywhere close to trouble. She hadn't condemned them fast enough, so she became the enemy, just like that.

  And then he'd tried to tell her he'd never resented her, as if he'd never made her feel like she'd betrayed him by not packing her bags when he had. Like he'd never made her decision to stick to it seem less than his decision to quit.

  Trying to turn the tables on her was not what she'd expected of him, because if anything, Dean had always respected his personal responsibility for things. In the end, that was what pushed him to quit the firm, the feeling that he'd had to make a stand, had to get up and leave, and start fresh.

  And now, now he'd chosen to do differently? To throw their break up in her face, like she was to blame? Marissa had to bite her lower lip to stop herself from crying.

  "I didn't hate you". High praise from someone she'd once thought she'd spend her life with.

  The cab paused in front of her building. Marissa paid and got out quickly, hurrying inside. She wanted to get home already.

  The tears started falling before she even closed her doors behind her.

  ***

  The next morning, Marissa lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and wishing it was the weekend. She couldn't imagine going to work, smiling at everyone and doing her best to ignore both Woodley and Palmer. She hadn't slept more than an hour total, and her headache was now lodged behind her eyeballs like it declared war back there.

  She finally dragged herself out of bed, if only to hunt down the painkillers in the bathroom cupboard. She swallowed two pills and drank a handful of tap water, then she turned on the shower. She undressed and got in, shivering under the too-cold spray, but needing it to wake herself up.

  She went through the motions as she followed her morning routine, even if the cereal tasted like mud, and the coffee was too hot and burned her tongue. She went through the motions, because she needed it, and she couldn't pause and think. That way lay madness and tears, and the desire to bury herself in bed and not get up for a week.

  Walking into the office felt weird. She kept looking around, feeling as if she was being watched. She was also suddenly suspicious about everyone around, wondering if Palmer could really be working alone or if it was known and agreed on by other name partners.

  That last thought didn't leave her for the entire morning, and she decided she would go see Veronica Singer. If it turned out she had no idea about anything, Marissa hoped she'd make it right. If she'd known…

  Her assistant interrupted her before she could go down that dark road.

  "You wanted me to tell you when Justin Woodley would be free. He's now in his office alone."

  "Thank you." Marissa was on her way there before she could try to talk herself out of this. Sure, Dean had rather clearly removed her from the case, but he couldn't control her. There was no way she was sitting by and not at least trying to talk some sense into Woodley. He had to have seen the video, but according to Talia, he hadn't contacted any of the plaintiffs and hadn't picked up the phone all day yesterday.

  As she walked through the office, barely anyone lifted their head, but she still couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off.

  Or maybe it was just her.

  "Hello, Justin." She walked in after knocking on the open door to his office. "May I talk to you for a minute?"

  He closed the file he was reading and gestured her to the chair. "Come on in. I don't have a lot of time—"

  "It really won't take long." She closed the door and sat down. "I only wanted to say I'm glad that video interview about Dalio appeared. It will definitely help the case."

  He leaned forward with his elbows on the desk. "Lucky break, huh?" He nodded. "It will definitely add a zero or two to the settlement."

  Marissa sat back in her chair. She expected Justin to dig his heels in, heck, she was worried she'd need to convince him. She was happy she wouldn't, of course, but after all the hassle, it seemed quite… anticlimactic.

  "I'm glad. These people deserve justice."

  Justin tilted his head to the side. "You couldn't let that go, could you?"

  He knew. She hadn't considered it, her opinion of him so low that she hadn't thought he would guess anything, but now…

  Calm down, she told herself. You don't know what he knows.

  She deflected. "This is my family. I had to hand over the case, but I've been following it. My cousin Talia is quite the force among the plaintiffs."

  "That she is."

  His tone was neutral enough, but she was sure he'd not been happy with Talia. She was inconvenient for his cause.

  "Well, then," Marissa said, getting up. "As I said, I'm glad things are going well. I'm sure you'll get as much from Dalio as you can." She was laying it a bit thick, but she was through with sidestepping the issue and pretending everything was fine. She would've been forced to watch her family settle for pennies if she hadn't done anything. She was owed some satisfaction over it. Even the fact that he'd get all the credit didn't bother her.

  She headed back to her office, and when she saw Paris giving her a worried look, she tensed.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Mr. Palmer wants to see you. He said it was urgent, and they're waiting in Mr. Willis' office."

  So at least Willis is on it as well. Marissa wished confirming her suspicions didn't taste so foul in her mouth. She rarely, if ever, wished she'd been wrong, but in this case…

  "Did they say what they wanted?" she asked. As if there was another option. As if it could be anything other than what she knew it was going to be—the Dalio case.

  But a girl could dream, didn't she?

  "No, they didn't." Paris' frown deepened, but Marissa wasn't in the mood to placate her. Besides, was it worth it to lie now, when the cat was already out of the bag?

  "Okay." Marissa straightened and ran her hands over her skirt. There was no use to drag it out. "I'm heading there, then."

  As she walked through the office, once again everyone seemed to be watching her. She'd never before felt so alone around here. Even after Dean had left, there were still people here she cared about, who cared about her, too. Was it all gone now?

  Logically, she knew she was overreacting, but it didn't help her much. She thought of Dean, of feeling whole again when they were together, of feeling like maybe…

  It had crashed, though, and it was never going to be anything now. She probably wouldn't see him for another few years, and when she did, she could only wish it wasn't going to go like this time.

  God, what she would give to have him by her side now, despite everything.

  Sasha, Willis' assistant, pointed her to go in without saying a word. Marissa took a deep breath and entered the room. She wasn't going to bow down to them. She hadn't done anything wrong, not to the clients and not to the company.

  "Ms. Ratner, please sit down," Willis told her, sitting straighter in his chair. Palmer was on his side of the table, and Marissa was delegated to sit in front of them. We versus you, they seemed to be telling her. Of course.

  "We won't waste anyone's time and ask you if you know why we wanted to speak to you. I think it's pretty clear."

  Marissa looked straight at Palmer. He had to have seen her at the hotel somehow, but if it had been earlier, during dinner, why didn't he hide? Why did he let himself be seen?

  "What exactly did you want to speak to me about?" She wasn't going to be the first one to spell it out. If they chose to confront her, they might as well do t
he rest.

  The men exchanged glances before Palmer spoke.

  "You were at the dinner Dalio held last night."

  She nodded. "So were you."

  "Do you want to explain why you went there? I thought we made it perfectly clear earlier that you were to stay away from them."

  "No." Marissa jutted her chin up. "You only told me you were reassigning the case, that's all. I knew from the start I couldn't be the one representing the plaintiffs. I don't remember being ordered to stay away from Dalio."

  Palmer leaned forward with his forearms against the desk. "Are you intentionally this obtuse?"

  "I'm simply stating the facts. You did not—and had no right to—forbid me from coming in contact with anyone in that company. You can decide on what cases I'm working or not working on, but you can't order me not to care about what was going to happen to the people involved in this particular case."

  "Justin Woodley has been the one handling it," Willis pointed out. He seemed perfectly calm, sitting back in his chair with that bored expression he so often wore. Today, it pissed her off more than usual.

  "Justin's handling the settlement proceedings," Marissa said. "That could've been the same thing, but I'm not sure it is. The same way I'm not sure why this—" She gestured between the three of them. "—is happening now. Do you wish to explain why you were at the same party last night?"

  Palmer narrowed his eyes. "You're overstepping. I'm your superior, and I don't answer to you."

  "I don't have to answer to you about what I do in my personal life, either." Marissa looked from Palmer to Willis, who shook his head.

  "You do when you're meeting with the man who is interfering with our case," he said.

  Marissa's stomach tightened, but she kept it together. She could bluff with the best of them. "I assure you I haven't talked with anyone from Dalio's management—"

  "I meant Dean Foster." Willis sat up, leaning forward and almost mirroring Palmer. "I meant the man I'm sure is responsible for the sudden influx of stories about Dalio in the media."

  "Again, my personal life isn't of your concern," she told him. "But if you think he is the one who's damaging, I'm sorry, interfering, with the case, I wonder what side you're on in all this."