Once again Cam felt fear deep inside himself. It was very good, a smart idea, to make things much more difficult for a physical attack against the clinic to succeed. He really appreciated the way so many people were working together to provide a safe place for the shape-shifters. But what if George was actually telling the truth? What if the property really did belong to him? What if no matter how good an attorney Sierra was, it was out of her control to save the clinic for Oscar? What if everything they were doing was going to be for nothing because George would take the land back and there’d be no clinic, no place for shape-shifters to be healed, and no job and livelihood for them all? It was a terrible thought, running through his heart and making his belly clench with fear. Oh God! How could they cope if everything they’d dreamed about and worked for came to an end?
* * * *
Sierra turned the invitation over and stared at it. Now what do I do?
It was after ten at night and she was still seated at her office desk. The late hour was demonstrated clearly by her overflowing out-tray, her almost empty in-tray, and the row of empty containers pushed to the far corner of the desk—three empty coffee cups, one empty noodle bowl, a muffin wrapper decorated with crumbs, and a half-empty yoghurt tub, the spoon still resting inside it.
It’d been a long Saturday, but a productive one. One of the things she’d done was check and double-check all the paperwork about Thorne House Clinic. She’d searched every avenue she could think of and there were no signs of deed restrictions on that land. The city authorities had no grounds to genuinely believe there were. All she could assume was that they’d been given inaccurate information, or someone had been bribed. Well, she had strategies in place now to deal with either—or both—of those possibilities.
She couldn’t see anything left out or handled wrongly, but she wanted to let the case simmer at the back of her mind some more. Sometimes letting her subconscious work on a problem helped her think of something new to check and George’s absolute belief the property belonged to him was a little disturbing to her. Not just to her reputation, but also because she cared about the clinic and the people there. She’d hate to have missed some important point.
Now, what the fuck do I do about this?
“This” was the invitation to the Gala Celebration, an event she’d agreed to attend weeks ago. An event she’d considered bringing Fergus and Cam to as well. She’d decided that because she absolutely needed to use the evening to network and find more clients, to prove to all the male attorneys out there that she was just as comfortable and successful at high-end social events as in the courtroom, she would go alone. Going alone meant all her time and energy was directed at working the event, meeting and greeting, getting her name and face known.
If she took the men with her she’d have to explain things to them, talk to them, dance with them. Yes, she’d completely enjoy being held in their arms and dancing the night away with them both, but this event was work. Time was running out and she needed to keep climbing the career ladder. She couldn’t risk any of the aggressive young attorneys at the firm catching up to her level. She couldn’t let them steal her clients or potential clients. If she lost her rainmaking ability she’d be out on her ass faster than she could blink.
There was also the whole ménage issue to consider. While she was reasonably certain most people would merely think she was trying to outplay the opposition at their own game by bringing two escorts, it was possible someone would decide she was involved in a ménage and set out to ruin her career on sexual grounds. She’d been careful and had never so much as touched either Fergus or Cam in public, but who knew what people might say out of jealousy and spite.
But this event was designed for people to be partnered, for the top guests to bring their wives and kids to prove what awesome family men they were, as well as supreme in their various fields. So if she turned up alone that would be a black mark against her. It would imply she was too lazy, too ugly, too socially inept to have a partner.
In the past Sierra’d had a mutually satisfactory arrangement with a young attorney who specialized in criminal law, an area she tried to avoid. He wanted to meet the right people but wasn’t high enough up the legal tree yet to be invited himself. She needed a man to dance attendance on her and treat her like a precious jewel for a night. Their system had worked well. He’d deferentially stood at her shoulder, handing her drinks—always water but only the two of them knew that—touching her arm gently, smiling at her, hanging on every word she uttered, and she’d introduced him to everyone who mattered in his chosen area of specialization.