Resisting Mr. Kane (London Mister #2)(31)

I cringe. “I’ll try.”

“A fucking linen closet,” he mutters, shaking his head as he walks away.

“You might have solved your problem. He probably won’t want to date you after this,” Megan adds unhelpfully.





10




Tristan

“Mr. Kane?”

I snap my eyes up from Elly Andric’s social media profile on my phone. Why did she introduce herself as Elena if all her goddamn social media is under Elly? Her social media seems tame enough, but Sunday morning’s surprise encounter has left me thoroughly confused.

“We have secured the McKenzie case,” Sam says. “They signed the papers today.”

“Good.” I nod. Sam is one of my London managing partners. The McKenzie lawsuit is projected to pull us in £2.5 million this quarter. “I’ll personally oversee this one,” I say to the boardroom. “Mark McKenzie and I go back years.”

I turn to Liz, head of operations. “What’s the headcount we need on it?”

She squints at her laptop. “Ten senior lawyers, roughly fifteen juniors, a few paralegals supporting for circa six months.”

“We’re at capacity,” Rebecca cuts in. She’s worked for me for fifteen years and she’s the only one who has the guts to question my judgement, on the rare occasion. “Tristan, we need more staff. Right now, the ratio is about one senior lawyer to thirty-two cases. Maybe we should relax our recruitment criteria. Giving one in every forty people we interview a position isn’t efficient.”

“We are not compromising on quality,” I bark back at her. “We are Madison.”

Her lip curls in displeasure. “Then we have to start turning high-profile cases away.”

I exhale heavily. “Can’t Hong Kong take on some of the international ones?” I look to my Hong Kong managing partner across the video link.

“Sir, the Hong Kong office is already on overtime,” she says over the link. “We’re executing an aggressive recruitment campaign but getting bums in seats is difficult.”

“The right bums,” I correct. “What’s the current headcount?”

“Globally 8,060, give or take,” Simon, head of recruitment, responds. “We need an uplift of ten per cent this year alone in Asia and Europe.”

I rap my knuckles on the desk. “Let’s look at the recruitment budget again. Send me the numbers, Simon.”

“Yes, sir.” He nods.

I turn to Paula, our secretary. “Any more items on the agenda?”

She scrolls down her laptop, brow furrowed. “Rebecca wants to discuss one of the cases under contract negotiation—the Garcia case.”

“That’s right,” Rebecca addresses me. “Tristan, we have to turn it down. We don’t have the headcount. It’s too high profile without the right people on it.”

My eyebrows crease together. “Remind me what it is?”

“Maria Garcia, wife of Rocco Garcia?” she prompts. “She’s seeking asylum in the UK. She claims that she killed Rocco in self-defence by stabbing him with a knife when he attacked her.”

“What’s so special about this one?” I ask. I recall snippets of the case.

“Rocco was a famous hotelier across Central and South America,” Liz reads from her laptop. “Maria fled to the UK before the trial claiming she was in danger with the Colombia mafia. She says that Rocco was part of a ring of sex traffickers, and they will kill her because she knows too much. The Colombian government want to expedite her back to Colombia to stand trial for murder.”

The name is familiar. Rocco Garcia… Jack bought two hotels from him a few years back.

“Media coverage is swelling,” Rebecca adds. “But we have to turn it down. Such a pity because these types of cases are perfect for our junior lawyers to shadow on. They don’t come up often.”

My spine straightens. “No, let’s not turn it down. I’ll do it.”

The entire boardroom looks at me, confused.

“You will do it, sir?” Sam asks.

“That’s right.”

“Why, Tristan?” Rebecca probes. “If you really want us to do it, we’ll give it to the East London office.”

“No need,” I say, irritated with my senior staff for questioning me. “I’m still a lawyer, last time I checked. I’ll do it.”

“But sir…” Sam starts.

I stare at him.

“Nothing,” he stammers.

I dare them to question me further. Even Rebecca stops when she sees the look on my face. I know it’s ridiculous for me to take the case.

“Anyone specifically you want on the team, Mr. Kane?” Simon queries.

A brief smile spreads across my face.

Elly

It’s midnight on Thursday night, and I can’t sleep.

Thank God it’s Friday tomorrow so I can complete my first full week of professional employment. Twenty percent of the work is interesting, and the other eighty percent is shit I don’t want to do. Movies only show court scenes and lawyers having important conversations as they walk quickly down corridors. Doing exciting lawyerly stuff.

They don’t show the lawyers working their way up by photocopying, proofreading and taking minutes, do they? In fact, I’ve come to the conclusion that ninety per cent of every job, whether you are a lawyer, brain surgeon or priest, is reading emails.