The Billionaire's Secret Wife

“I want you to pull Vanessa Pryce off all her cases.” Especially the ones she was working on with Felix Peck. “I’d like her to work on a special project for us instead.”

“That can certainly be arranged.”

Justin smiled. Highsmith didn’t even try to argue, and he liked that. Lawyers should work to please him. “Have her work no more than forty, but feel free to bill a hundred. Keep my name and the Sterling & Wilson connection out of it—this must be absolutely confidential. You can send a retainer agreement to my office in Chicago. Have it addressed to my assistant.”

“It will be my pleasure to do so.”

Justin could feel the man crow over the phone. Highsmith was a weasel—a very good one—and he was Justin’s weasel now. He would do whatever Justin told him to keep Sterling & Wilson as a client.

Justin hung up, fully satisfied.

* * *

Vanessa went to the office early. Since it was an off day she wore a black T-shirt with a shark across her chest and khaki shorts. A few of the associates working over the weekend were also casually dressed. Felix waved from a conference room, and Vanessa went over.

“Get that shit-eating grin off your face,” Felix said. “Highsmith’s been looking for you.”

Vanessa blinked. “He has?”

“Yeah. It kind of felt urgent.”

She cursed under her breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She didn’t work closely with him, but she knew his reputation: impatient and exacting. “Why didn’t you call?”

“He didn’t want me to. He just asked you to join him in his office as soon as you get in.”

That’s weird. John didn’t believe in wasting even a second of his time. Non-billable moments had no place in his life. “Okay. Thanks.”

She walked down the hall and stopped in front of the dark wood door with a golden plaque that read: John P. Highsmith. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, then knocked.

“Come in!”

The corner office had a priceless antique mahogany desk with a leather executive chair. The windows had a spectacular view of downtown Los Angeles, and the pristine cream walls had built-in shelves with what probably amounted to a metric ton of leather-bound legal tomes and awards. A sleek silver laptop and a phone took up the right side of his desk, while four accordion folders sat on the left.

“You wanted to see me?”

John nodded, his eyes shrewd. He’d always reminded Vanessa of a big bruiser, the kind of a guy she might see working as a bouncer at a popular club, except he always wore suits no bouncer could afford and a superior smile that said he never lost. Given his reputation, he probably actually hadn’t lost a lawsuit in at least the last decade.

“Have a seat.” He waited until she lowered herself onto a plush armchair across from him. “I understand you’re working on the Solaris case?”

“Yes. Harry Dickson assigned me to it, along with Felix.”

“Mm. Well, I’m pulling you off it.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“It’s in the best interests of the firm to do so. You’ll be working on a highly confidential case instead.”

“Is Harry a

ware of this?”

“Yes, but he couldn’t tell you this in person since he had to fly to Florida. His mother had her monthly crisis.”

Harry’s mother’s “monthly crises” were infamous at the firm. They required her only son to fly to Miami to see her. One time he’d ignored her, and she’d supposedly had a heart attack.

“So who’s the client?” Vanessa asked.

“As I said, the case is confidential. So I’m afraid I can’t disclose the name.”