“Four more women stepped forward and decided to join Amanda Gispen’s lawsuit. One has some colorful, very intimate pictures your father had sent her. Not something you’d like to see yourself but something I’m obligated to share with others to zealously represent my clients, which means including this in the evidence, so the photos will be presented, enlarged, in the courtroom during trial.”
Pressing a hand against the redbrick building of my office, I inhaled a jagged breath, trying not to appear as devastated as I was. This was getting out of control. There were now five women testifying against him? And there were pictures?
Did he do it? Could he?
Now I knew why my mother had said she didn’t want to know. The answer was terrifying. One complaint was something I could rearrange in my head. Make excuses for, in the absence of context and other victims. Five were problematic. Especially as, being a woman myself, I knew how overwhelming the prospect was of sitting on a stand in front of seasoned lawyers, getting grilled and questioned about something so deeply triggering. I felt my knees go weak.
Christian studied me intently, like he was waiting for the penny to drop. “This thing is not going away, Ari.”
“Ari?” I jumped, my eyes widening.
“Arya,” he amended, flushing slightly. “Your life’s about to implode if you don’t step away from this.”
“Seems like it, and you’re all too eager for the fireworks part. Are you expecting me to drop my own father as a PR client?” I tossed my hair to one shoulder.
“No, I’m expecting him to drop your firm and spare you the awkward conversation. Ask Jillian to drop him if you don’t feel comfortable doing it.” How did he know about Jillian? Did he genuinely think I believed he was worried for me and mine? “You should do the right thing by taking a step back from this. Though come to think about it, I have no idea why you haven’t done so already.”
“Don’t pretend like you know me,” I bit out. “And don’t exhale smoke on me.” I grabbed the cigar from between his fingers, snapped it in two, and dumped it in a nearby trash can.
“You’re crazy,” he said, but his face showed amusement, not anger. He enjoyed riling me up. Got off on my wrath. “Which, by the way, I find oddly delightful.”
“Don’t flirt.”
“Why not?” he asked. Ugh. Good question. The attraction was maddening.
“Claire?” I asked tiredly.
He shook his head. “Firmly in the past as of last week.”
“Sorry to hear,” I said, in monotone.
He grinned. “No, you’re not.”
“You’re right. I’m pretty focused on the shit show called my family life right now.”
“Understandable.” He couldn’t stop staring at me, and vice versa.
“I appreciate the heads-up, Mr. Miller.”
“The trial will be fast. Judge Lopez doesn’t want a spectacle. The evidence is overwhelming. This should be a quick wrap-up.”
“Now would be a good time to stop talking.” I swiveled toward the entrance door, ready to leave.
“Arya?”
Was he deaf?
I turned back to face him, a plastic smile on my face. “Yes, Christian?”
“Don’t go to court next week. There will be things there you don’t want to see. Not to mention it’s career suicide for you.” His voice was soft, his eyes not as cold as they had been days before, at the sauna.
“Some things are worth dying for. He’s my father.”
“Yes. Your father. Not you. As soon as the motion for joinder is granted, the media will be all over this, and no cute picture of your dad in a hospital kissing babies is going to make this go away. Investors will pull their money from his hedge fund. The board will probably make him resign. The charges have changed, and so has the punishment, the very fabric of the case. Conrad Roth is not coming back to Wall Street. If you still want a career, now’s the time to distance yourself from him.”
“Would you turn your back on your parent like that?” I tapered my eyes, searching his.
Christian smiled sadly, looking down. His thumb rolling over his matchbook. “I would run over my parents with a semitrailer for a lukewarm cup of tea. And I’m not even a tea person. So I’m not sure I’m the right person to be asked this question.”
Something about what he said made me feel raw, naked. Guilty.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
He shook his head, finding my gaze. “No. You have your own family to worry about.”
“Yes. And I choose to give my father the benefit of the doubt.”
“There is no doubt. His crimes are objective reality, fully recorded and witnessed. I’m not the murderer of your father’s good reputation. I’m merely the coroner. The body was already cold when I got here. Plus, there’s also another matter to consider.”
“And that is?”
“I can’t ask you out as long as you’re linked to the case.”