The Billionaire’s Secret Wife(34)
“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 aware 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.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I need to know to do what I do best.”
“I understand, but the client’s a bit eccentric.”
“If I can’t even know who the client is, what am I doing?”
“Nothing too complicated. You just need to”—he raised his shoulders in a careless shrug—“review some documents that the in-house counsel’s been working on.”
“That won’t take me any time at all.”
“Oh there are quite a lot of them. Fortunately, there’s no real rush. So you won’t need to work more than forty billable hours a week on this.”
“So I can still work on the Solaris case.”
“No.” John sighed. “The new client will be your only one. For the time being.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“Vanessa. I assure you, this won’t count against you.”
“Right.” She knew how the game was played. If other people had more billable hours than she did, she’d look bad in July, no matter what John said now. She gave him a hard stare. “Are you doing this because you have somebody else in mind for July?” she asked point-blank.
John started. “What? No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then there’s no reason for you to take me off the Solaris case. Put somebody else on this new thing. Like Stan.”
“Vanessa—”
“You know this is going to hurt me. I’ve dedicated my life to this firm.”
“Yes, I understand that. But I give you my word, this won’t be a black mark on your record. Quite the contrary. We’ll be counting your billable hours at two and a half times the actual rate. So even though you’ll be putting in forty, it will count as a hundred.” He spread his hands and beamed at her.