“No,” I reply quickly. “No, it’s nothing like that. Just something Tasha and I talked about today.”
He grunts, taking a sip of his whisky. “I’ve been thinking about her lately. Your mother, that is.”
“You have?” I’m fiercely protective of my mom. Nick’s tone is nothing if not concerned, but God help me, as hard as I try to sound merely curious, there is a tightness in my voice that I can only pray he won’t detect. “What about her?”
He set
s his glass down, pensively rubbing his thumb along the rim. “I know people, Avery. Lawyers who might be able to help. Between Beck and I, we know dozens of the top attorneys in the country—including criminal defense lawyers. We know some judges too.”
I don’t say anything for a moment, uncertain what he might be suggesting and reluctant to guess. “She’s got a lawyer, Nick.”
He scoffs. “A public defender, who from what I’ve gathered from you would hardly be fit to represent the local dogcatcher.” As sharp as his opinion of Walter Stadler is, Nick’s careful to keep his voice quiet enough for my ears only. “I think I might be able to help. I want to help, Avery. We can get your mother a new team of lawyers right away. From there, we can work on getting her a new trial—with the kind of representation she deserved in the first place.”
I listen, stunned. Moved.
Terrified.
There’s so much he doesn’t understand. So much he doesn’t know—can’t know.
“Nick, the trial was hell on her. And now she’s in the infirmary with no idea how long she might be recovering. I don’t think she’ll agree to any of this—”
“Then you’ll have to convince her.” He reaches out for my hand again. “Let me do this for her. For you.”
“Nick, I just . . .” I shake my head lamely as his gaze bores into me. Nick is a man used to making the whole world bend to his wishes. I’ve seen him in action, so I know he’s fully capable of moving mountains if that’s what it takes to get what he wants.
This is different. I can hardly breathe as I look at his handsome face, so full of earnest conviction. So full of determination to fix something that cannot be fixed—not the way he thinks.
I’m touched that he wants to try, that he genuinely cares about my mother’s situation, and, by extension, that he cares for me.
But there are a hundred reasons why I cannot allow him to get involved. They all jam up in my throat, along with the fear I have that one day, I won’t be able to keep them inside anymore.
“Nick.” I swallow, my mouth gone suddenly dry. My hand is still captured in his grasp, my gaze caught just as surely by the unwavering intensity of his unblinking eyes. “I don’t . . . I don’t know what to say—”
“Hello, Dominic.”
The cultured female voice catches both of us unaware.
I feel the small jolt of Nick’s pulse where his hand covers mine, but it’s there and gone in an instant. Without removing his touch from me, his face remains impassive, impossible to read. But the toneless sound of his voice tells me just how displeased he is by the interruption.
“Kathryn.”
My heart lurches in my breast. I know this woman’s name. Granted, her name is essentially all I know about her. Nick has refused to discuss her with me, other than to admit that they had been intimate at one time, years ago, when he first came to New York. He said she was only in his life for a short while, and although I try to reassure myself with that knowledge now, it’s obvious from the change in his demeanor that this woman still has some power over him.
It’s startling to realize it.
In the months I’ve been with him, I’ve known no one else who’s been able to rattle Dominic Baine’s flawless control.
She’s come in with two other women, all of them dressed in classic New York black and dripping with elegant jewelry. She waves her companions ahead as she pauses at our table and gives Nick an uncertain smile. “You look well, Dominic.”
He grunts. “You look tired, Kathryn.”
He’s rude, but he’s right, I notice. There is a vaguely haggard quality to her refined, beautiful face. She is tall and lean, almost waiflike, with a thick mane of stylish gray waves that gleam like quicksilver in the flattering light of the restaurant. The lack of lines in her porcelain skin suggests an abundance of vanity and the means with which to indulge it, but no surgeon can remove the hauntedness that lives in her dark eyes.
She glances at me briefly, and I feel an inexplicable stab of sympathy for her. Nick is reputed to be merciless when it comes to his former lovers, a fact that isn’t totally lost on me as I sit awkwardly in front of him while he freezes her out with his silence.
Kathryn affords me a pleasant, if uncertain, smile before returning her attention to Nick. He lifts his glass to his lips and drains the rest of the whisky as if she’s already moved on from our table.
“Jared mentioned he saw you a few weeks ago at the mayor’s party. It would’ve been nice if you’d come over to say hello.”