Silver-spooned princess.
I was starting to imagine things now too.
It was bad enough Christian had been at the Brewtherhood the other day. What were the chances that the place Jilly and I had wanted to try for so long was his hole-in-the-wall? Now I had to watch as he destroyed the only real family I had left.
I squeezed Dad’s damp hand. He’d aged a decade in a month. Ever since news about the lawsuit had broken, he’d been hardly sleeping or eating. Last week, I’d taken him to a psychiatrist. She’d prescribed him Ambien and another pill that was supposed to raise his serotonin levels. So far neither had helped.
“Hey. Don’t worry. Terrance and Louie are the best in the business.” I brushed the back of his hand. He turned to look at me, red eyed.
“The second best in the business. Amanda hiring Miller makes no sense. I heard he’s not even accepting new clients.”
“He saw a huge case and took it.” I scanned the room. I’d never been in a courtroom before, so I had nothing to compare this one to, but the Daniel Patrick Moynihan Courthouse struck me as swanky. Downright theatrical, even. Red velvet curtains with gold tassels; never-ending, spiraling marble stairways; mahogany stands; and church-like pews that would be filled to the brim with journalists, photographers, and courthouse staff as soon as the actual trial began. For now, it was just the judge, the defendant, the plaintiff, and their teams.
I felt Christian Miller before I saw him. The back of my neck prickled with a hot sensation, and my whole body came alive, tingly everywhere. My hand quivered inside Dad’s. Guilt washed over me.
“I haven’t done anything wrong. Maybe a joke here and there—nothing sexual.” Dad stared down at our entwined hands. “With Amanda. It’s wrong to make an example out of me. I want this to be over, Arya.”
“It will be, soon.”
“Thank God I have you, sweetheart. Your mother is—”
“Useless?” I cut into his words. “I know.”
Christian, Amanda, and Claire appeared in my periphery. I didn’t dare look at him, but I saw the way he carried himself: sharklike, wry, and unruffled. His hair was freshly cut, his dark suit pressed, his tie a shade darker than his blue eyes. He sucked the attention out of everything else in the room.
Judge Lopez’s eyes lit when he saw Christian. It was obvious they knew each other.
“Saw you on the golf course this weekend, Counselor. Did Jack Nicklaus give you private lessons?”
“Your Honor, not to be humble, but I played against Traurig. You’ll see better swings at a school’s playground.”
I could tell Dad, Louie, and Terrance didn’t like that Christian was chummy with the judge by the way they shifted in their seats, scribbled notes on their legal pads, and sweated buckets. Dad released my hand from his and massaged his temples. I swiveled to look at him. “Everything okay?”
He nodded but didn’t answer.
A few minutes later, when Louie and Christian moved to talking about voir dire and juror selection, it was obvious Christian had come more prepared and ready. Claire shot him adoring looks, and a pang of jealousy sliced through me. It was perfectly obvious they were sleeping together and that she was in love with him.
It was also perfectly obvious I needed to stop drooling over the lawyer who wanted to destroy my father.
The rest of the hearing was a blur. The two parties discussed dates and how long the trial was expected to last—four to six weeks. I spent the time mainly studying Christian, wondering why on earth he seemed familiar.
“See something you like?” Dad’s voice broke me out of my daydream.
I straightened in my seat, clearing my throat. “Would like to push off a cliff, more like.”
It wasn’t anything about his looks. I’d never met a man so beautiful. Rather, there was something about his eyes. The way he cracked his knuckles when he spoke and that boyish, bashful grin he let loose when he thought no one was looking and was writing down notes for himself.
When all was done and dealt with for the day, Christian, Amanda, and Claire dashed out first. Dad, Louie, and Terrance loitered behind. Dad’s mouth was pressed in a thin line. I produced a bottle of water, handing it to him. “This means nothing. So Judge Lopez knows Miller. It was expected. He’s a litigator, after all.”
“Put a lid on it, Arya. This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you.” Dad brushed my shoulder as he advanced toward the door, Louie and Terrance at his heel. I followed him, frowning. Insert record scratch.
What in the hell?
“Excuse me?”
This was the first time my father had ever been anything other than adoring to me, and the sting of his words caught me off balance.
“This whole charade is a long middle finger in our direction. A way to prove a point. To take us Roths down.”