By Your Heart (New York City Fixers Book 3)

by Ally Decker

  Table of Contents

  By Your Heart

  About This Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Copyright

  Contents

  By Your Heart

  About This Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Copyright

  BY YOUR HEART

  New York City Fixers #3

  Ally Decker

  Website | Newsletter

  She's never forgotten him.

  Marissa Ratner was used to fighting for her clients, but when the case involving her family got assigned to the biggest settlement-chaser in her firm, she knew she would have to be creative to see justice done. Even if "creative" meant hiring her ex-boyfriend.

  He's never stopped loving her.

  Dean Young told himself—and anyone who asked—time and time again that he was over Marissa, but as soon as she walked back into his life, his certainty started to crumble. Then she asked him to help her family, and there was no way he was going to say no.

  Neither of them expects to get a second chance—but it may be what they both need the most.

  ###

  By Your Heart is a stand-alone romance with no cliffhangers, but if you like to read books in order, or you're curious about how other fixers fell in love, check out the first two books in the trilogy:

  By Your Rules (Nate & Claire)

  By Your Side (Shawn & Alicia)

  CHAPTER ONE

  Marissa Ratner desperately needed another coffee, but she'd promised herself she wouldn't get one until she was done rereading the deposition for the Tarner trial. And that meant she was still fifty-four pages away from her delicious latte.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose under her glasses and closed her eyes for a few seconds. It was going to be a long day, but she wanted to have all her notes for the closing remarks ready. The likelihood of the jury convicting her client was slim to none, but she wasn't going to drop the ball so late in the game, either.

  She looked up at the knocking on her door and saw Sidney Lee, one of her fellow junior partners and her closest friend in the firm. Marissa waved her in with a smile.

  "Hi there, what can I do for you?"

  "Hey." Sidney sat down on the opposite side of Marissa's desk. "I've heard the Tarner trial's going well. Congratulations."

  "Thanks. It should be over by Friday, and after that, I'll be able to help out with the Dalio case. I know it's a lot to—"

  "That's why I'm here." Sidney grimaced, and Marissa didn't need to be a psychic to know she wasn't going to like what her friend had to say.

  She tapped the end of her pen a few times over the files before she stopped herself.

  "I'm not getting the first chair on that case," Sidney said, sliding a bit in her chair.

  Marissa stared at her. "What do you mean you're not getting the first chair?" The Dalio case involved Marissa's aunt and cousin, so, according to the firm's rules about conflict of interest, she wasn't allowed to work on it in any official capacity. She referred them to Sidney instead, and they were set to start the ball rolling in the next few days.

  "Palmer called me in this morning, said he reviewed the case and thought 'my talents' were better used elsewhere." Sidney sucked the corner of her lips into her mouth for a second. "I'm sorry, Marissa. I tried to protest, but you know how he gets."

  Alan Palmer, one of the name partners of Willis, Palmer, and Singer, was an asshole who liked to butt his head in the cases far too often for Marissa's liking, but she couldn't remember him going that far. It was one thing to comment on your employee's work, or make a pointed suggestion about the direction someone should take. It was completely different to take a case away so late in the game—and from a junior partner, nonetheless.

  "What the hell?"

  Sidney shrugged. "I honestly don't know. But I stopped trying to figure him out a long time ago, you know? It's easier on my peace of mind."

  Marissa wasn't ready to let it go that easy, though. "So he didn't offer you any more explanation?"

  "No. But he did drop the mention about my yearly performance review in, so I was even less inclined to press him on it," Sidney admitted. "Which was probably what he intended."

  It sounded like something Palmer would do. Marissa tossed the pen onto her desk. "Did he tell you who would handle the case now?" She was on good terms with most of the junior partners, she could probably—

  "Yeah, and you're not going to like it. It's Justin."

  "Justin Woodley?" Marissa sat up straight. She couldn't believe this. "This is who he chose? Are you kidding me?"

  Woodley. What a joke.

  Sidney shook her head. "I wish, but no. You know Palmer loves him. During our conversation, he made sure to mention Woodley has the best track record of all the junior partners."

  "He has a record of settling too quickly, as well," she countered. There was nothing wrong with settling—heck, she was all for the settlement in the Dalio case, too. But with Woodley's hurried approach, she could bet he wasn't going to fight hard enough for the plaintiffs to get what they deserve.

  And that left her aunt and her cousin in a very bad situation.

  "Again, I'm sorry about that," Sidney said, standing up. "I wanted you to hear it from me and know it wasn't my idea."

  Marissa nodded. "Of course. Thanks for doing that."

  She watched Sidney go and then sat back in her chair. "Fuck," she muttered to herself as she rubbed the bridge of her nose under her glasses again.

  Some days, she really hated her job.

  ***

  Marissa raised her glass so fast she almost spilled it all over the table.

  "And that's that. Palmer screwed us," she said before downing her shot.

  Catherine, her best friend, downed hers, too, and grimaced right after.

  "What a prick," Catherine offered, and Marissa nodded.

  "I hate that he can just…" She waved her hand. "…do that."

  "Bosses suck big time sometimes." Catherine pointed at her with the empty shot glass. "But that shitty move sucks more than usual."

  "I hate that I had to tell my aunt and cousin about it, too. They went to this firm on my recommendation, and now they're getting this stupid, lazy—" Marissa wrinkled her nose in distaste.

  "Can you do something to not make him settle?" Catherine rested on her elbows against the table as she leaned in. "You know, is there a miraculous piece of evidence or something that would make him at least work for every last dime they will pay?"

  Marissa shrugged. "I could have their signed confession, and I don't know if he still wouldn't try to settle."

  She looked down at her empty glass with a grimace. She knew she was overreacting, probably, but she was two shots too late to care about it. She'd spent most of the day trying to figure out what Palmer's angle was here. Did he want to promote Woodley over Sidne
y? Did he not want to risk alienating potential business partners in the development industry by pushing for a quiet settlement? Or was it something else?

  "He's a prick, too, then." Catherine signaled for the waiter. "We need to drink and strategize. I'm sure we'll come up with something."

  "Something that I can actually use when I'm sober?" she asked, not even trying to hide a disbelieving tone.

  Catherine snorted. "You set the bar high, but we will try our best."

  When a few minutes later the waiter came back with another round of shots, Marissa thought briefly that she was going to regret it the next morning. But with no real options left, she could as well try to drunk-plot her way out of this one.

  "It's worth a shot," she decided loudly, and the pun sent both of them into a laughing fit that left Marissa breathless and probably red all over. She did feel marginally better, though, so that was something.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Dean Young fought the urge to tug at his tie for about a hundredth time tonight.

  "I didn't sign up for this," he muttered into his glass, but Alicia was standing close enough to hear.

  "It was bound to happen at some point," she told him as she put her flute down on a tray and smiled at the waiter passing by their corner of the room.

  "No, it wasn't," Dean argued. "Nate and Shawn had never missed one day of work at our old firm. I was within my rights to assume it was going to be like that in our own company, too."

  "Trust me, Shawn would rather be here than at home with a fever," Alicia said dryly. She had been their office manager for close to two years now, but most importantly, she was Shawn's girlfriend, and Dean considered her a friend. Which was why he'd asked her to accompany him to this party, knowing full well that he needed adult supervision if he was to be set loose on a bunch of pompous, rich people on a Friday evening.

  He should've known she wasn't going to make it too easy for him.

  "I'd prefer a fever, thank you."

  Alicia tugged at his arm in the direction of the tables. "Come on, let's eat. Maybe that will cheer you up."

  It wasn't a bad strategy. If there was one bright point of this evening, it was the magnificent food. Dean would gladly set up camp at the buffet table and let Alicia mingle and make a great impression. He was of the opinion that the best thing he could do for their networking efforts was to stay hidden.

  Normally, he did exactly that and stayed away from all the parties, but with Shawn sick and Nate visiting his future grandparents-in-law, Dean had to step up. Most of the parties he would've ignored, but not this one. It was hosted by Lena Malik, a woman who had been the first to give Foster, Young, and Urban a chance, back when Dean and his best friends had just started their fixing business. That made their attendance at Lena's charity event mandatory in his book.

  Dean only wished it was scheduled for any other weekend, not the one that both his partners were unavailable for.

  He looked at Alicia, who was smiling as she watched the mingling crowd. "You're actually enjoying this." His tone came out more accusing than he'd intended, but before he could apologize, she waved him off.

  "Yes, I am," she said, picking another canapé off the plate in front of them. "Free food, free drinks, a chance to dress nicely and chat with new people… What's not to like?"

  "The second half of what you just said," he muttered and picked up a piece of chocolate cake that melted all over his fingers before he put it in his mouth. It was really good, though, so he had to resist the urge to lick the chocolate off.

  Another reason not to like this place, he thought as he reached for the napkin. Waste of perfectly good chocolate.

  "Oh my God, I knew you were going to be difficult about this, and Shawn warned me to expect even worse than what I imagined, but you've still somehow managed to surpass it anyway." Alicia turned her back to the room as she spoke, so no one but him could see her eyes roll.

  After Dean cleaned his fingers and dropped the napkin into a small bin next to the table, he turned and almost collided with someone. For a moment, he thought Alicia must have moved closer while he wasn't looking, but then it hit him in a split second. His mind registered the scent of the familiar perfume right before he glanced at her face.

  Marissa Ratner.

  Just when he thought the day couldn't get any worse.

  "Excuse me," he made himself say as he took a step back.

  At least she looked as surprised as he did. Her eyebrows moved up and down in a flash, but Dean caught it, the same way he noticed the way she covered her stomach with one hand—her old gesture of nerves.

  "It was my fault, I walked up too close," she finally said. Her hair was longer than he remembered, but aside from that, she hadn't changed much. There were times when the last few years seemed like another lifetime to Dean, but sometimes, like right now, it seemed as if it had barely been a month.

  Marissa still looked the same.

  And seeing her still rattled him to the bone.

  "How are you, Dean?" she asked when the silence stretched a bit too long.

  "Good," he said, the standard answer rolling off his tongue. "I'm good. You?"

  And Marissa, since she had always liked sending him a curveball, shrugged. "Could be worse."

  She grimaced right after she said it and waved her hand. "Sorry, it's been a bad week. Ignore me."

  As if I ever could.

  Dean wished he had a glass in his hand right now, to stall, to hide his face in it, to drink something that would make the sudden tightness in his throat disappear.

  The unsubtle jab to his side reminded him of Alicia by his side.

  "Oh, excuse me. Marissa, this is Alicia Cordero, my co-worker. Alicia, this is Marissa Ratner. We used to work together at Willis, Palmer, and Singer."

  The two women exchanged greetings and handshakes, and Dean would swear they were sizing each other up. He could already tell Alicia would ask him about Marissa and their story, but what worried him more was what she would tell Shawn. And possibly Nate, too.

  "Are you still with the same company?" Alicia asked Marissa after he hadn't said anything else.

  "Yes. I'm a junior partner now, though, so the view is much better than back when we were both there." She shot a glance at Dean, and it was like a kick in the gut.

  "I bet," he muttered. He hadn't meant for it to sound malicious, but as he heard the words out loud, it immediately became clear that was how it came out.

  Marissa narrowed her eyes but didn't comment. "How's life on your own treating you?" she finally asked, after she probably swallowed about a dozen jabs and insults.

  "We're doing well," he said with a nod. "Busy, but that's good." Foster, Young, and Urban had really flourished in the last eighteen months, and most people working with and around New York's rich and powerful had heard about them one way or another. Dean didn't need to brag, even if there was a part of him—stupid, immature part—that wanted to show Marissa what leaving that firm could do, and how successful he had been while following his heart.

  He kept quiet.

  "Are you looking forward to the auction?" Alicia asked, and Dean was once again impressed by her talent to handle any social situation, even the awkward ones. She didn't even sound like she wanted to kick him in the shin and apologize for his asshole behavior.

  Marissa smiled at that, and only a small tightness around her eyes told him she had to fight to maintain her composure right now.

  "I'm here on business, I'm afraid." She only glanced at him before looking at Alicia. "Lena Malik is one of our biggest clients."

  Alicia nodded. "I wonder if anyone goes to these parties for, you know, the actual party. Food, alcohol, gossip, etcetera."

  "I'm pretty sure at least some of them do," he finally said, surveying the crowd to avoid looking at Marissa. "Maybe most of them."

  She excused herself a moment later, and Dean watched her go, taking in her figure in that midnight blue dress. Some things never changed—his body responded to
her immediately.

  "You," Alicia whispered, pushing her finger up against his chest, "are going to tell me the entire story, because, damn, you were extra cranky with her."

  "I don't want to talk about it." He picked up another piece of the chocolate cake and slipped it into his mouth so he wouldn't be able to say anything.

  "If extra grumpiness is so easily spotted, there's definitely a story there," Alicia went on as if she didn't hear him. "What was it? An office romance? The forbidden fruit? You know I won't judge. This is exactly what happened to me, after all."

  Dean snorted despite himself. Alicia and Shawn's cute puppy love had nothing to do with what he and Marissa had had. It was a nice sentiment on Alicia's part, but almost completely unfounded.

  It had started easily enough. Dean had noticed Marissa on the first day at Willis, Palmer, and Singer. She'd had that air around her—of someone who knew who they were and what they wanted without being a pompous asshole about it. People listened when she talked. She was also attractive and smart, and—as they learned quickly in the first weeks—competitive.

  Dean kept noticing her around, but it wasn't until they were assigned to the same case that they actually talked. Or rather, fought.

  He couldn't recall what they'd been arguing about that day, but he remembered the fire in her eyes that seemed to reflect the one inside him. He remembered barely noticing the rest of the group, who watched them like a Wimbledon final match. All his senses were focused on her.

  It had been the most fun he'd had at the job up to that point, and when they were done—the lead lawyer going with Marissa's side of the argument—Dean was half in love already.

  And it had been good for a while, too. Thinking-of-buying-a-ring level of amazing.

  A jab to his side brought Dean back to the present, and he looked at Alicia, who raised her eyebrows.

  "That bad, huh?" she said, tilting her head. "Sorry I asked."