A Case For Love (Royals Series Book 3)

by Nicole Taylor

  A CASE FOR LOVE

  Nicole Taylor

  A Case For Love

  Copyright © 2017 by Nicole Taylor

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be produced or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other – except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, places, locales or to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

  Cover design by James, GoOnWrite.com

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  “Welcome to Jones Law.”

  Ronnie Dickson redirected her attention from the retreating human resources assistant to the bespectacled human resources manager.

  Giving the man’s outstretched hand a firm shake, Ronnie smoothed down the back of her Versace coat dress and took a seat.

  The office was moderately-sized and tastefully decorated with attractive, modern furniture. The large, potted plant in the corner seemed to reach toward the light pouring through the solitary floor to ceiling window.

  “I know Friday is an odd day to start a new job, but for payroll purposes, it was tidier to have you begin the first day of the month.”

  “I understand.”

  “The first order of business is your contract.”

  Kyle Corbin took a stack of papers from his desk and offered them to Ronnie.

  “Please look over the terms to ensure they are what you agreed to over the phone and then sign the last page.”

  As Ronnie perused the contract, she took a deep breath to control her nervous excitement. She still could not believe her good fortune in having landed a position with this prestigious firm. There certainly would be a learning curve, given that she would now be working in corporate law and her previous experience was in criminal law. But she was a quick learner and looked forward to the challenge.

  Ronnie pulled a pen from her handbag, signed the last page of the document with a flourish and returned it to Mr. Corbin. He slid a glossy handbook across his desk.

  “That’s your copy of the employee handbook. You need to sign the last two pages. Detach the second one. I will retain it for our records. You are responsible for reading the document. I will just highlight certain areas you need to pay particular attention to. Stop me at any time if you have any questions.”

  Ronnie followed along in her copy as Kyle Corbin began to take her through the handbook. He spoke about attendance policies, leave policies, and work performance. When he reached the dress code section, he paused and gave her a quick once over.

  “Ms. Dickson, how you’re dressed right now is fine. However, even though this firm is not opposed to color, especially if legal assistants do not need to make court appearances, you may want to tone down the color just a bit.”

  He held his index finger and thumb a half-inch apart for emphasis.

  Blinking in surprise, Ronnie cast a quick glance over her tomato red dress with its cap sleeves and large gold buttons. After having to dress in dark colors every day for frequent court appearances in her last job, she had looked forward to adding more color to her wardrobe given this job would rarely require her to attend court.

  “It doesn’t say anything here about color,” Ronnie pointed out as she scanned the section.

  “It doesn’t speak about color specifically, but it does say one should dress soberly,” he said.

  Ronnie flashed a smile to soften her words.

  “Yes, soberly. Not somberly,”

  Mr. Corbin’s dark eyebrows went up.

  “I’m just informing you what the culture is here, Miss Dickson. You would be wise to take note.”

  Reminding herself that it was foolish to act like the smartest girl in the room on the first day, Ronnie pursed her lips and looked back down at her handbook.

  Kyle Corbin resumed.

  “This next section of the handbook pertains to our policy on employee dating. While this policy does not prevent the development of friendships or romantic relationships between co-workers, it does establish boundaries on how these relationships are conducted during working hours and within a working environment. Individuals in supervisory and managerial roles and those with authority over terms and conditions of employment, however, are subject to more stringent requirements under this policy due to their status as role models, their access to sensitive information and their ability to affect the terms and conditions of employment of individuals in subordinate positions. As such, these types of relationships are strictly forbidden.”

  Resisting the urge to examine her crimson fingernails, Ronnie recalled a quote by the English philosopher G.K. Chesterton, ‘There are no boring subjects, only disinterested minds.’ Quite apt in this case. She was eager to get to work. To listen to a policy being read? Not so much.

  The HR manager continued his orientation spiel, highlighting other policies until he reached the end of the document.

  “Any questions?” he asked, closing the handbook.

  “None,” Ronnie said, breathing an inaudible sigh of relief.

  “Good.”

  As Ronnie signed the document and detached the page, Mr. Corbin said, “I’m going to take you to meet the associates you’ll be assigned to, but first I’ll take you to meet our CEO, David Jones. Just give me a minute to check and see if he’s available.”

  He picked up the phone and spoke to someone named Joan.

  Replacing the receiver, Mr. Corbin nodded. “Mr. Jones has a meeting in fifteen minutes so his secretary said we should come now.”

  Ronnie shouldered her handbag as she stood.

  “I didn’t realize the CEO had changed. I thought Darrell Jones was the CEO.”

  “No. Darrell Jones retired a month ago. Our new boss is his son, David. Darrell Jones remains the chairman of the company.”

  Walking in step with Mr. Corbin, Ronnie’s eyes roamed the offices interior.

  By virtue of being the sister of both a movie star and a supermodel, she had spent the last twelve years of her life experiencing how the very rich lived. She was not overly impressed by the opulence and luxury evident here in the gleaming marble floors and vaulted ceilings, the stately columns, and the smooth leather furnishings. She was, however, quite titillated by the artistic elements of the décor like the vibrant artwork, stunning sculptures, and poignant photographs wh
ich graced the walls and wide open spaces of the firm.

  Ronnie and Mr. Corbin stepped into the elevator. In what seemed like seconds it stopped at the fourteenth and final floor which, according to him, accommodated the entire senior management team.

  On their way to the CEO’s office, the two walked down a corridor with large, framed photographs. There was no time to read the inscription written at the bottom of each, but Ronnie counted seven portraits.

  “We nickname this the hall of fame,” Kyle Corbin said, and Ronnie saw a hint of a smile appear on his lips. “These are all the CEOs this firm has had. Generations of Jones’ men.”

  “It’s a family firm from what I read.”

  “Very much so. It has always been in this family.”

  Ronnie glanced at the last portrait. The man looked to be in his late fifties. He had a serious expression and fierce dark brown eyes that seemed to stare down at her with disapproval. Ronnie hoped that in person he would look more approachable.

  They reached a desk occupied by a slim, forty-something redhead, who was immaculately attired in a navy blue suit over a white blouse. She was introduced to Ronnie as Joan Glasgow.

  Ronnie greeted the woman with a smile as she thought back to all the females she had met in the firm so far. From the receptionist to a woman who rode on the elevator with her, to the human resources assistant who had ushered her into Mr. Corbin’s office, to this secretary, she realized Jones Law did seem to have a culture of dark business suits. Well, she had no problem with being an iconoclast. She enjoyed setting trends, not following them.

  Joan ushered them to a large, wooden door and pushed it open with a flourish that belied her slight frame.

  Stepping into the office behind Mr. Corbin, Ronnie’s eyes went straight to the CEO. He was not behind his desk but was standing to one side, holding his cell phone to his ear and staring through a wall of windows with killer views of the Chicago skyline.

  The first thing Ronnie noticed was that this man was not the one in the photo.

  For starters, he was a lot younger, probably mid-thirties, and though the man in the photo was not unattractive, the man Ronnie now beheld had the classic good looks of a matinee idol. And, far from his expression being forbidding, it was incredibly compelling, inviting. It whispered ‘draw closer.'

  Resisting the urge to do just that, Ronnie took the seat proffered by the secretary.

  As they waited for the CEO to finish his call, Ronnie studied him further.

  He was tall and muscular. At two inches shy of six feet, Ronnie didn’t have to look up to many men. David Jones was definitely one. He had smooth skin the color of caramel, curly, low cut hair, a trim beard and thin mustache. His good looks were accentuated by a strong aquiline nose, a full sensuous mouth, and thick dark eyebrows. He wore a well-fitting charcoal suit, black and white, pinstriped shirt, and patterned black tie.

  A minute later, Ronnie’s ogling came to an abrupt halt as David Jones ended his call and came over to them.

  Looking her straight in the eyes, he smiled and reached out a hand towards her.

  “David Jones.”

  Ronnie couldn’t speak. In the back of her mind she knew the correct response was to say her name, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what it was.

  In all her life she had never seen eyes so beautiful. They were a color between brown and amber. Then it clicked. Whiskey. Yes, whiskey-colored eyes. Eyes that mesmerized and confounded and turned brains to mush – that’s what color they were.

  Then she heard Kyle Corbin say something. It was her name. Was he addressing her? She tore her eyes away from the CEO to glance at him. No, he was introducing her.

  “Pleased to meet you, Ronalda. Welcome to Jones Law. Which section will you be assigned to?”

  Ronnie finally found her voice. “Property law.”

  David Jones gave a brief nod. He opened his mouth to speak when his phone rang. He looked at the screen and glanced back at them apologetically.

  “I’m sorry I’ve got to take this. I hope you enjoy working with us, Ronalda. Welcome again.”

  And that was when she heard it. The still small voice inside of her.

  This is the man you’re going to marry.

  Chapter 1

  Ten Months Later

  Dragging her suitcase through Chicago O’Hare International Airport one freezing morning in January, Ronnie Dickson thought with annoyance that it wasn’t named the second busiest airport in the United States for nothing. There were hundreds of travelers hurriedly making their way to their terminals, and they didn’t seem to care who they jostled.

  “Watch it,” a man muttered as he almost mowed her down hurrying through the terminal.

  Were people fleeing the state? Why was everyone in such a hurry?

  Ronnie closed the zipper on her tan leather motorcycle Gucci jacket, squared her shoulders and repeated the familiar passage of scripture about being slow to anger as she resolutely made her way to the British Airways counter.

  Ronnie was greeted there by a pretty blonde with a crisp British accent who quickly and efficiently checked her in.

  “Have a nice flight,” she said in a perfunctory manner with a practiced smile, as she handed Ronnie her boarding pass.

  Ronnie reflected that it was unlikely to be that nice of a flight given the circumstances of her trip. She was heading to Zurich to lend support to her sister, Dana, whose husband, Robert, had been involved in a horrific accident and had to receive an emergency operation. As she’d been doing ever since news of the accident, Ronnie said a prayer asking God to heal her brother-in-law and preserve his life.

  Ronnie had barely drunk a cup of green tea over her devotion that morning. She needed to find some breakfast. A quick glance at her watch revealed it was 10:00 a.m.

  She headed to the executive departure lounge and made a bee-line for the first café she spotted. As she sipped her beverage several minutes later, Ronnie thought of the long flight ahead of her. She was flying to London and then from there would take a connecting flight to Switzerland. That meant she would spend almost ten hours totally airborne. She grimaced. Crowded airports. Connecting flights. She could have avoided all that by simply and graciously accepting her sister’s offer to send a private jet to pick her up. In an effort to prove her independence, she sometimes wound up shooting herself in the foot.

  ~*~*~*~

  David Jones sat slumped over in a café in the executive departure lounge of O’Hare. His handsome, chiseled features were grim as he stared, unseeing, at his phone,

  Shaking his head and releasing a long sigh, David exchanged the phone for his cup of coffee and took a huge gulp, as though to wash down the distaste of the conversation he had just had with his father.

  His light brown eyes returned to the screen of his laptop, but he knew it would now be impossible to concentrate.

  While he and his father had experienced a strained relationship for years, it seemed to David that ever since he had become CEO of Jones Law, the battles had intensified. While his father had made a big show of turning over the reins of the company to him, his perpetual criticisms made David feel as though he was driving a car with a learner’s permit and his father was the driving instructor…and, not even a good one. He was like someone who dozed off while teaching, insisted that the driving manual was wrong, didn’t give clear instructions, and then ended up scolding the student.

  Darrell’s latest admonishment had come in response to a pro bono policy David had just sent to all branches of Jones Law.

  The move had been precipitated by David’s firmly held views that Jones Law was failing the communities in which its branch offices were based, by not offering a percentage of its legal services free of cost to those who could least afford them.

  Prior to becoming CEO, he had broached the matter to his father on several occasions. Darrell’s response had always been the same, that pro bono work was a personal choice and should not be forced on associates. David did
not agree and had always argued that the hefty salaries the firm’s attorneys earned were more than sufficient reason for them to give a little back to the communities. Darrell had never accepted that argument, but David was determined to see it happen.

  One of the first things he had done on becoming CEO was to assign a team of junior associates to draft a pro bono policy. After reviewing the team’s submission, David had made a few amendments then asked a friend in the Chicago Bar Association to also take a look at it and offer comments. The final document stated, in essence, that associates throughout all branches of Jones Law were strongly encouraged to contribute each year at least 50 hours of legal service to the poor and disadvantaged.

  David had ignored the niggling feeling that he should send it to his father for approval. Instead, the first thing that Monday, he had emailed the policy to each branch manager and told them to ensure it was disseminated to their attorneys.

  Not surprisingly the chairman got wind of the policy and had called him in a rage a few minutes ago.

  “How could you issue a company-wide policy without my approval?” he had bellowed.

  “I didn’t know I needed your approval. I am CEO after all,” David had calmly replied.

  “I am Chairman of Jones Law! Let me reiterate the chain of command to you. The CEO reports to the Chairman, not the other way around!”

  “What is your issue with the policy?”

  “I have a serious problem with the statement, ‘an associate’s involvement in pro bono work is an important factor in the partnership’s ongoing evaluation of the associate. A willingness to serve and become involved with the community evidences a level of maturity and professionalism highly prized by the firm.’”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s blackmail!”

  “How?”

  “It implies that if associates do not do pro bono work, they aren’t going to get very far at Jones Law. I have told you before that you need to separate your community involvement from your business decisions. You can encourage people to do work free of cost, but you cannot force them. What you have done is immature and unprofessional.”