Resisting Redemption

by Amabel Daniels

  She rubbed her temples. In many ways, being the lone survivor of her family had never been easy. There was the loneliness, the general depression of being abandoned, and the sense of being lost and untethered, not belonging to anyone in the world. Then there was the fact she never had a network of people to help her in emergency situations.

  “Um…” She gulped down the panic in her throat and logically considered her options. She had to accompany Grant to this dinner if she wanted to keep her job. If he was on, she was on. Dinner was mandatory as far as she could tell. She certainly needed to maintain her employment. On the other hand, she had Lucy and Sophia to worry about.

  She met Grant’s gaze. It wasn’t like she would do anything at the dinner. She couldn’t imagine actually taking notes or dictation.

  “How imperative is it that I come along to dinner?” she asked.

  “How imperative is it that you keep your employment?” he said.

  She set her teeth on her lower lip. “It’s not like I would be doing anything.” She hated the whine of her voice. Desperation, even. Woman up, Rox.

  “You would be accompanying me to an important meeting.”

  “So if I don’t come, I lose my job. That’s what you’re saying?”

  He frowned. “Are you telling me there is somewhere else you’d rather be?”

  “It’s not a matter of choice. Something has come up and I don’t think I can accompany you.”

  “I’m saying it is imperative you to come to this dinner. Are you telling me you are unable to perform the duties of your job?”

  He needed her to come for what reason, though? As a mute pet at his side? He’d made it clear her intellect wouldn’t be welcome. “You’re telling me you need me?”

  He deepened his frown. “I don’t—” He picked up his papers. “I expect you to do your job, and that includes coming to this dinner tonight. It’s up to you whether you deem yourself capable.”

  Chapter Nine

  Are you telling me you need me?

  If he were alone on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, he would have groaned.

  The second of five siblings, he’d always been the self-sufficient one. He’d never needed anyone. He set his goals, he made his plans, and he worked. Hard. Success was his, and he’d achieved it all on his own. Academics and law were his passions and through them, he’d been able to thrive with his lone-wolf personality.

  No, he didn’t need Roxie to come to dinner with him. He could eat, breathe, and survive in her absence. But it didn’t mean he didn’t want her to come.

  Rather than express his desire for her companionship, he’d played the asshole boss card.

  What dire medical emergency did she have to tend to on such short notice?

  He rubbed the back of his neck as he paced on the sidewalk, waiting for her to arrive. Her face had paled like a ghost when she’d received whatever bad news her phone held. He crushed the immediate concern at the woe in her eyes and wondered—while it was none of his business—what could have upset her so violently.

  She didn’t have any parents. He’d discovered that much from his initial background check. Neither did she have any siblings or other relatives. No ring on her finger. Perhaps a close friend took ill? Boyfriend?

  He vented out his frustration with a deep exhale. Definitely not his business if she had someone special in her life. Glaring at the taxi that approached the curb, he readied himself for her arrival. Nope, not her. He resumed his pacing.

  Even though it made no sense, he’d relented and agreed she could meet him at the restaurant instead of riding with him. A slight situation to take care of, she’d said. He checked his watch. Her slight situation was going to make him late.

  If she flakes on this dinner, she’s gone. Despite his nagging curiosity about his new assistant, she was nothing more than a dime a dozen. His gray cells were supposed to be firing synapses on Ben’s case, not Roxie’s emergencies. The disappointment he anticipated at not seeing Roxie again only ruffled his feathers more.

  Are you telling me you need me?

  He scowled at the empty taxi lane.

  Marcus and Sheree were already seated inside. Tara would undoubtedly arrive at any moment. All Grant was missing was his intriguing, sexy, and totally tempting assistant.

  He’d handled hundreds, thousands of meetings solo. It wasn’t cockiness that had him boasting he worked well by himself, it was a simple fact. But he’d still acted on impulse and threatened Roxie with her job if she didn’t come to the dinner.

  It was with a grudging ache that he considered that, just maybe, he did need her. She’d outfoxed Tara’s deception with her schedule again. Earlier, she’d broken protocol and demanded he stop long enough to eat something.

  While Grant was always the rock, for himself and others, he had to face the possibility Roxie might be his anchor. No one else had ever looked out for him in his adulthood, no companion ever cared if he properly nourished himself with food. She had, despite the intensity of their work for the past couple days. What had she said? Her job was like a scavenger hunt? Well, she was winning that game, and offering some simple comfort, too.

  He probably wouldn’t really fire her. But he sure did want to know what mattered to her above her paycheck. As a career-focused individual, he’d always held curiosity about what other people dedicated their lives to, if not their work.

  After a final survey of the taxis at the curb and the pedestrians on the sidewalk, he gave up hope of entering the restaurant with Roxie. He wouldn’t dare miss the look of unpleasant surprise on Tara’s face when she found him sitting with the Rohns at the proper time.

  “Thanks. Keep the change,” Roxie’s voice called out from behind him.

  He turned as she exited a taxi. She wore the same outfit as she had all day. The gray blouse and black skirt that came to just above her knees. Nothing flashy or custom made, but still professional. With her back to him, she slung a large bag onto her shoulder and seemed to be carrying something in her arms.

  He bit back a smile at her arrival and waited for her to face him.

  She spun around, searching, until she found him. She held a baby.

  Fisting his hands in his pockets, Grant kept his expression blank while his pulse raced.

  A baby?

  She licked her lips as she approached him, seeming apprehensive and unsure, but at the same time, confident. Holding her head up a little higher, she came to face him.

  Hers?

  He stared at the infant girl in her arms. A green-eyed and red-haired doll. Stuck in shock, he could do nothing but stare and hope not to reveal how much this news affected him.

  She had a perfect little girl. With frantic waving hands and a drooling, sloppy smile. He couldn’t take his gaze off her.

  She has a baby?

  Grant narrowed his gaze at Roxie as he tried to compute the reality. She was much too tiny to have actually carried a human inside of her. Anorexic she was not, but Roxie wasn’t padded and frumpy with rolls and excess space to have ever been pregnant.

  There was some kind of residual weight gain, right? Not to mention, she seemed so damn young. He swallowed and tried to speak. “What—where did she come from?”

  “My uterus.”

  “I mean…” He wiped at his mouth, unable to formulate a sentence.

  She jerked her head toward the restaurant. “Come on. She-devil’s not here yet, is she?”

  He followed her to the front entrance, still eyeing her child. “How did she get here? What, what is she doing here?”

  “I can’t see why you’d care, but even after I toughed out seventeen hours of labor, they ended up having to cut her out.”

  He ground his molars as she led the way to the hostess stand. Is she ever not sarcastic?

  She faced him. “My babysitter fell. She’s in the hospital and couldn’t watch her.”

  His jaw dropped. “You mean to bring your infant along to dinner? With us?”

  Roxie tilted
her head. “No, I just brought her for show-and-tell. Yes, I’m bringing her. You said I had to be here, well, I’m here.”

  He shook his head. “This is an important meeting. We can’t—I can’t allow a distraction like this.”

  The hostess beckoned them to follow.

  “Well, you wanted me here, and here I am. With my sidekick. You won’t even know she’s here,” Roxie said.

  Won’t know there’s a baby in her arms? Cooing and babbling like the happiest little human who ever existed? No, he wouldn’t take notice.

  Almost to the table, he was speechless with any further argument. Marcus and Sheree glanced up at their arrival, both with curious expressions of surprise at Roxie’s pint-size guest. Grant slumped to his seat and stared at Roxie, leaving introductions to her. She avoided his gaze and seated herself. After an awkward moment of silence, she cleared her throat.

  “I’m Roxie. You must be Marcus.” She shifted her daughter on her lap and leaned over to shake Marcus’s hands. “And you must be Sheree.” She shook Sheree’s hand. “This is Lucy.”

  Lucy sat in Roxie’s lap and patted the table with her hands. Grant watched her with unbroken shock and fascination. Such a cheerful, small thing. He set his elbow on the table and his face in his hand, still too flabbergasted to utter a word.

  “And…you must be Sonny?” Roxie said, offering a hand to Ben’s bodyguard.

  Sonny merely nodded his head.

  He couldn’t even remember why they were meeting the Rohns, or what he was supposed to say. All he could do was try to absorb the news that Roxie was a mother. She had a beautiful, wholesome, and happy daughter. On her lap was the reason she’d checked her phone constantly throughout the day, why her face had fallen when she’d presumably received bad news about the babysitter.

  And she’d hidden this fact from him.

  No wonder she seemed so tired and exhausted. No wonder she’d wanted to flake on the dinner meeting. What else is she hiding? If she kept her child a secret from him, was he a fool to trust her so immediately?

  “Grant?”

  He snapped from his trance, realizing Marcus was speaking to him. Grant’s frown was wary and he rubbed at his face, physically erasing what could have passed as a pissed-off scowl. He couldn’t react fast enough to figure out how this news mattered to him, but he recognized it wasn’t the proper time.

  “You brought a date?” Marcus asked.

  Roxie choked on the water she was sipping, causing Lucy to giggle.

  “My assistant,” he said and glared at Roxie, still cautious of what to think, much less to say.

  “How old is she?” Sheree asked.

  “Eight months.” Roxie smiled. “Can hardly believe it. The time flies.”

  “Wish this time could fly.” Sheree glanced at Marcus, and then Grant. “My husband is accused of murder. I can barely bring myself to get out of bed most days.”

  Marcus laid his arm around the back of Sheree’s chair, and with his free hand, he patted hers on the table. “Only accused. We’re going to get through this, Sheree.”

  Sheree didn’t reply, but she glanced up at Tara’s arrival.

  Tara smirked at Grant, and then hardened her face at the surprise on Roxie’s lap. “What’s that thing doing here?”

  Grant bit his lip, not at all liking the situation he was stuck in. Lucy was not only a distraction at an important legal meeting with the client’s family, she was a reminder of why he despised his ex-wife with violent intensity. At the moment, he didn’t need to soothe those furious emotions.

  “Sitting on my lap,” Roxie said.

  “What’s it doing here?” Tara demanded and glanced from Roxie to Grant.

  “Since my child is fully equipped with her lady parts, kindly refer to my daughter as ‘she’, not ‘it’ or ‘thing’. Are you going to stand all night? Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Tara opened and closed her mouth, likely steaming at Roxie’s flippant sass. She sat and a waiter immediately came to collect their drink orders.

  Grant tore his stare from Lucy long enough to gauge how uncomfortably awkward the dinner was destined to be. Roxie smiled at Sheree. Marcus raised his brows at Grant. Tara glared.

  After meals were ordered and small talk waned to an ill-fitting silence, Tara launched into a lofty speech about how Ben should stick to the safety of a guilty plea and seek parole in the future.

  Grant wanted to roll his eyes and leave the table every time Tara mentioned the prosecution’s case, as though it was a neutral and factual term, disregarding the concept she was fucking the prosecutor and selling Ben down the river. But because he was still shocked that Roxie had a child, and she dared to bring her to a business meeting, he let Tara take the first stand and pitch her views to Marcus and Sheree. Let her think she was all high and mighty as goddamn lead counsel. For now.

  Every time Lucy giggled or fussed, Tara would pause dramatically and glower at Roxie.

  “She’s teething. Don’t mind her,” Roxie said of the first interruption.

  “What do you do for her?” Sheree asked.

  Roxie dipped her linen napkin into her ice water, and then handed it to Lucy to chew on. “Whatever works.”

  “Do you mind?” Tara asked.

  At the lack of more conversation about Lucy, Tara continued her pitch to Marcus. Sheree seemed too fascinated with Lucy to pay Tara any attention.

  Meals came shortly, and Grant focused on his food and tried not to stare at Lucy as she grabbed everything within her reach, swatting her arms and hands this way and that. He couldn’t distance himself from the baby. Every little movement and noise she made, he wanted to watch and see what she was doing. Studying Lucy was infinitely more pleasing than listening while Tara rambled on, beating around the bush when Marcus asked her questions. No clear answers because she’d planned to forfeit a true case.

  After they’d eaten, Lucy’s fussing turned to wails and Roxie became flustered as she tried to soothe her. She leaned down to her bag on the floor and extracted a blanket. “Sorry, she’s really hard to appease when her teeth are bothering her like this.” She draped the blanket over her shoulder and began to unbutton the top of her blouse.

  “What are you doing?” Grant said and sat up straight. He took the blanket as it started to slide away and he held it up to conceal her. “You’re…you’re doing that right here? Now?”

  “For God’s sake.” Tara threw her napkin to the table and crossed her arms. “Does she need to be here? This is ridiculous.”

  Lucy wailed and fussed until Roxie settled her down to breastfeed.

  “Jesus Christ.” Grant held the blanket closer to her and glanced around the room. What if someone saw her? What if some fucking freak-ass pervert caught a glimpse of her boob? Of her skin? He tamped down the inane possessiveness that roared in him as Lucy finally quieted.

  “This is asinine,” Tara said. “Mr. Rohn, I’m sorry you have to put up with this.”

  “Only an act of nature. Doesn’t bother me any,” he said.

  A waiter approached their table. “Ma’am. I’m afraid I need to ask you to leave.”

  Tara nodded and gestured her hand as though to shoo Roxie away.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Roxie said.

  “Customers are expressing discomfort. Could you follow me to the bathroom, please?”

  “Do you eat your meals in the bathroom?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then eff off. If customers are bothered, they don’t have to look. I have every right to feed my child.” Roxie took a sip of her water, not even giving the waiter the courtesy of looking him in the eye as she dismissed him.

  The waiter left and Grant ran his hands through his hair, impressed at Roxie’s gumption. The blanket covering Lucy slipped again and he fumbled to hold it up.

  “This is disgusting,” Tara said.

  Roxie reached to set her water glass down and knocked over Tara’s wine glass. Purple alcohol splashed onto the lawyer’
s shirt and skirt. “Oh, dang. Sorry.”

  Gasping and cursing as she shot to her feet, Tara stormed off.

  Roxie smiled. “I apologize. I really hate to feed her in public, but when she starts screaming, this is all that will work.”

  Marcus and Sheree waved her off.

  With the Rohns’ attention on him, Grant cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Ben is not a killer and if you give me the chance, I’ll prove it.”

  “How?” Marcus asked. “Seems you can’t win cases anymore.”

  “How?” Grant leaned closer. “I will pick this investigation apart. They have no concrete evidence. The prosecution has based their claims on coincidences and assumptions, no hard facts. Once we plead ‘not guilty’, I can devote my time and attention to figuring out what really happened to Josh Warren.”

  “How? Hasn’t your firm already used a private investigator?” Sheree asked.

  “I doubt it. Maybe Tara asked Stuart—remember him? Her favorite right-hand man, the one I caught her cheating with? I don’t trust him. Or her.”

  “You never trust anyone.” Marcus snorted.

  You say that like it’s a bad thing. Grant shrugged. “But you can trust me. I want to initiate an independent investigation into the case. My focus will be on the other VIP guests that night.”

  “Didn’t they all give statements to the cops already?” Sheree asked.

  Grant glanced at Sonny, still stoic, not even blinking at the mention of that fateful night. The people at Velocity did give statements, but there was always more exposition that could be held back. He’d bet his salary Sonny was withholding details, for instance.

  When Grant hustled back to Atlanta and first spoke with Ben, it was crystal clear his client wasn’t going to say anything about the day or night Josh was killed. When he’d asked about the faint GSR, gunshot residue, shown on his hands—obtained properly from the police—Ben did explain that he and Sonny had shot a rat at the Rohn property that morning. Sonny, though, his lack of detailed answers was just as troubling.