without even hearing her out.
Finally, he nodded. “All right. Give me your number and I’ll call you when I get out of court. It may be late.”
She let her breath out slowly.
“That’s fine. I’m not going anywhere.”
…
If there was one thing Sam was good at, it was compartmentalizing his life, locking problems away to be dealt with later, so that he could focus clearly on the matter at hand. It had gotten him through a rocky childhood and served him well in his chosen career.
When he faced the jury, no other thought intruded on his impassioned plea for justice for his client—now a paraplegic thanks to a reckless driver who’d been too busy drinking coffee and texting at fifty miles per hour to notice the red light. Or the compact car coming through the intersection, and the promising high school basketball player in the passenger seat who was now never going to walk again. The driver herself didn’t have any money, but the insurance company was sure as hell going to pay every penny of the policy limits. His client’s mother sobbed quietly in the background as Sam wrapped up his closing argument.
But when he sat in an empty room in the courthouse, waiting for the jury to return, he let his thoughts entertain the puzzle of Camilla Winthrop showing up at his office. Clearly the woman had lost her mind. It was a pity, because she was even more attractive than he remembered. He’d been surprised at how strong the impulse had been to walk around the desk and take her into his arms to find out if the chemistry between them was really as strong as he remembered. Fortunately, reason prevailed. He was not going to take any chances with a woman who obviously had delusions about marrying him.
She had to be running some sort of scam, but he couldn’t figure out what her angle was. The sugar daddy she’d latched onto after Sam returned to Miami had apparently left her high and dry, and she’d decided to find out what had happened to that young lawyer she met once upon a time. Sam wasn’t that same kid anymore. He cringed when he remembered how he’d let his guard down, opened up to her, shared his plans and dreams. And apparently Camilla had found out he’d actually surpassed his own expectations.
When he’d started the firm with Jon and Ritchie, he’d expected to be successful. He just hadn’t imagined how successful they would be. It had been his idea, which was why his name was first on the door. But it hadn’t taken much to talk his law school buddy Jonathon Berrington, an associate at another of Miami’s major insurance defense firms, into trading in the long hours and associate’s salary for a chance to own their own firm and bring in million-dollar verdicts for plaintiffs. They would change people’s lives and make themselves rich in the process. As the plan began to take form, they’d added Ritchie Perez, a hotshot young prosecutor in the state attorney’s office, whose handling of high-profile drug and gang violence cases had catapulted him into the public eye as the champion of the underdog, a man who got justice for the little guy. It was exactly the image they wanted.
The three of them had agreed from the beginning that there would be no fender benders, no dog bites, no slip-and-fall cases handled by the law firm of Flanagan, Berrington & Perez. And no clients with dubious claims, no scammers in neck braces faking injuries. They weren’t ambulance chasers, and they wouldn’t take a case for a client who didn’t deserve to win. They would be the ones who stood up for the innocent victims of drunk drivers and of unscrupulous companies that ignored the warnings in their own product safety tests and caused needless suffering. They would specialize in wrongful death, serious bodily injury, and million-dollar verdicts.
And that’s exactly what they’d done.
“The jury’s in.”
Sam looked up, nodded to the bailiff, and went into the courtroom.
…
“You mean you didn’t tell