Ruthless Rival (Cruel Castaways #1)(88)

Shit.

“The man of the hour,” drawled Cromwell, fingering his mustache like a D-grade villain.

“The belle of the ball.” Traurig nudged Claire aside. “I have a Cuban cigar with your name on it and some gold lettering we need to add to the firm’s name. The maintenance guy is already there, waiting for us. Hurry up.”

The maintenance guy was there, waiting to put my letters up. Hunky freaking dory. Claire flashed me a look that said Don’t you dare. She had a point. If I bailed now, I was going to look like a deranged idiot—not the best look. Plus, the outcome wasn’t anything Arya hadn’t been expecting. We’d been discussing this for weeks.

Ten minutes, however, somehow bled into eternity. It took the maintenance guy almost an hour to add the golden letters at the entrance to the firm, possibly because Cromwell and Traurig kept shouting at him that my last name wasn’t symmetrical. After which I was dragged into one of the conference rooms, where the entire firm waited with cake, cigars, booze, and a huge present wrapped in a red satin bow.

“I’m so proud of you. I cannot even tell you how much,” my PA wept. Then every single person on the floor felt the urge to congratulate me and shake my hand, one by one.

I kept telling myself that if Arya was so desperate to talk to me, she could always call my office.

When the Oscar-worthy ceremony was over—two freaking hours later—Traurig asked that I open my giant gift. It turned out to be new business cards with the full, new name of the firm: Cromwell, Traurig & Miller. Bold golden lettering over sleek black cards. I waited for euphoria to take over my senses. But all I could feel when I stared at my new business cards was: I really want to see Arya. Not this evening. Not in an hour. Now.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice steely, circling my fingers around Claire’s arm and leading her out of the conference room. I glanced at my watch again on my way to my office. It seemed like centuries since we’d left the courtroom. The fact I hadn’t called Arya thus far was ill mannered at best and cunt-a-licious at worse.

When we got to my office, I closed the door behind us. My spidey sense told me there was going to be a lot of shouting in my near future.

“Give me my phone, Claire.”

She winced. “So soon? We haven’t even had lunch. I was thinking maybe I could buy you a drink. We have a lot to talk about, and I—”

“Phone!” I slapped my hand on the wall behind her, and she squeaked, jumping. I was not a violent person, but I was starting to lose my patience and didn’t want my first move as a partner to be firing an associate who’d just helped me win a huge case. “Or you walk out of here with security at your fucking heels, Lesavoy.”

With a pout, Claire produced my phone from her pocket. I glanced at it, feeling my pulse quickening against the collar of my shirt. I had over fifty missed calls from Arya. And some texts too. The minute the face recognition was on, the texts began sliding down chronologically on the screen one by one.

Arya: How could you do this to me?

Arya: You’ve SHATTERED my career. I can’t show my face ever again. And my nonexistent relationship with my mother is over. Not to mention my father (who is dead to me, but it would have been nice to make that choice myself).

Ruined her career? Her relationships? What the hell was she on about?

Arya: What I don’t understand is how you could be so heartless? How you did it on the same night you promised you wouldn’t break my trust.

Arya: I’ll give you that, it was a genius move. You probably had a blast laughing about it in court. Now you can go back to Claire. I know you guys were casual, but man, you deserve each other.

Claire must’ve seen the confusion clouding my face, because I noticed her licking her lips in my periphery, shifting from one foot to the other. “Everything okay?”

“I—” I paused, trying to understand what was happening here, until it clicked. The limo. Claire talking to Darrin. Knowing my whereabouts with Arya. The way she’d pursued me relentlessly.

Press. That was the one thing Arya and I had agreed not to involve. We didn’t want to be seen or caught.

My eyes glided up from my phone. I could feel my gaze turning hard, callous, as I watched Claire’s face. “What have you done?”

“I . . . I . . .” She tried to take a step back, but she was pressed against the wall, with nowhere to go. I’d never thought of myself as someone who could hurt a woman, but in that moment, I knew I could hurt Claire. Not physically, no. But I could fire her. Banish her. Make her a persona non grata in Manhattan’s legal circle.

“Speak.”

Claire dropped her head, shaking it as she covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry. I just told a friend of mine who works at the Manhattan Times. That’s it. It slipped.” She cringed. But she wasn’t fooling anyone, and she knew it. I took a step back, knowing full well I wasn’t in control of myself. Arya must be thinking the worst of me right now.

“Leave.” I breathed through my nose, digging my thumb and index finger into my eye sockets.

“To . . . my office?”

“To . . . the fucking hellhole where you came from.” I mimicked her tone derisively, opening my eyes again. “And don’t come back. Ever.”

“We just won a case.”

“You lost all credibility with me the minute you leaked a story about me to a journalist.”