Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  “Conscience, we’re not talking about my children. Their children are conditioned in a way mine are not,” he says, and this time I decide his intentional flubbing of my name is actually a Freudian slip. I’ll happily be their conscience. And the champion of the people who aren’t here to make their voices heard.

  “How, exactly?”

  “They live in neighborhoods where crisis abounds,” he says.

  “Have you been to their neighborhood?” I ask the question of everyone at the table.

  Both of them—Remi included—shake their head no.

  Disappointment settles heavily around my shoulders. “Why not?” I ask.

  “We’ve seen pictures; that’s sufficient,” Barry says.

  “That is not sufficient,” I snap. My voice is sharp, but I find it reprehensible that no one has even been there.

  “Sorry, who the fuck are you, even? Why are you doing more than getting me coffee at this point?” Barry says suddenly. His temper has apparently broken free of whatever was caging it.

  “Coffee? Who are you talking to?” I ask him—suddenly incensed. Propriety is forgotten.

  “You,” he points at me, his teeth bared.

  Remi stands up and comes between us.

  “Listen, I’m not here to be a referee. Barry, this isn’t dictatorship. But, Confidence, I think we should at least entertain an offer. Let’s see what they come back with,” Remi says and the stony glare on his face doesn’t leave room for any push back.

  The conference room doors open and hits the wall behind it so hard it bounces off.

  “You’re fired,” Ms. Swanson says when she bursts into the room.

  Barry glares daggers. “Look what she’s done,” he hisses and points at me accusingly.

  “No, I’m talking to you,” Ms. Swanson says to Barry. “You are fired. We want her. You don’t care about us. We’ve been talking and we don’t want to settle. We want someone who will do what’s right and not what’s easy. And if we can’t get her, then we’ll go somewhere else, and try to convince them to hire her over there. But either way, you’re fired.” Then she turns and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  “You know what? Good luck,” Barry snaps. “And Remi, just a heads-up since you’re clearly too blind to see it, but Hayes Rivers is fucking her. Or at least, he wants to.” His eyes rake over me with a lascivious, angry light in his dark eyes. “And maybe you do, too, because I don’t know why the fuck you hired her.” He gathers up his files and briefcase and storms out of the conference room.

  Remi shakes his head and looks at me as he starts toward the door.

  “I’ve got to leave for the day. I have a client to see. I’ve got some questions I need you to answer. And consider yourself the new lead counsel for this case.”

  “You’re not going to fire me?” I breathe out in a rush before I can stop myself.

  “No, I’m not,” he says like he can’t believe it himself. “You better be worth all this trouble.”

  Relief—rich and hot—floods through me, and I wonder if this is how people who receive a reprieve from death feel.

  “I promise I—”

  “I run at seven a.m. every morning,” he says abruptly and that shuts me up and brings my eyes to his face. He’s frowning at me.

  “Good ... for you?” I say when he doesn’t elaborate.

  “Very good for me. And, while I’m running, I want to be reading your answers. I’ll expect them in my inbox by then. You’re down a team member, so plan on being here all night, Ryan,” he says and then he’s gone.

  Chapter Twenty

  Settling

  Hayes

  “You can’t go in there, Mr. Rivers.” The frantic voice of the woman sitting at the desk outside of Remington’s office calls after me as I walk right past her into his office.

  “Wilde, what the hell—” I stop in my tracks. He’s not alone. Confidence, that asshole who’d talked to my woman like she was beneath him, and two men and one other woman are sitting huddled around the small conference table in front of the corner window of his office.

  “Rivers, what the hell?” Remi stands up and looks over my shoulder.

  “Mr. Wilde, he just walked right past me,” the woman says from behind me.

  “Rachel, it’s fine. Just shut the door behind you,” he says to her before he looks back at me.

  Confidence is watching me like a deer caught in the headlights.

  “What are you doing here?” Remi asks and I look back at him.

  “You rejected our settlement offer. Last week when we met you seemed ready to entertain it. Do you know how hard I had to lobby to get them to agree to the terms we presented? You will not get a single dime more out of us,” I warn him.

  “Oh, yes, we will,” says Confidence as she stands up.

  The other man slams his hand onto the table. “Remi, I am not going to sit here and watch this shit. You hired this person over my objection. You’re letting her pilot this and she’s decided to go full kamikaze.”

  “Barry, we’ve discussed this.” Remington’s voice is low, but it’s got a thread of steel in it that raises my already high esteem of this guy even higher. It says more than the four words he spoke.

  But Barry’s rage has blinded him to the danger.

  “No, she wants to stick it to her ex, so she’s using this lawsuit as a weapon,” he spits out.

  “I’m not her fucking ex,” I say.

  “Okay, fine, her former fuck buddy, whatever,” he spits. I turn to him and look at him more closely. Who the fuck is this guy?

  “What the fu—”

  “Barry, you’re about to cross a line,” Remi says and shoots me a warning glance.

  “You’ve already crossed one, Remi. I know this is your firm, but I’m a partner, too. And I won’t sit here and watch all of you be hypnotized by a nice ass and a smile,” he says.

  “You better shut the fuck up,” I growl and Confidence stands up, her shock apparently worn enough to loosen her tongue.

  “Hayes, I don’t need you to fight my battles—”

  “Remi, this is highly inappropriate. You shouldn’t have hired her in the first place. But to assign her to this case—it presents a clear conflict of interest.” He cuts her off and rakes his eyes over her body in a way that nobody but me is allowed to look at her.

  I walk over to him and get in his face. “You’ve got one more time to interrupt her, insult her, or look at her,” I growl.

  “Or what? You going to beat me up?” he asks. “I heard you like to do that,” he says with a small smirk.

  “All of you, stop it!” Confidence shouts angrily. Her fists are balled at her sides, her shoulders are hunched, and she’s squeezed her eyes shut. “First of all, stop talking about me like I’m not here,” she says. “You’re arguing about who gets to have their way. Who gets to decide. And while you’re doing that, people are living in limbo at best. At worst, they’re sheltered in homes with walls breeding mildew. They are terrified that their children are breathing mold spores when they put them to sleep in the only home they can manage to find for them.” She slaps her hands down on the table and leans forward. She looks between us.

  “They’re not greedy, grasping idiots that we should pay off so we can get back to defending white-collar criminals and helping banks find new ways to screw their customers,” she hisses. She looks at Barry and shakes her head. “Do you think I want your job? I don’t. There’s a whole slew of things you know more about than I can ever hope to, but this is my specialty. And the size of my tits, the color of my hair, or the man I love, have nothing to do with any of it. This is not about you and how you feel about women or me,” she snaps. She is vibrating with passion, and she’s never been more breathtaking than she is right now.

  I’m struck by the certainty of a few things. One, this woman loves me. She’s trying to forgive me. But, I also know that if her clients end up with less than what they deserve, her estimation of me will alw
ays suffer for it. And my estimation of myself, as a man who is worthy of leading this family—with her by my side—into a future we can be proud of, will suffer too.

  She looks at Remi and her voice softens. “Thank you for taking a chance on me. Thank you for trusting me with this,” she says and then glances at me.

  “But, I will not work in an office where you allow your employees to talk to people like he’s been speaking with me. So, if this is the culture of your firm, then as soon as this case is over, I’ll be resigning,” she says gravely.

  “Confidence—” Remi starts. But she’s already turned to me.

  “Hayes. What Kingdom offered is woefully insufficient to compensate the victims of the company’s negligence and disregard. You have suits that cost more than what you’re offering the individual families.”

  She casts her damning eye over me again. “If you can afford to buy clothes like that, you can afford to make those people truly whole. And that’s not going to come with some cookie cutter settlement in hopes that this will go away quickly. Because that’s all that money is designed to do.” She condemns me with her honesty. What I see in her eyes is much more than disappointment. It’s disenchantment. Distance. I feel my first real pang of panic that she knows that I’m not good enough. That she really won’t forgive me. The thought grips my gut in a fist of fear. My collar is suddenly too tight and I can’t think of a single thing to say in my own defense.

  She shakes her head at all of us. “None of you have even been to the sites. Or even talked to the people whose lives you’re discussing.. They’re just some figment of your imagination right now,” she chastises us.

  “You know what, I’ve had about enough of this. This is a business,” Asshole says in a harsh dismissal of everything she just said.

  But Confidence is not easily dismissed, and while on her soapbox, with her shield held up in protection of someone else, she is persistence personified. “You’re wrong,” she insists. Her voice is bolstered by her conviction.

  Asshole’s eyes narrow.

  So do hers. And so do mine. My chest tightens and I tense and keep a close eye on him. His animosity for Confidence is rolling off him in waves. If she’s concerned, she doesn’t show it. She keeps pushing.

  “This is the practice of law. We are lawyers. Social engineers. Or least, we should be. We are here to ensure the best possible outcome for our clients. And you want to settle because you don’t think they’re worth the price of seeking justice on their behalf,” she accuses him.

  He leans toward her. Her lip curls in disgust when he speaks, his voice is a snarl.

  “You’re damn straight. I am not going to worry about people who, when they die, no one will care. We represent people who are captains of industries and who will be remembered forever. The fucking flood didn’t go far enough, as far as I’m concerned.”

  The woman at the table, a thirty-something blonde in a nondescript black suit, gasps.

  “Jimenez,” Remi calls his name. That thread of steel is now a fully woven rope.

  “Yeah?” Barry responds as if it’s an imposition to do so.

  “How long have you worked here?” Remi asks.

  “Five years.”

  Remi actually looks surprised. “Already? Damn, time flies,” he says.

  “Yes, and I care about Wilde Law. I’m not going to stand by and watch the firm undermined by what amounts to some sort of affirmative action hire. I know we wanted more women at the table, but let’s hire them for the size of their brains, not their breasts.” He shoots a venomous glance at Confidence and a rush of anger pushes me to my feet.

  Both Confidence and Remi say my name at the same time.

  I look to find them both watching me. Confidence with a wary alertness, Remi with anger I know isn’t directed at me.

  “Then, one of you better do something about it,” I say and sit down.

  “Barry, we’ll be sure to give you an excellent reference. You’re fired. Effective today,” Remi says.

  Barry’s jaw drops, but he doesn’t make a sound.

  No one does.

  The room had been quiet before, but now, you could hear a pin drop.

  Remi turns to look at the blonde. “Mila, can you take him down with you? I’m adjourning the meeting. We’ll regroup later.”

  “Wait, you’re fucking firing me? For what?” Barry sputters, regaining his composure.

  “For violating conduct clauses in your contract,” Remi says simply. His eyes hold the same steel as his voice.

  Barry’s face crumbles. “I just bought a fucking Porsche and a put a deposit down for a pool,” he says.

  “Nice priorities,” I say under my breath, and Remi shoots me a glare. I shrug unapologetically.

  “I don’t deserve to be fired!” he shouts, his eyes wide. He looks around the table for support, but everyone, except for Mila and me has their face conveniently buried in a phone or iPad.

  “You’ll get a month’s severance for every year you’ve worked here. With all of your experience and seniority, you’ll have a job in no time. Mila will make every resource we have available to you in pursuit of that. But you can’t work here any longer. It’s just that simple. I’m sure you understand.”

  He lifts his head slowly and looks between the two of us wordlessly. His expression, completely blank.

  “Barry? Are you okay?” Confidence asks. Her expression goes from concern to worry as she takes in the slack look on his face. Her voice triggers something in him because all of the sudden, his jaw tightens and his eyes focus their burning anger on her.

  “Think you’re so clever, don’t you? Think you’re going to win a fucking prize or something for your stupid case? I can’t wait to see you fall flat on your face,” he says with a voice so cold and vicious that Confidence flinches and takes a step back. It takes every ounce of restraint I possess not to walk over and throw him out of the window.

  “Barry, please stop making threats,” Mila says, sounding mildly bored. “I’d hate for you to leave with a police escort instead of on your own. But you better believe I’ve got my finger on security’s number.” She stands, folds her hands over her chest, and watches him impassively.

  “Oh, I’m leaving. I wouldn’t give you two feminazis the satisfaction of seeing me really lose my cool,” he sneers.

  “And you keep your shitty severance. I’m calling a lawyer. I’m going to take you to the cleaners, Remi,” he spits as he starts walking.

  When he slams the door behind him, the windows of the conference room rattle from the force.

  “What an idiot,” Mila says and walks over to where Confidence slumps over in her chair. I start toward her. She looks at me and shakes her head, no. Her blue eyes are glassy but unwavering.

  “Are you okay?” Mila asks, peering down at her in concern.

  “I’m fine,” Confidence says and swallows hard. “Violent men and I don’t mix,” she says with a nervous laugh. But I see the tremble in her hand when she pushes an errant curl behind her ear.

  I want to kill that man for putting that there. I hate that I can’t walk over, put an arm around her. I hate this distance. I’m done letting it grow between us. It’s time to bring my woman home.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Unexpected

  Confidence

  “That line outside is incredible,” I say, wide-eyed, to Remi as we stack the clothes that have been folded and sorted by gender and size into the bins lined along the 500-yard-long convention center room. The volunteers are all busy at work setting up their stations for the doors to open at eight o’clock. “They did a great job getting the word out and there are shuttles all day for people who need it,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, the Rivers kid is putting his money where his mouth is, that’s for sure,” he says and reaches for another box of clothes the organizers just dropped off.

  “Why do you call him ‘kid’?” I ask a question that’s been burning at the tip of my tongue.

  �
��Because when I met him, that’s what he was. And now, because it annoys him,” he says with a laugh. I laugh along.

  “You knew him when y’all were kids?” I ask, my curiosity about how his family’s community is named after another family.

  “No. Our families have been neighbors for thirty years now. When they bought the land from the Riverses in the oil bust in the 80s, the name of the development was one of the terms of the contract. And they hated having to sell part of their empire to a bunch of fresh-off-the-boat immigrants who made their money selling plantains in the hood,” he says.

  “Plantains in the hood?” I chortle.

  He chuckles. “Yeah, we lived in one of the parts of the city that was like a food desert. No good grocery stores. Just corner stores—Popeyes, Church’s Chicken, Shipley’s Donut Shop, if you were lucky. So, my grandfather saved the money he made painting houses and opened Eat!. That was our first business. And who knew that grocery stores that catered to every single palette it could source for would be so popular?”

  “Well, apparently your grandfather did,” I say. They have three hundred and fifty stores in Texas and about two dozen in northeast Mexico.

  “Yeah, and he and my dad founded Rivers Wilde. My mom’s brainchild was Wilde Restaurants, Crick Crack being the very first,” he says.

  “Wow, it’s amazing you’ve done all that in one generation.”

  “Yeah. We’re kind of ambitious. And Houston is the most fertile ground for ideas that are all about the hustle. My mother’s Jamaican, so she’s got to have at least three jobs or she feels like she’s being idle,” he says.

  “What about your dad?” I ask.

  “He’s dead,” he answers in an uncharacteristically flat, hard voice.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “No worries, he has been for a long time,” he says, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Anyway, so I met Hayes once—because our families were enemies in a way that felt like a law. And then I ran into him in this little patch of land between our properties on the day of his dad’s funeral. I called him kid. He didn’t like it, so I did it repeatedly and now he’s back and it’s just stuck.”