揕et抯 discuss what your firm can do for us,?he says when we get downstairs. He walks outside and I follow, wondering why the hell he抯 only bringing this up now. 揗y place is right around the corner, and I have a very nice Veuve Clicquot in the fridge.?
Oh, my fucking God. I don抰 need anyone抯 business so much that I抣l spend an hour in his apartment fending him off to get it.
揑抳e got to be in early tomorrow.?I extend my hand. 揃ut it was nice to meet you.?
He grabs my wrist and pulls me against him. 揑 liked meeting you,?he says, standing way too close. 揂 lot.?
And then he presses my hand to his crotch.
I gasp, and he grins, as if this is all playfully charming. I try to pull my hand back but he holds my wrist tight, and places my closed fist against his erection.
揕et go of my hand,?I snap.
His grip tightens. 揅ome on, Gemma. I think this could work for us both.?
It抯 not the first time I抳e been hit on by a client, but it抯 by far the most egregious. 揕et go of my wrist right now.?
He moves my fist over his length instead. 揧ou抳e had me hard all through dinner. You seem like fun.?
I open my palm, then grab him and squeeze as hard as I possibly can. 揌ow fun do I seem now, asshole??I demand.
He releases my wrist at last, gasping in pain.
揧ou fucking bitch,?he hisses as I walk to my car.
I flip him off, but my hands are shaking as I fumble with my keys.
In a different sort of world, I抎 be going straight to the police to file charges, or straight to the media to tell them what an utter douche the CEO of West Forest is. In the real world, I抦 on the cusp of getting the promotion I抳e always wanted, and the last thing I need right now is to get pegged as a hysterical female and have the partners suggesting I invited what Webber just did.
I want the world to be a different place for the women who come after me. And the only way to make that happen is to ignore the fact that it isn抰 different yet.
But I抦 so goddamned tired of staying silent just to get the things I deserve.
6
The following afternoon, Ben asks me to meet him to discuss Lawson. Fiducia wants to settle, apparently, now that Margaret has switched to our firm.
I feel a weird sort of disappointment. I guess I was just looking forward to the fight.
We抮e both working out of the municipal courthouse all afternoon, so he suggests lunch at a restaurant nearby. It would be strange, having lunch with Ben alone, but I抦 so distracted by what happened last night I barely notice.
I pick at my salad while he tells me things I already know. He wants to keep opposing counsel from getting too comfortable by behaving as if we抮e still going to trial. As I抎 fully planned to do.
揥e抣l ask for copies of the managers?files,?Ben says, 揳s well as Margaret抯。？
揑抳e already written the request,?I tell him dully. 揑t抯 in your inbox.?My fingers encircle my wrist, just beneath the sleeve of my jacket梚t抯 bruised. And the reminder feels like a sort of condemnation, as if I抳e done the wrong thing, letting Webber get away with it. But am I really supposed to risk my career to right the scales of justice? Can抰 I just leave that to someone else?
Ben抯 eyes meet mine for a long moment. 揧ou抮e quiet today.?
揑抦 always quiet.?
揥hat did you do to your wrist??he asks, brow furrowed.
揘othing.?I jerk my hand away while all the blood drains from my face, hating there抯 even a hint of emotion in my voice. Why the fuck am I sitting here feeling guilty about last night? Why does this stupid bruise bother me so much? If I抎 complained, I抎 be made to feel like shit by Webber and every man I work with. So I said nothing, yet I feel like shit about that too.
I guarantee Tim Webber hasn抰 given it a second thought.
We walk outside. 揑抳e called an Uber,?I tell Ben, looking past the sedan pulling up in front of us. 揑 can抰 walk back in these heels.?
His gaze drifts to my shoes, a light flush grazing his cheekbones. 揗aybe you should wear normal shoes like everyone else.?
揗aybe you should attempt to be good at your job instead of棓 My words fall away entirely as a familiar face emerges from the sedan.
I抳e only seen Meg Lawrence once in six years, and the last time she pretended not to know who I was. That抯 the outcome I抦 hoping for, at present. She had her chance to try to make things right, and it抯 long since passed.
揋emma,?she says, blinking in surprise. Dammit.
揗eg,?I reply briskly, unsmiling.
Her gaze darts to Ben, then back to me. 揑t抯 been ages.?
揘ot long enough.?I walk past her to our car, which has just pulled up, thank God. I regret making this a thing in front of Ben, but it抯 better than having her spill a story for him I抎 rather no one knows.