“It might set precedent for all the clubs and that costs money,” came the expected reply.
Let the fireworks begin, she mused.
“Objection! Hearsay.”
A ripple of gasps fanned out across the gallery as Harry Goldman jabbed a finger in the direction of Mr. Rouse. “Your Honor, the witness is making statements of opinion! He has no knowledge of such intent and cannot be allowed to continue to speculate as to what his management was thinking.”
Sam was pleased to note Goldman was too late. In the jury box, shock and suspicion dripped from their faces, eyes rounding, others narrowing, but all settled in on Scaliano.
His eyes said it all. Black, intensely guarded, he knew this was it. He knew what the man was about to say.
Judge Lowry leaned toward the witness and peered at him over thick tortoiseshell bifocals. “Mr. Rouse, was the statement made directly to you, or are you inferring the reason from, say, management discussions?”
Unaffected, he looked up at the judge. “I was told to refuse the offer. When I asked why, my manager said, ‘If we put them in one club, we might have to put them in all the clubs.’”
“Objection overruled,” the judge declared, impatience curling the edge of his words. “You may continue,” he directed to Sam.
She circled back to her witness and drenched her voice in sarcasm. “And that would be a bad thing...” she led him to elaborate.
“When you consider the time involved, the money—”
“What about the lives involved?” she demanded, her tone growing angry and impatient. “What about the members you promised to serve? Don’t they count for anything?” She waved to the jury but quickly pulled back her theatrics. Drawing close, she pressed him further. “You could have saved a life, Mr. Rouse. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
The man tugged at the lapels of his jacket. Uncomfortable he was not. “My job was to run a cost-efficient club. I didn’t get paid to save lives, Ms. Rawlings, I got paid to save money.”
Disgust twisted her spirit. “How fortunate for you.” She turned around, suddenly drawn to Mrs. Albright, and winced. Seated in the gallery behind Diego, quiet and alone, the woman wept. Elegant, beautiful, but no longer stoic. Sam knew she had wanted to maintain a degree of anonymity during the proceedings, but listening to this man and his callous disregard had pushed her beyond her limits.
Sam’s heart went out to her. No one should have to hear such callous disregard for the life of their loved one. No one. Because every life was valuable. Not simply because it was held dear by her client, but because it was inherently precious.
“I have no more questions for this witness.”
Sam returned to take her seat, while Goldman went on the attack. Obviously coming unhinged, his cross was messy and mean-spirited and scored a flat zero with the jury. Their eyes remained steadfast on Mrs. Albright.
Stacking her papers, she exaggerated her movements to indicate she was finished. Finished with this witness, finished with this case, finished with Scaliano, something Vic had waited for fifteen years to see. He breathed a sigh of relief and mused, Scaliano was finished. Harry was a sharp attorney and capable of much better, but his desperation-tinged performance all but sealed his client’s coffin. Scaliano took the stand next, and in his own defense, buried himself. He was pompous and ill-mannered and stopped short of calling Sam a liar.
Vic’s heart warmed. But she kept it together. Loathing may boil behind her mask of professionalism, but to look at her you’d never know it. Cool, calm and collected, she was grace and dignity defined.
For today’s proceedings she wore creamy silk, her heels a golden tan. Gone were the usual waves, wild and free, combed instead into sleek sophistication pulled back at the nape of her neck. Her makeup was done in shades of peach, a near perfect match to the small strand of coral around her neck. He marveled again at how softer colors tamed her fiery nature, enhancing the woman in her. His heart lurched. The woman he had come to treasure as his own. The very same one who dumped his affection square in his lap.
“If it pleases the court,” Sam announced, “I have one more question for this witness.”
The judge nodded his approval.
Vic perked to attention as Sam walked toward Scaliano and when she was very close, watched her pause. “Does the name Mark Dalton mean anything to you?”
“Should it?” he asked, his voice riddled with contempt.
Her movements were slow and measured, but in her eyes Vic could see it coming. The bombshell. Satisfaction surged in his gut. It was the explosion that would rip Scaliano’s life apart, the same way his negligence did to his one spring day, a long time ago.
“He works for the Regency Hotel.”
Scaliano said nothing, but his olive complexion paled at the mention of his ex-employer. Diego and Vic both glanced at opposing counsel. The name set off alarms there, too—as it should—but they had nothing to object to.
“He’s a bartender today, but he used to work as a pool attendant. Fifteen years ago.”
Scaliano’s expression reflected the hit. Goldman leapt up. “Your Honor, counsel is searching.”
Judge Lowry glared. “For what?”
Million dollar question, Vic mused.
With his client’s neck locked securely in the guillotine, Goldman was obviously on edge and growing more desperate. “My client’s past employment is irrelevant to this case,” he stated. “I move all mention of past employment stricken from the record.”
“Perhaps we should see for ourselves.” The judge looked to Sam, who stood by, patiently waiting through the exchange. “Counselor? Is there a point to this line of questioning?”
“My intent is to show a pattern of negligence. But maybe counsel’s right,” she quipped. “Dalton can wait, though I must say he is eager to talk,” she said, unleashing a smile meant solely for Scaliano. “But I’ll save those questions for another day... Like during the criminal proceedings set to follow these.”
“Objection!”
But there was no need to sustain. Sam abandoned the witness with a wink toward Goldman, and returned to her table.
Vic expelled a sigh. It was over. Scaliano knew it. Goldman would soon know it. Eventually judge and jury would know it and it would all be over. Relief flooded in, mixing with a slew of vindication. Scaliano was finished and the best part he knew he couldn’t weasel out of it.
Vic lingered over Sam’s idle organization of papers and files. His heart ached as his gaze held firm. She was finished, too. Watching her from the opposite side of an invisible wall as she slid folders into her briefcase, he struggled to understand. It was a barrier she had built so hard and so fast… A distance she had injected so quick she had given him no time to react.
What happened?
They had been so good together. From the bedroom to the boardroom they were an unbeatable team. Longing filled him as she leaned toward Diego, toward him, murmuring something inaudible as they waited for the judge to excuse them. Mere feet away, the distance felt like an eternity. An insurmountable stretch of time and space.
Gazing at her, he realized he may as well be sitting on the other side of the world for all the good it did him to be here, next to her. She had effectively shut him out and locked the door. Sam looked at him then, and his heart skipped.
From over Diego’s shoulder, he caught a glimpse of recognition, a tiny hint she understood what he felt.
But then she glanced away. It was clear, she judged his pain no longer to be her concern.
From the moment Sam heard, victory took up residence in her soul. She won. Not that she doubted for a second she would, but now it was real. Scaliano had skirted his responsibility for too long and now he would pay. The jury had been quite specific. Ten million, right where it hurt.
Just like she asked.
Kicked back in the chair across from her desk, dressed in shirt and slacks, champagne in hand, Diego said, “Dr. Pope is convinced the law will change. No lon
ger optional, AEDs will become standard equipment.”
“I hope so,” Sam said, peering at the stream of bubbles rising from the bottom of her flute.
Raul had delivered the set of crystal himself, along with a bottle of Cristal and a card. Scrawled inside in his distinct handwriting: Congratulations, partner.
Partner. The title skimmed her senses, swirled around her reverie like a silk-spun dream. Not only partner, but the first female partner in the firm’s near sixty-year history.
“Pope’s testimony was critical.” Diego said, “He had me worried there for a while, but the man came through.”
Thanks to Vic, she thought, though neither said a word.
And it was an awkward silence. Diego, now well aware of the personal relationship that existed—had existed—between she and Vic, cut a wide swath around the touchy subject. He and Vic had become friends, close friends, and he would not impugn him in any way.
Nor would she. So here in her office, discussing the completion of a case as was their habit, both remained mute on the absence of the man whose presence filled the room.
And it was uncomfortable.
Vic. Lover, associate, friend... He had done a good job. Better than good, she corrected, feeling free to compliment him within the safety of her mind. His performance had been phenomenal. Though he hit a rough patch with Pope early on, and Goldman had called him on it, he pushed forward.
Because he was a fighter, not a quitter.
Sam slipped into memory and recalled the first time they met, the very first time she had ever laid eyes on him. Her heart warmed at the image. Back then she had seen a falcon; a bird of prey, animal of steel. The kind that scoops up unsuspecting victims midstream and carries them off to his nest where he can later devour them. Her pulse skipped. Much like he did with her.
It was a skill he wielded not only in the courtroom, but the bedroom. Living her life, happy, independent, unfettered by the demands of others, he had swooped in and stolen her carefree heart away, devoured her mind body and soul.
“Boss?”
Maria’s voice burst through her musings.
“Hey Diego,” she added brightly.
“Hey, Maria.”
Sashaying to a stop before the two attorneys, she swept bangle laden hands to her hips. Fresh makeup, a zest in her step, Maria was about to shake some life into the festivities. “You ready to party?”
Diego popped up from his seat, his grin quick and eager. “I am!”
A state of mind Sam yearned to reclaim. And would. Starting right now. She surged from her seat. “You bet I am.”
“Manny’s, no?”
Sam grinned, struck by the odd contradiction in Maria’s speech. “Manny’s, yes!” she teased, and worked to regain her grip on “lighthearted and fun.” No more lonesome pining for her, she was moving on. “And then who knows from there!” She shook her hips. “Maybe a little salsa!”
“Watch what you’re doing with that thing,” Diego said, eyeing her dance moves. “You might hurt someone!”
Maria laughed.
“Guarantee I’m gonna hurt someone,” she replied with a grin.
“I told the guys that’s where we were going,” Maria said. “And Raul is meeting us down there, too.”
Maria, Diego, Raul—Sam was game for anyone else who cared to join the winning team for a victory drink. She didn’t expect Vic to show, but that was his choice. She noted the distance he was putting between them and she welcomed it. It seemed he was finally beginning to accept reality and move on. Back to Philadelphia, back to his normal life.
It was time. Jess was getting back to college and Sam was getting back to the business of her life. Her old life. The one she treasured. A pinch of regret rankled her mood. Freedom, success, a plethora of lovers. Vague ambivalence crept in.
Enough. She pushed past lingering doubt, past second thoughts and accepted the affair with Vic as a minor lapse in judgment, nothing more. The knowledge of his sister had simply cut through her defenses and rendered her sappy, vulnerable.
Sam’s heart pulled. It was the night she and Vic had said the words. I love you. Her heart squeezed, and her mood dipped. It had been the beginning of the end.
Stop. She shook her head and grabbed her jacket. She made a mistake. As soon as she learned the truth about his sister, she should have gone on offense, put some distance between Vic and the Perry case, herself included. But it was over, behind her.
Move on, she urged, refusing to dwell on the loss.
Though admittedly, she felt the vacancy. The caves in her heart, the emptiness in her bed... With time, she was sure it would diminish. It had to—what with Albright v. Perry finished, Vic would have the freedom to move on. He would become part of the criminal case while she would assume her new position as full-fledged partner. Gratification swelled, lifting her mood several degrees. Samantha Rawlings would soon become partner at Baker, Schofield, Martinez and Brown, the most illustrious and powerful law firm in the city. It was title she had sought from day one and one she had finally realized.
Determined to pull herself from the murky depths and reclaim her independence, Sam announced, “Let’s get to it.” Life was too short and she, a woman with too much to do.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“This is supposed to be a celebration dinner, Sam.”
Sam grunted, stewing in a mix of foolish pride and resentment. Pushing Jen’s homemade key lime pie aside, she grabbed her Cabernet and pushed back onto the sofa. She knew Jen had done to a lot of trouble tonight, wanting to share in Sam’s victory, but this afternoon had changed everything. Nothing could soften the betrayal she felt. Not wine from her favorite Jordan vineyard, her favorite meal of paella and key lime pie, or her favorite flamenco trickling through the speakers. Nothing.
Though she wished Jax were here. His relaxed and easygoing personality would have made for a nice diversion. But at his wife’s request, he left the two women to their privacy.
“You made partner.” Jennifer tapped her with a wary gaze. “Isn’t that what you wanted?
Partner of Raul’s, she thought, ingesting a fair dose of disappointment. The one man she thought she could trust. “Yippee.”
But that all changed when she learned the truth. One she knew in her gut. His insistence on Vic’s behalf ran deeper than senior partner bestowing favor upon new associate. But she hadn’t pushed. Hadn’t dug deeper to get at the truth. Why?
She had been too close. Personally involved with Vic, she had been too close to the situation to maintain clarity. Which had been a mistake.
“You’re being too hard on him.”
“Raul lied to me.”
“No he didn’t. He never said anything that wasn’t true.”
“Omitting the truth is the same thing as lying.”
“Is not. It was none of your business why the senior partner made the decision to include Vic and Raul was under no obligation to divulge his intentions.”
“It was my case.”
“You work for Raul.”
Sam didn’t like her tone.
“He had every right to ask you to include Vic. Besides, you said so yourself, he never forced him on you. You invited Vic to work the Perry case with you.”
“False pretenses.” She smacked Jen with a glare. “I’ve sued people for less.”
Jennifer sighed. “You’re missing the point.”
“I’m winning the argument.”
“Problem here is,” she cocked her head with a feigned smile. “I’m not arguing with you.”
“Stop trying to turn this around on me.” Sam pitched forward, fire rising in her belly. “Let me tell you something—I knew this wasn’t right, straight from the get-go. I knew Raul had hidden motives, I just didn’t know what they were.” And to hear him admit as much bothered her. More than she believed possible. She was pissed. Despite Jen’s theories, it wasn’t because she was sore over the break up with Vic. It was because she didn’t appreciate forces at play beh
ind the scenes. Her scene. Albright v. Perry had been her complaint from the start and Raul knew she demanded the freedom to try it as she saw fit.
But he had undercut her authority in the most subversive of ways. Unbeknownst to her, and Vic for that matter, Raul had a connection to the Marinelli family. Rather, his wife did.
Alana Martinez attended college at Brown University with Rosalee Dicaprio. The two roomed together for a while and over the years remained in touch. Alana knew of her friend’s marriage to Dominique Marinelli, the birth of her son Victor, followed by the birth of her daughter Anna…as well as her death; the one that changed her friend forever.
Rosalee had shared her son’s drive for revenge and the man he held responsible. When the call came fore-warning Alana of her Victor’s move to Miami, she implored her husband to help, to pave the young man’s way and help him find closure so that his family could heal.
Knowing Raul as she did, Sam expected nothing less from him. But she felt like a puppet. And she was nobody’s puppet, damn it. Nobody’s.
“And Vic?” Jen pursed her lips. “You were on to him too, were you?”
Sam tossed back the last swallow of wine and planted her glass on the sofa table. “Nice aim.”
“Well?”
“Well what? The man had an agenda.” And she got caught in the crossfire. “One I eventually figured out.”
“And you didn’t cut him loose. You didn’t hold a grudge.”
“That was different.”
“How so?”
“He couldn’t help himself.”
“He’s a grown man,” Jen objected. “He was no innocent. He understood what was at stake and he played you.”
“What the hell are you trying to do—rub my nose in it?” Sam fought the desire to leave. She didn’t appreciate Jen’s inside attack though deep in heart, she knew she needed to hear it.
“I’m trying to make sense of it for you. Raul did what he believed was the right thing to do. For a friend. Vic did what he believed was the right thing to do. For his family. And you,” she paused, fixing Sam with determined blue eyes. “You did what you believed right… For your heart.”
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