Filthy Lawyer (The Firm Book 1)

Whitney G.
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FILTHY LAWYER

THE FIRM SERIES

WHITNEY G.
 CONTENTS

A Note from Whitney G.

The Firm Series

Prologue
Damien
Negligence (n.)
Damien
Abandonment (n.)
Elizabeth
Tainted Evidence (n.)
Damien
Cross-Examination (n.)
Elizabeth
Motive (n.)
Damien
Good Faith (n.)
Elizabeth
Prove (v.)
Damien
Foreseeable risk (n.)
Damien
Probable cause (n.)
Elizabeth
Failure of Consideration (n.)
Damien

Escape Clause (n.)

Elizabeth
Disorderly Conduct (n.)
Damien
Discovery (n.)
Elizabeth
False Imprisonment (n.)
Damien
Incompatible (adj.)
Elizabeth
Irrelevant (adj.)
Elizabeth
Crime of Passion (n.)
Damien
Punitive Damages (n.)
Damien
Admission of Guilt (n.)
Damien

Object (v.)
Elizabeth
Modus Operandi (n.)
Elizabeth
Mitigating Circumstances (n.)
Elizabeth
Impossibility (n.)
Damien
Settle (v.)
Elizabeth
Two Stakeouts (& A Crime Scene) Later
Witness (n.)
Elizabeth
Third Party (n.)
Damien
Racketeering (n.)
Elizabeth
Harass (v.)
Elizabeth
Dismissal (n.)
Damien
Recuse (v.)
Elizabeth
Pro Bono (adj.)
Damien
Remand (v.)
Elizabeth
Possess (v.)
Elizabeth
Agreement (n.)
Damien
Performance (n.)
Elizabeth
Cite (v.)
Damien
Undue Influence (n.)
Elizabeth
Willfully (adv.)
Elizabeth
Control (n.)
Damien
Several Cases Later
Emotional Distress*
Elizabeth
Credibility (n.)
Elizabeth
Collateral Attack (n.)
Damien
Recess (n.)
Elizabeth
Notice (n.)
Elizabeth
Conflict of Interest (n.)
Damien
Carrying on business (v.)
Elizabeth
Risk of loss (n.)
Elizabeth
Release (v.)
Damien
Several Unresolved Cases (& Blocked Calls) Later
Mental Suffering (n.)
Damien
Privilege (n.)
Elizabeth
Surrender (v.)
Elizabeth
Deception (n.)
Damien
Redirect (n.)
Damien
False pretenses (n.)
Elizabeth
Unclean Hands (n.)
Damien
Rescue Doctrine (n.)
Damien
Fictitious Defendants (n.)
Damien
Gift (n.)
Elizabeth
Bargain (n.)
Damien
Void (adj.)
Elizabeth
Summons (n.)
Elizabeth
Reciprocity (n.)
Damien
Redeem (v.)
Elizabeth
Reasonable Doubt
Andrew
 For my BFF, Nicole London
(My books would suck without you)

& for the F.L.Y. Crew

(I love you more than you’ll ever know)
 A NOTE FROM WHITNEY G.

Dear Awesome Reader,

Thank you so much for picking up Filthy Lawyer! I hope you enjoy this fun and sexy trip to ‘the firm’ as much as I enjoyed
writing it!
If you want to be the first to learn of my upcoming releases, sales, and special things that I only offer to my readers, be sure to
sign up for my Exclusive F.L.Y. List. (F.L.Y. = Effin Love You. Because whether you love or hate this story, I still love you for
giving it a chance!)
Sincerely,
Whitney G.
 THE FIRM SERIES

In the criminal justice system, sexually charged stories are considered exceptionally addictive. In New York City, the
unforgettable characters who dominate these pages are filthy lawyers, sinful witnesses, and dirty judges.
These are their stories.
 SYNOPSIS

I crashed and burned before the most important interview of my life...

Yes, literally.
I rammed my crappy Honda into the back of a custom black McLaren, and the sexy bastard who owned it was far from
amused.
Especially when I abandoned him at the fiery scene with an "I.O.U.," twenty dollars, and a pack of glow-in-the-dark
condoms as payment. (I'm too broke to afford car insurance.)
I managed to make it to my interview with a few seconds to spare, but the partner I was expecting to meet wasn't there.
Instead, it was the unforgettable guy I'd just crashed into: Mr. Damien Carter. And his first question—‘Do you know that
running away from the scene of an accident is a crime?’—convinced me that I was not getting this job.
Alas, Hamilton & Associates called me back, and I slowly realized that there are far more coincidences between me and
my new boss.
Even though this grumpy bastard only utters demands and threats to me.
His firm is a place straight out of The Godfather, nothing like "the good guys on the right side of the law" on the
promotional billboards. Its walls hold secrets, the clients are guilty as charged, and Damien Carter is everything wrong with
the legal system.
Well, I thought that until we began a hate-love affair like no other, and I discovered his biggest secret of all...

Book 1 in The Firm Series

 PROLOGUE
YEARS AGO

DAMIEN

he brightest billboard in Times Square is flashing empty promises for a “new and improved” sleeping pill that has failed
T me hundreds of times before.
A suited businessman kisses a half-naked woman seconds before he jumps into an ocean of feathers and surrenders to
"endless slumber.”
Years ago, I would’ve been intrigued enough to order a monthly dose, but I’ve finally learned my lesson. I’ve tried every
formula on the market—Ambien, Temazepam, anything that ends in “lam”—and my suffering remains the same.
I can drift into momentary daydreams and shut my eyes for an hour at a time, but I haven’t experienced a whole night’s
sleep in years. The hypnotists and research doctors have declared me “a hopeless case” and “a high-functioning insomniac”
doomed to live this way forever.
Since I’ve given up fighting those facts, I work all night and in the shadows, bending and stretching every written rule
before it breaks.
Tonight is no exception.
Turning off my car’s headlights, I tap my screen to ensure I’m on track for my next client.
MISS WARREN
Are we still on for tonight?
Of course. I’m finishing up some last-minute things for work first.
MISS WARREN
Okay. You can come inside (no pun intended) whenever you get here. I left the door open. :-)

When I’m sure I have everything I need, I head into the building and take the elevator to apartment 33B.
An oversized wheelchair and a set of crutches guard the closet doors. Brochures from physical therapists hang from
colored thumbtacks.
Miss Warren, a stunning redhead, suddenly steps in front of me and smiles. Her silk black robe is hanging wide open,
revealing a silver bra and matching panties.
“Since you’re a professor,” she says, stepping closer, “I have an important question.”
“I’m listening.”
“Have you ever read a romance novel?”
“Not yet.”
“Well in the one I’m reading now, there’s a part where the hero picks up the heroine and fucks her against the wall,” she
says. “I want to try that tonight.”
“I thought you were recovering from leg surgery.”
“Why would you ever think that?”
I point at the wheelchair and crutches. “An easy assumption.”
“Oh, that…” She shakes her head. “No, those things aren’t mine.”
“Hmmm.” I push her against the wall, sliding a hand down her thighs. “So, your legs aren’t hurting at all?”
“Not at this moment.”
“And you’re not in any pain?” I whisper against her lips.
“No, unless you’re referring to the pain I want you to put on me.” She blushes. “I’m in the perfect condition to be fucked,
trust me.”
“So, why are you suing your ex-husband for abuse and claiming he left you with a permanent walking disability?”
“WHAT?” Her face pales. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You told the judge you couldn’t come to our first hearing because you can’t walk.”
 I smile, tapping her leg again. “But I guess I’m witnessing a miracle.”
“I can’t believe this…” She pushes me away. “Who the hell are you?”
“Your husband’s new lawyer,” I say. “Damien Carter from Hamilton & Associates.”
“That bastard hired a spy to trick me?” She ties her robe. “You told me you were a part-time professor who wanted to have
sex.”
“That’s technically true.” I spot a stack of condoms on her coffee table. “How many times were you trying to screw me
tonight?”
“Zero.” She points to the door. “Get the hell out of my condo. Now.”
“I suggest you call your lawyer around noon and drop this case,” I say. “No jury will believe you after they watch my
video.”
“What part of ‘get the hell out of my condo’ don’t you understand?”
“If there’s ever a lawsuit that you actually intend to win, here’s my card.” I gently tuck it under her bra strap and head to the
door. “I hope there are no hard feelings about this.”
When I reach the hallway, she slams the door in my face, and I take my time returning to my car.
Through her open windows, I spot her pacing frantically and talking on the phone, so I call my secretary.
“Yes, Mr. Carter?” she answers on the first ring.
“I sent you a video email,” I say. “Forward that to Judge Harmon in an hour.”
“Will do. Are you coming back to the firm tonight?”
“No, I think I have a date with someone.”
“You think? At three in the morning?”
“Yes,” I say. “See you soon.”
“See you soon, sir.” She hangs up, and I set a timer on my watch.
I’ve worked enough cases to know which clients harbor hard feelings and which don’t.
Five…four…three…
MISS WARREN
Are you still outside?
Yes.
MISS WARREN
I’m dropping the case against my ex.
That’s an excellent idea.
MISS WARREN
Soooo, if you can compartmentalize, I’d like to finish what we started. (I’ll save your name under Dirty
Lawyer)
I’ll be up in three minutes. (In that case, I’d prefer that you save it under “Filthy Lawyer”)
 NEGLIGENCE (N.)
FAILURE TO EXERCISE THE CARE TOWARD OTHERS WHICH A REASONABLE OR PRUDENT PERSON WOULD DO IN
THE CIRCUMSTANCES

DAMIEN

Present Day

he driver ahead of me had to be drunk, insane, or blind. That was the only explanation for the way his Honda swerved
T and stopped every few minutes.
“Learn how to drive!” “What the hell are you doing?” “Can someone call the police?”
Fellow drivers honked at him every few feet, but he didn’t seem to care; he was determined to make everyone’s morning
commute more miserable than usual.
The moment I could switch lanes, I was getting far away from his incompetence.
I turned on my windshield wipers and called my office at the firm.
“Good morning, Mr. Carter!” a woman who was not my secretary answered. “How may I help you on this dreary, drizzling
day?”
“Jessica, I’ve told you to stop sneaking behind Michelle’s desk. Put her on the phone.”
“Michelle is taking some personal time off to get over some things,” she said. “Her fiancé dumped her at the altar,
remember?”
“I never liked him anyway.”
“They were the perfect couple,” she said. “If they can’t make it, what does that mean for a lonely girl like me?”
“You stalked your last three boyfriends and hid cameras in their bedrooms.”
“It’s like men don’t even try anymore, you know?” she asked. “Every guy I love pushes me away for no reason.”
I held back on telling her that there was no hope for someone like her. She was batshit crazy and she always had been.
“Can you go over my schedule for today?” I asked instead.
“Sure,” she said. “First up, you have an appointment with your therapist.”
“Reschedule it.”
“You’ve been rescheduling this appointment for over a year now. Shouldn’t you just cancel?”
“I’ve already paid for the session.”
“Rescheduling now. After that, you have a block of interviews with first-year lawyers.”
“What?” I honked at the Honda as he swerved again. “Interviews?”
“Yes, interviews. It’s hunting season, remember?”
Shit.
The most dreadful time of the year had somehow circled around without a long enough break from the last occasion. Like
locusts, fresh lawyers swarmed every firm in the city, hoping to land new careers with recycled answers and resumes.
“I could’ve sworn I told Michelle to schedule a family emergency, so I wouldn’t have to deal with these.”
“That would’ve worked, except you don’t have a family.” She scoffed. “Nice try, though.”
“How many interviews do I have to suffer through today?”
“Four before lunch and sixteen after. Tomorrow, you have twenty-six.”
“Tomorrow I’ll be suffering from the flu,” I said. “Type that in for me.”
“Never. You have six client calls scheduled in between these sessions, and someone made an emergency appointment this
morning. Want me to read their claim?”
“No,” I said. “Save it for when I get there. I’ll see you soon.”
I ended the call, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel.
My partner and I needed to put an end to this torturous ritual after this year, once and for all. Our firm was unlike any other
firm in this city, so I didn’t understand why we insisted on recruiting like the others.
Suddenly, the Honda ahead of me slowed, and black smoke unfurled from its tailpipe.
A gap opened on my left, and a truck flashed its lights from behind.
Without hesitation, I switched lanes and sped ahead. Then I moved in front of the idiot Honda driver.
Through my rearview mirror, I looked back at him and realized it wasn’t a ‘he’ after all.
The visor concealed her face, but I could make out bright red bow-shaped lips.
She threw up a middle finger and honked at me.
Eeeewl! Eeeewl! EEEWL!
Her car squealed from behind as I pulled onto the exit ramp, and black smoke suddenly covered my rear windshield.
What the hell?
 ABANDONMENT (N.)
THE ACT OF INTENTIONALLY AND PERMANENTLY GIVING UP, SURRENDERING, DESERTING OR RELINQUISHING
PROPERTY, AND/OR PREMISES

ELIZABETH

“I t wasThejustguya tap,in the

asshole,” I muttered, holding up my middle finger again. “Just a tap.”
sports car thought he owned this road. All morning, he’d been riding my ass so closely, that I’m
shocked we didn’t touch sooner.
His license plate read NTGUILTY, and I just knew he was a tech bro or some CEO of a company who thought he was
untouchable.
Frustrated, I focused on the exit light ahead. This morning was already careening toward the brink of disaster, and I
couldn’t let it get any worse.
I was on my way to Hamilton & Associates, the most successful firm in the city, and I needed this job.
As soon as the light flashed red, I slammed my foot on the brakes.
Oh, shit that’s the gas.
My car jolted forward. Thick black smoke billowed from under my hood and clogged the windshield.
“What the hell, lady?” “Is she alive?” “Someone help to get her out!”
I unbuckled my seatbelt and pushed on my door, but it didn’t budge.
I leaned into it with my shoulder as hard as I could, and it finally gave in with a sickening squeal. I stepped out into the
rain, and my knees buckled.
Someone wrapped arms around me from behind and pulled me against something hard and chiseled.
“You are a fucking terrible driver,” the stranger tightened his hold on me, and I inhaled his woodsy, intoxicating scent.
He carried me to the emergency lane, and I coughed until my lungs were clear.
As the smoke cleared, I analyzed the damage.
My front bumper and grill were bent, but the sports car was now a crumpled can. Its trunk was wrinkled like a sweater, and
its rear window lay in shards on the asphalt.
“Are you color blind?” the deep voice said from behind, making me turn around.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
I sucked in a breath as I took in his beautiful face. Even though his jaw was clenched, and his blue eyes were filled with
rage, this man was sexy as fuck.
“Are you color-blind?” he repeated.
“Excuse me?”
“Are you —” He spoke a bit slower, looking as if he were seconds away from losing it. “Color-blind?”
“No.”
“Legally insane?”
“No.”
“What about physically ill?”
I shook my head.
“Thank you for making that clear,” he said. “Now, I can sue you without mercy for wrecking my favorite car.”
“Sue?” I crossed my arms. “Why can’t you wait for me to call my insurance company like a normal person?”
“Because you’re using a wire hanger to keep your muffler attached,” he said. “I highly doubt you have insurance. Do you?”
No. “Yes.” I kept my voice firm. “And as a lawyer, I don’t appreciate you making assumptions or threatening me with a
lawsuit you’d definitely lose.”
“You’re a lawyer?”
“A very established one.”
He looked me over as if he didn’t believe me.
 “I’d prefer if we handle this without getting any third parties involved,” I said, remembering my interview. “Let me pay you
for the damages outright.”
“Okay, Miss Lawyer.” He snapped a picture of his car before making a call.
I eyed him as he spoke to someone. His suit, watch, and Italian leather shoes were probably more than I’d make in the next
five years combined, and for some reason, he looked vaguely familiar.
Where have I seen this man before?
His stern gaze pinned me to the spot, and the adrenaline running through my veins dared me to step closer. He eyed my
dress, and I could tell he was feeling the same way.
“Okay, thank you.” He ended the call. “They’re willing to give me the final estimate when I take it in, but based on visuals
alone, it’ll be at least seventy-eight thousand.”
“Dollars?”
“No, donuts.” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, seventy-eight thousand dollars.”
“If that’s the case, you should just buy a new car.”
“Excuse me?”
“Even if I had that type of money—and I don’t—that’s a bit much for repairs.” I looked over at his car. “I mean, money is
clearly not an object for you, but for me—”
“Stop talking,” he interrupted. “I’ll call the police for an accident report, and you’ll call your insurance company.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Now.”
I took out my phone as if that scenario was possible.
“I have a better idea.” I held out my wallet. “You can have my wallet.”
“Is there seventy-eight thousand dollars in it?”
“No.”
“Then you can keep it.” He glared at me. “Call your insurance company.”
“I don’t have my phone on me.”
“It’s right there in your hand.” He looked at it. “Make the call.”
“Um…” I stepped back, and he stepped forward.
“Miss Lawyer…” He gritted his teeth. “Make. The. Call.”
“Okay, yeah. Yeah, I'll do that.”
“What company are you with?”
“It’s called—” I tossed my wallet at him and ran to my car mid-sentence, leaving him without an answer. Popping my trunk,
I grabbed my briefcase and umbrella, and then I rushed down the exit ramp as fast as I could.
When I was sure no one was following me, I stopped at the next light and hailed a cab.
I wasn’t missing this interview for the world.
 TAINTED EVIDENCE (N.)
IN A CRIMINAL TRIAL, INFORMATION WHICH HAS BEEN OBTAINED BY ILLEGAL MEANS OR HAS BEEN TRACED
THROUGH EVIDENCE ACQUIRED BY ILLEGAL SEARCH AND/OR SEIZURE

DAMIEN

hat woman better be going to an ATM.

T I stood on the bridge as rain pelted my suit. I was staring in the direction where the psychotic, sexy driver ran off,
expecting her to come back and handle this situation properly.
This was the first wreck I’d ever experienced in my life, and I refused to believe it would end unresolved.
This isn’t how I like to operate.
After waiting ten minutes for her return, I walked to my car and reached through my shattered rear window for my
briefcase.
Curious, I approached Miss Lawyer’s car and looked through the passenger side window.
A few post-it notes clung to her glovebox, marred with little reminders. The steering wheel was sheathed in leopard print
fabric, and red and black wires hung from the gear shift.
There’s no way in hell this woman has insurance.
While sirens sounded in the distance, I opened the wallet she left behind.
Tucked into the credit card folds were business cards from other law firms. Where the money should’ve been were more
business cards from law firms, as if she were collecting them like infinity stones. There was also an expired MetroCard, a gift
card to a West End deli, and two glow-in-the-dark condoms.
Medium-sized.
I can’t believe she offered this to me with a straight face.
“Sir?” Someone tapped my shoulder from behind. “Sir, are you one of the involved parties in this crash?”
I turned around to see a familiar police officer.
“Oh, it’s you, Mr. Carter.” He smiled. “What do you need from me this morning?”
An arrest warrant. “A…” I paused.
There was no point in plotting my revenge right now. “I just need a report for my insurance and a tow truck for both cars.”
“Where’s the driver of the Honda?”
“She left to seek medical attention.” I bailed her out for now. “She didn’t want to wait for an ambulance.”
“Well, the tow truck is on its way,” he said. “Do you need a lift to your firm?”
“That would be nice.”
“Give me one second.” He took pictures with his tablet, tapping the screen. “Do you have any idea what the other driver
looked like?”
Sexy as hell. “It was a woman.”
“Um, can you give me a few more details than that?” He clicked his pen. “Eye color, height, hair?”
“She’s five foot six with green eyes and dark wavy hair that falls past her shoulders.” She also has a mouth with perfect
bow-shaped lips and a body that deserves to be worshipped.
“Did she give you her name by chance?”
“Miss Lawyer.”
“Huh?”
“No,” I said. “We never got that far, but I’m not pressing charges.”
He looked over at the damage. “Are you sure?”
“Unfortunately.”
“You’re a far bigger man than me.” He printed a ticket before escorting me to his patrol car. “With that type of car, I’d be
plotting her murder.”
There are things far worse than that.
THREE TRAFFIC JAMS LATER, I strolled through the doors of Hamilton & Associates.
“Good morning, Damien.” My long-term partner and only friend, Andrew Hamilton, greeted me with two cups of coffee.
“You’re late.”
“I was in a fender bender, Captain Obvious.” I reached for one of the cups, but he didn’t give it to me.
“Which car?”
“The McLaren.”
“How bad is the damage?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I reached for a coffee again. “One of those coffees isn’t for me?”
He took a sip from each one as we walked to his office, answering that question.
“That’s why you don’t have any friends,” I said.
He laughed and set them on his desk. “I’ve split today’s interviews in half, and then I left a few for us to do together.”
“Remind me why Human Resources can’t do this?”
“Because they’re tired of us firing every person they recommend within a week,” he said. “One of these interviews should
be a breeze for you, though. You wrote him one hell of a recommendation letter.”
“Come again?”
He picked up a sheet of paper and cleared his throat. “This candidate is highly engaging with a passion for the law that is
one of a kind, with the most impressive mind I’ve ever taught at Harvard.”
“Is this an early April Fool’s joke?”
“If you don’t take a chance,” he continued reading, “it’ll be the biggest mistake you’ve ever made. Also…”
I shook my head as he continued to read, confused as ever. I’d only taught online classes at Harvard, and I’d never written
a recommendation letter, let alone been compelled to do so.
I read most of my students' essays in awe that they’d been accepted into the university, and I handed out C’s and D’s like
candy.
“You also gave this student an A.”
“Okay.” I was done with this joke. “I’ve never given anyone an A, Andrew. They probably copied and pasted my name by
mistake on a letter meant for someone else. So, he clearly didn’t do his due diligence and we can cancel his interview.”
“It’s a ‘she.’”
“It’s a fraud,” I said. “Now that I think about it, my back is starting to hurt from the fender bender. I may need to take the
day off and see a doctor.”
“I dare you.”
“What the hell is going on in here?” Jessica stepped into the room. “We’re already an hour and a half behind. Which one of
you is handling the first interview?”
“He is,” we spoke in unison.
“Seriously?” She crossed her arms. “Do you both hate interviews this much?”
Our silence was the answer.
“Fine.” She pulled out a quarter. “I’ll flip a coin.”
 CROSS-EXAMINATION (N.)
THE OPPORTUNITY FOR THE ATTORNEY (OR AN UNREPRESENTED PARTY) TO ASK QUESTIONS IN COURT OF A
WITNESS WHO HAS TESTIFIED IN A TRIAL ON BEHALF OF THE OPPOSING PARTY

ELIZABETH

y heart was stuck in my throat. I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder every few seconds—checking to see if Mr. Not
M Guilty was following this cab.
If today were any other day, I might’ve stayed at the scene and struck up a conversation. Maybe pretended like we
lived in similar worlds, and see if he were the type to ask me out on a date.
Then again, he looked like the type of man who kept a Rolodex of women at his beck and call.
“Are you running from the cops or something, Miss?” The driver’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Should I drive
faster?”
“No, I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “Just pre-interview jitters.”
“Oh, you have an interview at this firm?” he asked. “You look really young…”
“I graduated college early.”
“Impressive.” He smiled. “You must be one hell of a lawyer to get invited to apply at that place. I’ve heard it’s the best.”
“Me, too…” I didn’t try to extend our conversation; I was trying to keep all my stories straight.
I’d told him the truth; it just wasn’t mine.
“Let’s just cap this at sixty-three dollars and eighty-five cents.” He turned off the meter. “I won’t charge you for the next
block, since we’re hitting traffic.”
“Thank you very much.” I opened the door and let up my umbrella.
“Are you paying with cash or with a credit card?”
“It’ll be via cash, but…It’ll have to be sometime next week.”
“What?”
“I wrote down your cab license number, and I swear I’ll pay you back if I get this job. Wish me luck!” I jumped out of the
car before he could grab me.
Weaving through tourists, I dodged puddles and rushed down the street.
With minutes to spare, I walked up the stone steps that led into the gleaming glass building that held Hamilton &
Associates.
Pushing the doors open, I held back a gasp as I looked around the sparkling marble lobby.
“Welcome to the firm.” A brunette smiled from behind the desk. “How may I help you today?”
“I received an invitation for a nine thirty interview.”
I opened my briefcase, rummaging for the silk invitation and handed it to her.
She wrote something on a sheet and walked me to the elevator.
Hitting a button, she motioned for me to step inside, but she didn’t join me.
“Good luck, Miss Tanner.”
“Thank you.”
I stared at my reflection in the mirrored doors, smoothing my curls.
The car stopped abruptly, and the doors glided open to reveal a single sign with an arrow pointed to the left. I followed it
into a colossal meeting room with beautiful floor-length windows.
A long table stood at its center, with a chair on both ends, each set with folders and pens.
“He’ll be right in to interview you, Miss Tanner.” A pretty woman in grey pulled out a chair for me. “He’s not usually late,
but he had a bit of car trouble this morning.”
I bit my tongue before I could say, “Likewise.”
She set a coffee carafe on the far side of the table, and then she set a single mug near me.
“Wait a minute,” I said as she approached the door.
 “Yes?”
“Mr. Hamilton’s wife is Aubrey Everhart and she’s a former world class ballerina, right?”
“Um, yes…” She shot me a confused look. “Why?”
“I’ve been studying him ever since I received the invitation,” I said. “I’ve watched a few of her performances on YouTube,
and I…I just want to make sure I give a good first impression.”
She gave me a blank stare. “He’ll be with you shortly.”
I set my briefcase in my lap and nervously flicked the buckle up and down.
Stop it, Elizabeth. Focus.
You’re a lawyer. A real deal lawyer.
Moving the briefcase to the floor, I stared straight ahead and went over my small talk notes again.
The door opened moments later and I smiled, prepared to shower Mr. Hamilton with the many ways I admired his career,
but the man who walked in was taller with darker hair. There was no wedding band on his left hand, and his familiar,
unforgettable lips were the ones I’d seen less than an hour ago.
Mr. Not Guilty.
“Good morning, and welcome to—” He stopped talking when his eyes met mine. He stared at me, and a slow smirk
crossed his lips. “Hello again, Miss Lawyer.”
“Um…” I hesitated for a few seconds, debating whether I should run away now. I hadn’t prepared for a glitch in my plans.
“Good—” My breath hitched. “Good morning.”
Keeping his eyes on mine, he walked to the other side of the table and took a seat. He picked up a folder and flipped it
open.
“So, your name is Elizabeth Nicole Tanner?” he asked.
All I could do was nod.
He’d changed suits since we last met, and this one was far more lethal.
“Hmmm.” He picked up the carafe and poured a cup of coffee. Then he brought the mug to his lips.
Taking a long sip, he didn’t say a word.
He just stared at me.
“Um…” I cleared my throat. “I was expecting to meet with Mr. Andrew Hamilton.”
“Oh?” He tilted his head to the side, smiling a perfect set of pearly whites. “And why is that?”
I stared at him, unable to force a single word from my lips. This man was utter perfection at every angle.
“It’s honestly better if I do the interview,” he said. “Mr. Hamilton has a zero percent hiring rate.”
“Oh, okay.” I swallowed. “Well, what’s your hiring rate?”
“One percent.”
“So, should I just leave now?”
“Of course not, Miss Lawyer.” He sipped his coffee again. “Given the morning we’ve had together, I don’t think that’s
necessary.”
He took off his suit jacket while staring at me. Unfastening his cufflinks, he rolled up his shirt sleeves to reveal skin that
was marred with beautifully drawn tattoos.
As if he could tell I couldn’t look away, he pushed his shirt sleeves up a bit further. Then he loosened his silk grey tie.
“Do you need anything before we begin this interview?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good.” He leaned forward. “Do you know that leaving the scene of an accident is a crime?”
“Depends on what country…”
“Here, in America, Miss Tanner.”
“Yes, I’m aware it’s a crime.”
“Good, because the gentleman who pulled you from your car was quite saddened that his first accident was a hit and run.”
“I think he was more concerned with the damage to his car.”
“Hopefully you have a payment plan in mind…”
Silence stretched between us, and a palpable tension filled the room. He strummed his fingers atop the file and he looked
up at the clock, giving me a glimpse of his jawline.
“Are you nervous right now, Miss Tanner?” he asked.
“A little, yes.”
“Would you like some water?”
I nodded, and he stood from the chair. He picked up the pitcher at the center of the table and poured a glass. Then he rolled
his chair down the length of the table, closer to me.
“Here.” He handed me the water before taking a seat.
As I sipped, I couldn’t help noticing that the scent of his cologne was still as intense and intoxicating as it was before. So
much so, that I had to force myself not to lean in and inhale more of it.
“Why did you decide to become a lawyer, Miss Tanner?” He finally asked a real question.
“I’m passionate about entertaining—I mean, helping people.”
“Why not volunteer at a homeless shelter or a charity?”
“Because I would like to make a living.”
He let out a low laugh that sent every nerve in my body running wild.
“Mr. Hamilton showed me a very thorough letter of recommendation from a Professor Carter at Harvard.” He looked into
my eyes. “I had to read it three times to take it all in. This professor must’ve really liked you.”
“He did,” I said. “I received the only ever ‘A’ grade in his class.”
“How very impressive.” He smiled. “Since you’re on such good terms, can I have his email or phone number to verify
that?”
“No.” I swallowed. “I can’t give you that.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s dead now.”
“He died?”
“Yes.” I felt my cheeks burning, and I swore someone had suddenly raised the temperature in this room to one hundred
degrees. “It was very instant and tragic.”
“When was this?”
“Not too long ago.”
“So, this professor just happened to leave a recommendation letter for you in his will?”
I picked up my water and took a long sip, hoping he would move on to the next question.
“So, I guess I need to repeat the question for you.” He wasn’t dropping the subject. “Did your professor leave a
recommendation letter for you in his will?”
“No, he wrote that for me after I graduated. I just held onto it until now.”
“That’s—” He paused, looking amused. “That’s a very impressive defense strategy, Miss Tanner.”
“I believe his letter spoke volumes about your character, so I’ll just cut to the chase,” he said. “Why shouldn’t I have you
writhing under me?”
“What?”
“Why should I hire you to work under me?” He enunciated every syllable, confirming that’s far from what he’d said
before.
“I have a ten-star work ethic that can’t be matched,” I said. “I’ll always outwork everyone in the room by coming early,
leaving late, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get the job done.”
“Speaking of the word ‘ethic,’ well the plural version, do you think the law is perfect?”
“Not at all.”
“Do you think breaking the law makes someone a bad person?”
“That’s a complex question.”
“It’s a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ one.”
“No,” I said. “Breaking the law doesn’t make someone a bad person, but—”
“So, your answer is no,” he interrupted. “Good.”
He looked as if he wanted to say more, but he didn’t ask another question. He stared into my eyes, and I stared into his,
getting lost in them all over again.
He leaned forward, and I followed his lead, naturally drawn to him in a way I’d never been to a man before. His gaze
landed on my lips, and he lifted a hand, but a knock on the door sent him rolling back in his chair.
“Come in,” he said, and the brunette from earlier stepped inside.
“Sorry to interrupt, but your emergency appointment is here.”
“Tell them I’ll be there in a minute.”
“There’s also an angry cab driver cursing at the receptionist downstairs,” she said. “Something about us owing him
money.”
“I’ll handle it.” He stood up and reached for my hand.
I picked up my briefcase and shook his hand, feeling an instant jolt of electricity shooting through my veins.
He let out a low groan, confirming that he’d felt it, too.
“It was interesting to meet you, Miss Tanner,” he said, still holding my hand. “I wasn’t kidding about the payment plan. You
can mail me your ideas and a respectable timeline.”
“Likewise, Mr…I didn’t catch your name, actually.”
“You won’t need it.” He let go of my hand and opened the door. “Goodbye, Miss Tanner.”
MOTIVE (N.)
 THE PROBABLE REASON A PERSON COMMITTED A CRIME, SUCH AS JEALOUSY, GREED, REVENGE OR PART OF A
THEFT

DAMIEN

tossed Miss Tanner’s application into the trash.

I Even if she weren’t a massive fraud, I wouldn’t dare hire her to work here; I’d only managed to ask four genuine
questions during her interview because I was far too aroused and distracted by her presence.
Each time she sipped from her cup, and any time her cheeks flushed red from a lie, I’d envisioned pulling her up by her hair
and screwing her against the windows.
I’m voting hell no.
Approaching the conference room, I adjusted my tie before opening the door.
“Good morning.” I extended my hand to a woman in a cream-colored suit. “I’m Damien Carter.”
“I know who you are.” She smiled. “I’m Winter Matthews. I requested you specifically.”
“How can I help you, Miss Matthews?”
“Someone plagiarized my work and is making millions from it, so I want to sue them into oblivion.”
Intrigued, I motioned for her to take a seat.
I took a pen from my jacket.
“I’ll need some proof, but tell me a bit more about your stolen work.”
“Gladly. Do you know what it’s like to see the words you’ve poured your blood, sweat, and tears into, under someone
else’s name?” Her voice cracked. “It’s like a soul invasion.”
I handed her a Kleenex.
“While the thief is garnering attention, new followers, and awards, I’m—” She sniffled. “I’m languishing in the
background.”
“Well, we have a dedicated team that handles copyright infringement,” I said. “I’ll make sure they take your case
seriously.”
“Good, because this thieving ass bitch needs to go down.” Her eyes suddenly went wide, and her tone completely shifted.
“Here’s your proof.” She slid her phone to me. “I need to see her in an orange prison jumpsuit, and I want every dime she’s
ever received from my words.”
“Wait a second.” I glanced at her screen. “Did you tap something by accident? This looks like someone’s personal X or
Twitter account.”
“Haven’t you been listening?” She scoffed. “She stole my tweets! She copied and pasted them word for word, line for line,
emoji for emoji.”
I set down the phone.
“I tweeted ‘On my grind, walking under the clouds of focus in my mind’ on October thirteenth and I got three likes.
This imposter writes the same thing two weeks later and she got two and a half million likes.”
I blinked.
“If you scroll down to a week after that blatant act of plagiarism, I said, ‘Can’t relate to the fakeness. I’m way too real,’ and
I got twenty-eight likes and five comments. She added a heart emoji to those exact words—my exact words—and she got her
biggest tweet of all time? Of all time!”
I stood up from the table. “Make sure to stop by reception on your way out to get your parking validated.”
“I’m giving you the case of the century on a silver platter, Mr. Carter,” she said. “If people can plagiarize tweets, what’s
next? Books?”
“You honestly believe no one has ever plagiarized a book before?”
“I’m thinking of all the authors you’ll save if you take on my case.” The crazed look in her eyes was scaring the hell out of
me. “We need to sue this lady so deep into hell that people will google the word ‘the’ before using it.”
 I stepped out of the room as she continued to rage, debating whether to call my contact at the psych department.
Luckily for her, Jessica messaged me about returning to the interview room.
When I stepped inside, Andrew was staring straight ahead and looking as dejected as I felt.
“Was your first interview that bad?” I sat next to him.
“‘Bad’ would’ve been acceptable,” he said. “I believe we’re going about this process all wrong. Maybe we should fire
everyone in Human Resources and make the new team put up with this.”
“You’d have to fire Jessica to make that possible.”
He looked like he was considering the idea, but I knew that would never happen.
Batshit crazy or not, she was as much a part of this firm as we were.
Before I could tell him about my disaster of an “emergency client,” the next applicant—a grey-suited guy from Yale—
walked into the room.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hardman,” I said. “Welcome to the firm. I’m Damien Carter and this is Andrew Hamilton.”
“We’re so thrilled to meet you.” Andrew didn’t try to sound convincing. “Why should we consider you to work at our
firm?”
“Well…” He took a seat. “I personally think I could make your reputation around this town a bit more likable.”
“Likable?”
“Man to man,” he said, “I mean, man to men, every firm in this city despises you, and I think it’s because from the outside
looking in, you’re way too cocky about being number one.”
Andrew and I exchanged glances, and Mr. Hardman slid one of our business cards down the table.
“Like this thing,” he said. “The business card literally says, ‘Welcome to the firm’ and nothing else, as if you’re the only
firm in town. There’s not even a phone number on it.”
“I designed those cards,” I said. “Our clients seem to find us without any trouble.”
“Understandable, but my generation is the social media generation. We need to feel connected beyond the business. We
want to feel like you care about us long after the money is exchanged. We want you to comfort us whenever—”
“Get out,” Andrew and I spoke in unison.
“What?”
“Now,” we spoke in unison again, and he glared at us before leaving the room.
“Hmmm.” I picked up the business card and stared at it. “Do you like our cards?”
“I love our cards.”
“Should we add our contact information?”
“I told you to do that years ago.”
“Maybe that’s why I didn’t do it.”
“Thirty seconds?” Jessica barged into the room. “Did you ask Mr. Hardman any real questions, or did you bully him into
leaving after he said one thing you didn’t like?”
“He insulted Mr. Carter’s business cards.” Andrew smiled. “I was hurt on his behalf.”
“Okay, that’s it.” She grabbed a chair. “Make room. I’m sitting in on the rest of these.”

THE REMAINING candidates were a mix of dull and uninspiring, and all I did was replay my morning interview with
Elizabeth. I was tempted to schedule a second interview to steal one last glimpse of her face and confront her with her
egregious lies.
“Okay,” Andrew said after our final candidate left. “I vote for nobody today. You?”
“Same.”
“What about Miss Tanner?”
“She only showed up to thank us for the opportunity.” I refused to let him even think about it. “She received an offer she
couldn’t refuse from another firm, so she shouldn’t be considered.”
“That’s quite unfortunate.”
No, it’s quite necessary.
 GOOD FAITH (N.)
HONEST INTENT TO ACT WITHOUT TAKING AN UNFAIR ADVANTAGE OVER ANOTHER PERSON OR TO FULFILL A
PROMISE TO ACT, EVEN WHEN SOME LEGAL TECHNICALITY IS NOT FULFILLED

ELIZABETH

livia Benson! Elliot Stabler!” I called for my kittens when I made it home.
“O They didn’t come running toward me. Instead, they stared at me from the couch, unfazed about my return.
“Ugh, fine then.” I set down my umbrella. “I won’t tell you about my day.”
“I’d love to hear about your day.” Frank, my on-and-off boyfriend, stepped into the living room.
“Whoa, you scared me.” I placed a hand against my chest. “What are you doing here?”
“The police department called,” he said. “Something about a car that was registered in my name that they towed.”
“Yeah uh…” I sighed. “The registration should be switched to my name by the end of the month. Thanks for helping me
switch the state tags.”
“Were you driving back from your other boyfriend’s place?” he asked. “Why couldn’t he pay to get it towed for you?”
“For the umpteenth time, I’ve never cheated on you, Frank.” I slid out of my heels. “Can we postpone this argument until the
weekend? I’ve had a really terrible day.”
“What if I had a terrible day, too?”
“Then we can share a bucket of ice cream and watch a TV show together,” I said. “Let’s commiserate until morning.”
“Is ‘commiserate’ your way of saying I can finally get my dick wet inside you?”
“What?”
“We haven’t had sex in forever, Elizabeth,” he said. “You’ve been too busy getting screwed by someone else to notice.”
“I’ve been trying to land a job at a firm, Frank.” I tried to keep my voice even. “Whenever I’m not writing or working on a
script, I’ve been busting my ass trying to find something that’ll pay me well.”
“My father sent you an offer letter from his firm.” He stepped closer. “It’s six figures just like you asked, with every other
weekend as you need for ‘personal reasons,’ and you haven’t jumped on it. Why?”
Because you work there. “I’m waiting to get a few more offers, so I can compare.”
“You want to play hardball?”
“No, Frank,” I said. “I want to make sure I’m making the best decision.”
“The best decision you ever made,” he said, stepping forward, “was getting with me. I didn’t care that you weren’t from an
Ivy-bred family like mine, and I didn’t even care that you went to a community college before getting into law school.”
“For someone who ‘doesn’t care,’ you sure do bring those things up a lot.”
“It’s just to remind you how lucky you are.” He cupped my face in his hands. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m lucky, too.
You’ve taught me a lot about how people who aren’t wealthy live, and I’m forever grateful to you for that, but…”
I stopped listening. I’d mastered tuning out everything that came after his “but” over the years.
He was the king of making the world feel so small, reminding me that he was my first for a reason, and even though I knew
him inside and out, I’d learned never to lead him past the front door of my heart.
I didn’t allow him to roam any other rooms; I was too scared for him to use my weaknesses against me in a potential
demolition.
“You understand?” He pressed a chaste kiss against my forehead, signaling that his unhinged rant was over. “What
interview did you have today?”
“Hamilton & Associates.”
“I could’ve sworn I told you not to go to that one.” He sighed. “In the off chance that they take sympathy and hire you, you
won’t last longer than a week.”
“Just because your friend didn’t make it there, that has nothing to do with me.”
“I’m sorry I ever mentioned it then.” He didn’t look genuine at all. “Are we having sex tonight or what?”
“No, Frank.” I was utterly repulsed and wondered if our current “off” season needed to be our last one. “You’re welcome
to stay for ice cream and Law & Order, though.”
“Okay, then.” He moved past me. “Which of the cats do you want to keep?”
“What do you mean?”
“We bought Olivia and Elliot together,” he said. “It’s not fair that you keep both every time we break up, and then I’m left
waiting until you come back.”
“Frank, please stop.”
“I’ll take Elliot.” He scooped him up from the couch. “Let me know when you want to come clean about the cheating or
when you’re finally ready to act like a real girlfriend.”
“Stop!” I tried to snatch Elliot, but he turned away and sprinted out of my apartment.
I ran after him to get my cat, nearly spraining my ankle, but he was too fast.
I called him repeatedly, begging him to answer, but he hit ignore every time.
As I hit his name again, an unknown number crossed my screen.
“Hello?” I groaned.
“Is this a bad time, Miss Tanner?” Mr. Not Guilty’s deep voice caught me entirely off guard. Despite searching through the
hundreds of other lawyers on the firm’s website, I still hadn't found his name or profile.
“Oh, no.” I immediately changed my tone. “Not at all. Good evening.”
“Good evening.” He paused. “I wanted to thank you for coming in today, but unfortunately, we won’t be able to hire you.”
“Why not?”
“What?”
“I said, ‘Why not?” I repeated.
“We don’t have to discuss our hiring processes with people we don’t want.”
“Is this about the crash?” I asked. “Did I ruin my chances by leaving you on the bridge?”
“Miss Tanner, there are tons of other qualified applicants who would love to work at our firm.”
“I’m aware,” I said. “I watched everyone who went in, chatted with them when they left, and pulled up their resumes on my
way home. I was the best candidate today, by far.”
His low laughter came over the line, and butterflies took flight in my stomach.
“How humble of you,” he said. “We couldn’t verify the ‘A’ in the class you mentioned.”
“Well, I definitely didn’t make that part up.”
“Are you admitting to making up other things?”
I said nothing.
“There are plenty of other firms you can apply to in the meantime,” he said. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to have you.”
“Thank you for stating the obvious, sir.”
“Are you getting an attitude with me?”
“No, but I’m curious.” I was pissed they didn’t just send an email. “Do you normally call the people you’re not hiring at ten
o’clock at night, or are you that bored?”
He hung up.
 PROVE (V.)
V. TO PRESENT EVIDENCE AND/OR LOGIC THAT MAKES A FACT SEEM CERTAIN

DAMIEN

ubject: Your Therapist Appointment

S Mr. Carter,
As I’ve mentioned to you several times before, the more you reschedule your appointment, the more your condition
will worsen.
It’s not healthy to sleep in two and three-hour spurts for extended periods, and you will eventually suffer a mental
breakdown.
We need to work together to prevent this, and I’ve been studying several new treatments. Whenever you make the right
decision, perhaps you’ll be inspired to say more than “I don’t feel like talking.”
I’m willing to come to your office if you cannot come to me. I can also come to your condo.
Please allow me to help you.
Sincerely,
Dr. J. Mathis

I don’t feel like talking.

I SENT his email to spam like always and poured a shot of whiskey.
Tonight was a deep research night for me, and I was determined to discover that I was correct about the grade I never gave
to Miss Tanner.
Since Harvard refused to send me a copy of all my teaching records, I had to sift through every term paper I’d ever read.
So far, all I’d found were the same drab ‘C’ and ‘D’ works. This task was also a much-needed reminder of why I needed to
turn down teaching online courses for a while.
As I sifted through the assignments, I was further convinced that I would’ve remembered giving someone an ‘A.’ Hell, I
still remembered the four B grades I gave with ease.
Henry Marks. Harriet Jenkins. Nicole Manning. Bryan Lamb.
By midnight, I was down to the final set of essays and wondering if this woman had ever taken my course at all. If she were
bold enough to forge my words for a letter, another blatant lie wouldn’t be surprising.
I refreshed my screen, and an unfamiliar image appeared.

Final Essay Grade: A

Student ID: 786712

Impossible.
Confused, I sent the essay to my printer and refilled my glass.
I snatched it from the machine as soon as it finished, but it didn’t feature a final argument about a controversial Supreme
Court ruling as it should’ve.
It was a letter of some sort.

Dear Frank,
You said that you wanted me to be honest about why I’ve been ‘off ’ lately, so…I feel like we need to talk about our bedroom
life, and I feel silly writing this, but…

I paused, tempted to grab a red pen and correct her atrocious grammar for a lesser grade.
How many ellipses does this woman need?
I crossed out two more sets before continuing.

I know I was a virgin when we first met, but ever since we started having sex, I’ve never had an orgasm. I know most girls
don’t with just penetration, but I was thinking we could spice things up by watching some hardcore porn together.

And maybe, since I’m always willing to go down on you, you could go down on me for a change? (I know that’s not “your
thing,” and you don’t think it’s sanitary per se, but like…Maybe we could shower together beforehand, and you could try?)

I KNOCKED BACK my shot and smiled.

It was all coming back to me. I remembered why I gave this mistakenly turned-in masterpiece an ‘A.’

Just once, I’d like you to be super rough and whisper a bunch of dirty things in my ears while you fuck me.
Kind of like, punish me and make me say things only we’d know in the dark, but not on the S&M level (unless that turns you
on, of course), and then give me a whole night of orgasms where I scream your name at the top of my lungs and tell you that
my pussy will always be yours.
I hope you won’t judge me for writing this.
See you soon,
Elizabeth

LAUGHING, I read over it a couple more times.

I was certain she’d long dumped this guy and found someone better, someone who could give her the orgasms she deserved.
I scrolled down to her name in my phone, tempted to call and ask her about it, but I caught myself. I'd already made the
mistake of calling her once earlier when she crossed my mind.
She’s definitely the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.
Shaking away the thought of her, I headed to bed, determined to get at least three hours of sleep.
 FORESEEABLE RISK (N.)
A DANGER WHICH A REASONABLE PERSON SHOULD ANTICIPATE AS THE RESULT FROM HIS/HER ACTIONS

DAMIEN

One hour later

lease stop,” I moaned. “Please make it stop.”

“P My eyes burned as I lay paralyzed on the mattress. Ugly and unwanted memories played in my mind, holding me
hostage with every frame.
Sheets of flames covered the walls, blocking my escape. I choked on heavy black smoke as screams filled the room.
I tried to turn around, to run back and save them, but someone pushed me aside and into the freezing rain.
An explosion came next, and within seconds, every connection I’d ever had was burned to ashes.
The images suddenly faded to black, and I sat up.
No matter how many years passed, time had yet to heal any of the wounds; it’d only left them prone to worse infections.
Getting out of bed, I strolled into my kitchen and buried myself in this week’s case files. When I finished, I sent notes to my
research team and drove to the firm.
When I reached my floor, Andrew was holding up two bottles of pink nail polish.
What in the…
“Which of these is closer to ballerina pink?” he asked. “The one on the right or the left?”
I gave him a blank stare.
“My number one client is demanding that I have this ready at our morning meeting, so your response is greatly
appreciated.”
“You mean, your daughter?” I shook my head. “The one on the right.”
“I thought so, too. Are you here early to greet our newest team member?”
“I’m here because I have work to do.”
“Well, whenever you take a break—” He tossed me a folder. “Here’s a template and a few ideas about how your first few
weeks together should go. I think this will help lighten your caseload, too.”
“I work better alone, Andrew.”
“You used to,” he said. “But I’ve noticed a recent and depressing change in you.”
“Thank you, Father. I’m fine, though. Trust me.”
“Okay,” he said. “When’s the last time you slept for more than two hours at a time?”
“Last night.”
“Are you going to therapy?”
“Every week.”
“Why are you lying to my face?”
“Yeah, I…I don’t know.”
“I do.” He shook his head. “You need someone to help you, even if it’s temporary.”
“I tend to handle things differently from everyone else here. Maybe the newest associate should learn from someone a bit
more—”
“Straight-laced, by the book, and righteous?”
“All of the above.”
“I could do that, or I could do what’s best for the firm.”
Silence.
Only one string of words could make me drop any argument.
Our firm had to live well beyond us, and we needed above-the-board lawyers like him, and not-afraid-to-get-dirty lawyers
like me.
So far, the latter category only hosted a party of one.
“Glad we’re on the same page.” He smiled. “I sent Miss Tanner an offer letter last night.”
“You did what?” My eyes widened. “I thought we agreed she wasn’t a good fit.”
“No, that was just you.” He shrugged. “Why would I ever turn away someone who you personally recommended?”
“Because she turned in a fraudulent letter that I never wrote.”
“She’d have to be certifiably insane to do something like that.”
“I agree, and that’s why she doesn’t need to be here,” I said. “Rescind the offer now.”
“Give me a reason.”
I just fucking did.
“I’m waiting, Damien.”
“It’s her eyes,” I said. “There’s something in them.”
“I believe those are called pupils.”
“No. This is something else.”
“Irises?”
“No, it’s—” I stopped. The moment I saw her on that bridge, I practically saw a bright white “caution” sign flashing in her
eyes. It flashed again during her interviews, and I knew from the way she looked at me that she was as lonely and lost as I was.
“How about I give you a better reason?” I said, changing the subject. “You’ll refrain from hiring her because I have as
much of a say in what happens in this firm as you do.”
“Once you agree to put your name on the website and on the door, so everyone knows that you’re a partner, you can.” He
crossed his arms. “Is this your way of finally accepting that?”
“No, but if I say that I’m considering it, that should count.”
“It doesn’t.” He moved from behind the desk and placed a hand on my shoulder. “It’s all or nothing, and don’t take this the
wrong way, but I really do care about you, and…you complete me.”
“I’ll be sure to tell your wife.”
He laughed. “Please let Miss Tanner work with you for a little while.”
“Fine. I’ll give her a short test run.”
“Be sure to teach her everything you know.” He held up the nail polish again. “On a scale of one to ten, how sure are you
about the pink?”
 PROBABLE CAUSE (N.)
SUFFICIENT REASON BASED UPON KNOWN FACTS TO BELIEVE A CRIME HAS BEEN COMMITTED OR THAT CERTAIN
PROPERTY IS CONNECTED WITH A CRIME

ELIZABETH

aybe Mr. Carter’s rejection call was just a test, Olivia,” I petted her fur as I stared at the firm's offer letter.
“M I had to sign a series of non-disclosure forms, read a lengthy “The Firm Comes First” manifesto, and read a one-
hundred-page document detailing “our history” within five days.
At the very bottom of the message was a number that made me disregard every word before it.

Starting Base Salary

First-Year Associate:
$479,000.00

Five days later

MY PHONE WASN’T CHARGING on my nightstand like it should’ve been, and my alarm was oddly silent.
Confused, I slipped out of bed, wondering if I’d somehow sleepwalked into the kitchen last night and left it.
It wasn’t there either.
The clock read five in the morning, meaning I’d woken up two hours before I needed to start getting ready for my first day.
At least I’m early.
I searched for my laptop, but it was nowhere to be found.
Blaming it on my nerves, I stepped into the shower and shut my eyes.
“Breathe, Elizabeth. Breathe.”
As the streams fell over me, I envisioned Mr. Carter staring at me while I was naked. If the way he’d eye-fucked me during
the interview would be similar.
When my skin was wrinkled enough, I turned off the water and reached for the suit I’d laid out the night before; it seemed to
have disappeared, along with my phone and laptop.
What the hell is going on?
I entered the living room and saw a yellow Post-it with all the answers.

This is how it feels when someone leaves you hanging for months and won't give you what you need.
I'll return your things when it's convenient for me.
—Frank
P.S. I also set your clocks back by two hours.
You’re welcome.
 FAILURE OF CONSIDERATION (N.)
NOT DELIVERING GOODS OR SERVICES WHEN PROMISED IN A CONTRACT

DAMIEN

pulled my brand-new Bugatti in front of the firm at six-thirty in the morning.

I From what I’d gleaned from the other lawyers, whenever they were partnered with a new associate, they arrived early
with a gift and treated them to a welcome breakfast and a tour. Of course, my associate currently owed me money, so I had
to adjust that plan.
Still, I was willing to play nice with Miss Tanner.
For now.
Walking inside, I stepped onto the elevator.
Before the doors closed, a short brunette stepped inside with me.
“Are you Damien Carter?” she asked.
“Depends on why you need to know.”
“My name is Natalie Russo, and I need your help on the case of a century.”
“I’m not him then,” I said. “Try searching tomorrow.”
“Please. It’s life or death.”
“Does your case have anything to do with social media?”
“No.”
“Does it have anything to do with the book publishing industry?”
She shook her head. “Not at all.”
“For the record, I don’t defend murderers, child abusers, or drug dealers, so if you’re one of those, I’m not your guy.”
“What about rapists?”
I gave her a blank stare. “They’re the same as murderers in my book. Try Hannigan and Flynn on Fifth Avenue, if that’s
what you need.”
“I was just asking. My issue is corporate fraud.”
“I’m listening.”
“Wait.” She handed me a hundred-dollar bill. “Me giving you this money means I officially have attorney-client privilege,
right?”
“It means you have my attention for less than sixty seconds. I charge two thousand dollars an hour.”
“I heard it was five thousand for the off-the-record stuff.”
I smiled. “Now, I’m really listening.”
“I may or may not have sold some valuable information about my company to a competitor in exchange for millions.
“How many millions?”
“Less than thirty, more than ten.”
“Say less.” The doors opened on my floor. “Let’s talk in my office.”

Three Hours Later

“MR. CARTER, YOUR FIRST APPOINTMENT HERE,” Jessica called via intercom as I finished with Miss Russo.
 “Thank you for chatting with me on such short notice.” Miss Russo shook my hand. “When can I expect to hear from you
again?”
“Soon,” I said. “Within the next five days.”
I waited until she left before pinging Jessica. “I don’t have a ten o’clock on my books for today.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Thompson want to discuss their will again.”
“What’s wrong with it this time?”
“They want to leave one of their vacation homes to their dogs.”
“Okay. Next time they come in here, tell them I drowned.”
“Will do.”
“Thanks.” I leaned back in my chair. “Can you send Miss Tanner into my office before them, please?”
“Miss Tanner isn’t here yet.”
What? “What did you just say?”
“That Miss Tanner isn’t here yet.”
I looked at my watch. She’s two hours late on her first day?
“Can you call and ask her why?”
“Sure. Give me a few seconds.”
I stared at my phone until she came back.
“Her phone keeps going to voicemail,” she said. “Want me to try her email?”
“Sure.” I stood to my feet. “Do me another favor while you’re at it. Call the police department and ask if there have been
any morning accidents with a busted ass Honda.”
“Right away.”
 ESCAPE CLAUSE (N.)
A PROVISION IN A CONTRACT WHICH ALLOWS ONE OF THE PARTIES TO BE RELIEVED FROM (GET OUT OF) ANY
OBLIGATION IF A CERTAIN EVENT OCCURS

ELIZABETH

’m dressed like a stripper.

I The only decent thing in my closet that I could find worth wearing was a knee-length red dress with a low V-cut and
platform beige heels. Thankfully, my black blazer made it look somewhat respectable.
Then again, the two men across from me on this subway were throwing long, thirsty stares in my direction, so maybe I
should’ve opted for jeans and a T-shirt.
“Excuse me.” I smiled at a woman wearing a Hudson University hoodie.
She raised her eyebrow, but she didn’t take out her earbuds.
“Can I please use your phone for a second?” I asked. “I need to make a quick phone call to my new job and—”
“Help!” She shouted! “Helpppp! She’s trying to steal my phone!”
“What? I literally just asked you if I could use it.”
“This lady is trying to steal my phone!” She yelled louder, and I moved back, pushing my way through to another subway
car.
I grabbed onto a handrail, trying my best to keep it together.
“Come on, come on, come onnn…” I muttered as the train rattled through the tunnel.
As pissed as I was at Frank, I refused to let a single tear fall from my eyes.
We were one hundred percent done after this, and no apology would ever be enough for me to consider being with him
again.
I moved toward the doors when the train neared the Parker International Hotel stop. I rushed up from the platform and
walked into the hotel’s glittering lobby.
“Good morning, Miss.” The front desk agent smiled at me. “How may I help you today?”
“I uh—” I remembered the crazy shouting lady. “I lost my phone before checking out from my suite earlier. Can I use your
business center to reprint my boarding pass?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “It’s down the hall near the elevators.”
I rushed in that direction and immediately checked my email, ready to apologize and beg for mercy for being late, but only
one subject line was waiting for me.
Subject: Your First Day of Work…
“Damien Carter” was the sender.
I stared at it for several moments, wondering if this was the firm’s Human Resources manager who was firing me before I
could even start.
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to open it.

SUBJECT: Your First Day of Work…

Dear Miss Tanner,
It's currently nine o'clock in the morning, which means you're already two & a half hours late for your first day of work at
Hamilton & Associates.
During your interview, you waxed poetic about your obsession with "being on time" and promised to be "one hundred
percent accountable," but clearly, that's a goddamn lie.
Then again, to be fair, I lied to you during your interview as well. I told you that it was nice to "meet" you, but I guess now
is the time to admit that we've met before.
You took my online class at Harvard, and you never turned in your final paper. Instead, you sent me a dirty list that was
meant for your boyfriend: Things I Want You to Do to Me in The Bedroom.
I gave you an 'A' for amusement, but for the record, if you have to beg a man to "go down on [you]," or "give you a night of
orgasms while whispering filthy things into your ears," you're probably fucking the wrong guy.
Nonetheless, when you finally do decide to show up to work, I expect you to stick to discussions about the law, not
anything personal. I don't want you to ever take my rare moments of kindness for weakness. (I don't have any.) In fact, this
email is probably the longest stretch of words I'll ever say to you.
Stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours.
Now that our formal introduction is out of the way, I'll assume that you're currently on your way into my office.
Welcome to the firm,
Damien Carter

OH MY FUCKING GOD…
 DISORDERLY CONDUCT (N.)
1) ACTIONS THAT DISTURB OTHERS. 2) MINOR CRIMINAL OFFENSES, SUCH AS PUBLIC DRUNKENNESS, LOITERING,
DISTURBING THE PEACE, AND LOUD THREATS OR PARTIES

DAMIEN

lizabeth walked into the firm at five minutes past noon, slightly wobbling in towering stilettos and holding her black
E blazer shut.
Maybe she’s having good sex now after all.
Her eyes met mine as she moved through the lobby, and I motioned for her to meet me at the elevator.
“Good morning, Mr. Carter,” she said.
“You mean, afternoon?”
“Yes, afternoon.” She blushed. “I really apologize for this, and I hope you won’t hold it against me.”
“Did you get my email?”
She blushed again. “Yes.”
“Good.” I sipped my coffee. “Want to give me a plausible reason why someone would risk being late for their first day of
work?”
Her lips parted into a perfect “O,” and I envisioned how they would feel wrapped around my cock.
Okay, you have to go, Miss Tanner.
I was determined to fire her at the end of this month, no matter what Andrew said.
Several seconds passed, and not a single word slipped from her lips.
“Let me guess,” I said as we entered the car. “Your car finally gave out and you had to push it here?”
“No, it’s—” She shook her head. “It’s completely inexcusable and it’ll never happen again.”
“It better not.” I tried not to stare at her as we rode to the fifteenth floor. “You’ll get an official tour later, since we’re
behind on the day. Take out your phone and record these notes, because I don’t like repeating myself.”
I waited for her to do so, but she pulled a pen and paper out of her purse.
“Miss Tanner,” I said, “you need to use your phone.”
“I don’t have my phone today. Someone stole it.” She paused. “They stole my car, too.”
“They might’ve done you a favor by doing the latter,” I said. “Pen and paper it is, then.”
She looked at me expectantly, her stunning eyes flashing that “caution” sign again, and I lost my train of thought.
Okay. I need to find a way to fire you at the end of this week.
 DISCOVERY (N.)
THE ENTIRE EFFORTS OF A PARTY TO A LAWSUIT AND HIS/HER/ITS ATTORNEYS TO OBTAIN INFORMATION BEFORE
TRIAL THROUGH DEMANDS FOR PRODUCTION OF DOCUMENTS

ELIZABETH

y heels clacked against the firm’s marble floors as I followed Mr. Carter from office to office. I wasn’t sure if the
M strange looks we were getting from the other associates were for him or me, but I had a feeling there wouldn’t be a
welcoming committee today.
“You’re the only first-year associate we’re hiring this season, and you’re the youngest person on our staff,” Mr. Carter said,
leading me down a hallway. “But that doesn’t mean that we’ll go easy on you, clear?”
“Clear.”
“I work a minimum of eighty hours a week, and since we’ve been paired together, that means you’re required to do the
same.”
“My offer letter said that I would only be required to work sixty hours a week.”
“Some of my clients may call for emergency assistance during odd times.” He continued talking, ignoring my comment.
“You’ll travel with me whenever that happens. Do you have any questions?”
“Yeah.” I looked at my notepad. “I have quite a few.”
“That’s unfortunate.” He didn’t give me a chance to ask them. “On any given week, I may have several court sessions, a
series of depositions, research, and meetings, and no two weeks are ever the same.”
I stopped writing.
I’d experienced this brand of assholery before. This man wasn’t telling me any of this to inform me; he wanted
to overwhelm me.
Opening the door to a massive conference room, he ushered me inside.
Boxes of files were stacked high against the wall, and folders cluttered the oval table near the window.
“This is your very first assignment, Miss Tanner.” He tapped the top of the stack. “I need these summarized as soon as
possible.”
“All of these?”
“Of course not.” He opened a closet, revealing even more stacks. “I need these done, too.”
He picked up a small remote and hit a button, forcing the double doors on the other side of the room to come into view.
“You need to handle the boxes in there as well,” he said.
“Okay, wait,” I said. “Are you going to tell me how you like your summaries done? And when exactly is all this due?”
“I’ll let you know when I’m open for questions. Spoiler alert: It’s not today.” He left the room, slamming the door shut
behind him.

Later that night

MY BACK ACHED as I opened another box. I’d barely made a dent in my work, and even if I worked for the next fifty days
straight, there was no way I could finish these anytime soon.
Hell, this year would be pushing it.
“Are you finished with the Robyn files, Miss Tanner?” Mr. Hamilton stepped into the room. “I need those, if so.”
I don’t even know what you’re talking about.
 “I haven’t started on them yet.”
“Excuse me?”
“I haven’t started on them.”
“I heard you the first time,” he said. “I was just hoping you’d say something less ridiculous the second time around.”
I sighed. “Mr. Carter isn’t helping me with anything.”
“You need his help to read?”
“To make sure I’m doing things the right way,” I said. “It’s literally my first day.”
I waited for him to say something sympathetic, but he pulled out his cell phone, tapped the screen, and held it up to his ear.
“I thought you said Miss Tanner graduated from Harvard,” he said. “Is there a non-Ivy league one I’m unaware of?”
I crossed my arms.
“She said you haven’t helped her with anything.” He paused. “Hmmm. I see. Okay, that makes perfect sense.”
Ending the call, he looked at me.
“He says that he gave you detailed instructions and encouraged you to record notes on your phone. He also said he
specifically mentioned the Robyn files to you and wanted to give you an entire week to work alone to see how much you get
done.”
Oh my god, he’s lying. I bit my tongue.
“Mr. Hamilton, I think that Mr. Carter is…” I didn’t have any proof he was trying to sabotage me, but I felt it. “I promise
you that Mr. Carter did not mention anything about any Robyn files. I wrote down everything he told me, and that’s not there.”
“So, you expect me to take your word over the man I’ve been working with for years? Are you calling him a liar?”
“No, I’m just saying that—”
“That was a rhetorical question,” he interrupted. “You have an hour to show me something, and you should be thanking Mr.
Carter for giving you time to adjust to things here. Get busy, Miss Tanner.”
 FALSE IMPRISONMENT (N.)
DEPRIVING SOMEONE OF FREEDOM OF MOVEMENT BY HOLDING A PERSON IN A CONFINED SPACE OR BY PHYSICAL
RESTRAINT

DAMIEN

One week later

essica?” I called her line over lunch.

“J “Yes?”
“Why is there a goddamn kitten walking around my office?”
“Huh?”
“There’s a grey and white cat looking at me like I’m in the wrong place.”
“Be there in two seconds.” She hung up.
The cat jumped onto my desk and hissed. The lavender collar around his neck read, “Elliot Stabler.”
“Oh, that cat.” Jessica stepped inside and scooped him into her arms. “Some guy dropped that off for Miss Tanner this
morning. I think he was her boyfriend.”
“So, she does have a boyfriend?”
“Actually, I think he’s her ex.” She lowered her voice. “He dropped off a box of other stuff and called her an ‘ungrateful
cunt’ on his way out. I’ll have to get all the tea on that later.”
“She hasn’t quit yet?”
“Shockingly, no.” She petted the kitten. “I’ve made the interns add new files to her table every hour like you asked, though.
Want me to stop?”
“No. Double it.”
“You have cases and clients to meet outside the office soon,” she said. “You can’t keep Miss Tanner in the file tomb
forever.
“Let’s give it one more week and see.”
 INCOMPATIBLE (ADJ.)
1) INCONSISTENT. 2) UNMATCHING. 3) UNABLE TO LIVE TOGETHER AS HUSBAND AND WIFE DUE TO
IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES

ELIZABETH

“F ake No
it til you make it. Play the part until the curtains close.”
matter how often I repeated that advice to myself, I knew I was in over my head.
I could feel it with every second that ticked by, every file that magically found its way atop my desk.
I’d organized all of Mr. Carter’s case files by type. Then, by court date, in alphabetical order,
I only left the firm to go home and take a shower, and still, even though it was clear that Mr. Carter’s game was impossible
to win, I was determined to play until the buzzer.
Over the past week and a half, I’d noticed that he was an enigma, slipping in and out of the firm without saying a word,
only speaking when an email wouldn’t do. And yet, I seemed to be the only one who found this disrespectful and unfair.
None of the other senior lawyers kept their doors shut for most of the day, and all were willing to stop and answer
questions.
Exhausted, I stood up and decided to take a tour.
Most of the offices were long abandoned, and only a few interns were typing away at their cubicles. Every floor had a
different layout and elegant color scheme, and the mock courtroom on the fifteenth floor was fitted with so much custom
woodwork that it took my breath away.
On the twentieth floor, the words “Damien Carter” were engraved in gold on the welcome wall. Stepping off, I wandered
past the receptionist's desk in awe.
Mr. Carter was standing near the windows, sipping coffee and looking at the streets below.
“May I help you with something, Miss Tanner?” he asked without turning around.
“No, I’m just taking a little tour since the office is quiet.”
“Is your work finished?” He faced me.
“Not yet.”
“Well, go finish that first.”
“I’ll get back to it after my break.” I walked away and strolled through the case library.
I took my time admiring a smaller mock courtroom, and when I returned, Mr. Carter was standing near the elevators.
Ignoring him, I stepped inside and he followed.
“The file tombs are on level five,” he said as I hit the button for the top floor. “Do you need help finding your way back?”
“I literally just told you I’m taking a break.”
“You haven’t done enough work to earn a break.”
“Earn?” I crossed my arms. “Did you hire me to be a lawyer or an intern?”
“If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have hired you at all.” He hit the emergency stop button. “I have clients that will be here
Monday, and the files in that room are very important to me.”
“They can’t be.” I glared at him. “You’d be reading some of them in your office instead of sipping coffee and harassing
me.”
“Miss Tanner, I’m a partner at this firm.”
“I don’t see your name on any of the doors.” I countered. “It’s not even printed on the cheap business cards.”
“Those cards are not cheap.”
“Regardless—” I reached behind him and hit the button. “I’m sure you have some more coffee sipping to do. Or hell,
maybe you have some more guilty clients to collect.”
“What did you just say?”
“I didn’t stutter,” I said. “From what I’ve seen, most of the people you’re representing are literally guilty. They just don’t
want to go to prison.”
 “I told you to summarize my files, not analyze them.”
“If you’d actually given me some directions, maybe I’d know that.”
We glared at each other as the car moved up.
The moment the doors opened, I stepped onto the landing and headed down the hall.
Seconds later, heavy footsteps sounded from behind, and then I felt sturdy hands gripping my waist and spinning me
around.
“I wasn’t done with our conversation, Miss Tanner,” Mr. Carter said.
“I was.”
“Anyway, like I was saying—” He gripped my hips a bit tighter. “I’m a partner here.”
“And I’m a lawyer here.” I looked into his eyes. “Not an intern, not a paralegal, not some starstruck college bimbo who is
in awe of your presence.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“So, I suggest you start treating me like one, or we’re going to have a problem.”
“I’m supposed to teach you everything I know.”
“Then I’m sure the lesson won’t take that long.”
“Okay, Miss Tanner.” He looked amused and livid at the same time. “I’m going to allow your sarcasm to slide for one last
time today.”
“Don’t, I mean every single word of it.” I held my ground. “As a matter of fact—”
He stamped his mouth over mine mid-sentence, kissing away the rest of my words.
I moaned as he pushed me against the wall with his hips, and I couldn’t help wrapping my arms around his neck.
Sliding his tongue against mine, he silently demanding that I let him in further, and I instantly obliged.
As his mouth controlled mine, his cock hardened against my stomach. My nipples hardened under my blouse.
I dropped a hand from his neck and reached down to touch it, and he responded by biting down hard on my bottom lip.
“Don’t tempt me,” he warned, pushing up against me more, giving me an even better feel of him.
I’d never been kissed like this, never been possessed like this, and I was seconds away from begging him for more.
“Please…” I moaned.
“Please what, Miss Tanner?”
I didn’t get a chance to answer.
He pulled away from me instead, leaving me breathless with soaking wet panties.
“Damnit…” He muttered, stepping back. “My clients will be here Monday at eight o’clock. I suggest you finish those files.”
“I’d need an entire year.”
“You have a weekend.” He left me standing alone in the hallway.

AT FOUR IN THE MORNING, I put my head down on the table and surrendered. My task was impossible, and my brain
wasn’t focused on anything but Mr. Carter’s lips.
“Miss Tanner?” a soft voice said moments later. “Miss Tanner?”
“Huh? What?” I looked up and saw an intern setting a fruit plate in front of me.
“I’ve prepared a private suite for you upstairs,” she said. “I wasn’t sure what type of body wash you liked, so I bought four
different types.”
“Suite?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “There’s a whole floor of those whenever you have to pull an all-nighter.”
Mr. Carter didn’t tell me that.
As if she could read my mind, she picked up my plate and motioned for me to follow her.
We rode to the top floor, and I bit my lip to prevent my jaw from dropping. This was practically a hotel with the best views
of Manhattan.
“Okay, look.” She ushered me inside a room with a king-sized bed. “You have to take care of yourself if you want to
survive here. Otherwise, everyone will eat you alive.”
“It’s my second week and I already want to die.”
“If it makes you feel any better, most first-year lawyers don’t make it past the interview process.”
I was far too exhausted to smile about that minor accomplishment.
“Don’t get straight to work after entering the firm,” she said. “Go to the research library and use the time to make it seem
like you’re reading, but take a twenty-minute power nap. Oh, and don’t waste time running back and forth to the coffee makers.
There are tons of interns here like me who can make sure you always have some in hand.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Why are you helping me?”
She pointed to the pink “Theater is My Life” and “Acting is my Lifeline” pins on my coat.
“I was a theater geek, too,” she said. “I know what it’s like to be underrated and overwhelmed.”
“Good to know.”
After she handed over the suite key, I undressed and stepped into the shower.
Letting a replay of Damien’s lips dominate my thoughts, I stood under the streams until I couldn’t take anymore.
DAMIEN CARTER
I came to the tombs to get a file and didn’t see you working.
Did you get lost again, or did you go home?
I need an answer, Miss Tanner. Now.
 IRRELEVANT (ADJ.)
NOT IMPORTANT, PERTINENT, OR GERMANE TO THE MATTER AT HAND OR TO ANY ISSUE BEFORE THE COURT

ELIZABETH

The Innocence Project.

‘Caring is Sharing’ Nonprofit
The Association of Justice for All

completed another job application in the morning and hoped to get a speedy response. Despite the exceptional salary, I
I couldn’t deal with another week in file box prison.
Frank may have had a point after all.
“Miss Tanner, I have a new assignment for you,” Mr. Carter said, suddenly stepping into the room. “Something that needs to
be handled as soon as possible.”
“Is it a court case?”
“Of course not.” He scoffed, tossing a menu for Whimstery Cafe in front of me. “I need you to go to this place and watch
the Sonny Caps Condo building that’s right across the street. Take pictures of everyone who enters and leaves, and take notes
on every delivery van you see.”
“So, you want me to do a stakeout?”
“Sure,” he said. “That’s a great way to put it.”
“I have a law degree, Mr. Carter.”
“I know.I’m shocked.”
“Funny,” I said. “This stakeout thing is a joke, right?”
“I’ve never been much of a comedian, Miss Tanner,” he said, heading to the door, “And again, I’ll let you know when I’m
open to questions.”
He walked away without giving me anything again.
 CRIME OF PASSION (N.)
A DEFENDANT'S EXCUSE FOR COMMITTING A CRIME DUE TO SUDDEN ANGER OR HEARTBREAK, IN ORDER TO
ELIMINATE THE ELEMENT OF "PREMEDITATION"

DAMIEN

pulled out the blueprints for Sonny Caps Condos like I’d done hundreds of times before. Even though I knew the building
I like the back of my hand and could probably go head to head with an engineer about everything inside it, I was a stickler for
double-checking everything.
As I was comparing the eighties version of the building to the one in the nineties, the sound of heels clacking against my
floor made me look up.
Miss Tanner placed a to-go cup on my desk.
“What are you doing here?” I said. “I gave you an assignment.”
“I did that already.”
“Impossible. I told you to sit there and take notes.”
“I did.” She crossed her arms. “How long did you expect me to sit out there and watch the building?”
“At least twenty four hours.”
“I’ll pass.” She hissed. “I would like a real assignment, Mr. Carter, and I would like it now.”
“I gave you one,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her. “Get back to that cafe and watch the condo across the street.”
“Give me a real assignment.” She stepped closer. “Or else.”
I didn’t bother asking, “Or what?”
She had no leverage in this situation.
“I’m going to give you five seconds, Miss Tanner,” I said. “By the time I’m done counting down, you will have left my
office and saved yourself from making a huge mistake early in your career.”
“My late grandfather was a judge,” she said. “He’d be appalled to know that I’m working with a lawyer like you.”
“Well, do the honorable thing and quit.”
“Do you want to know what happened to him?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
“He sentenced a criminal to a rightfully deserved twenty years in federal prison for stealing millions of dollars from the
government,” she said. “The criminal decided that he didn't appreciate his sentence, so he assaulted him in open court.”
I crossed my arms, unsure of where she was going with this.
“His lawyer in the assault case, a dirty one just like you, used the insanity defense and managed to get him off for that.”
“First of all, there's no man on this planet like me,” I said. “Second of all, someone does have to be insane to assault a
goddamn judge, so I’m not surprised he got off. Third, in your essay application, you mentioned that you didn’t have anyone in
the legal profession in your family and that your grandfather—your “favorite family member—is alive and running a farm in
Pennsylvania. Is this ‘honorable judge’ story true, or are you forging this like your recommendation letter?”
“It’s a real story.”
“But it’s not your story, is it?”
Her flushed cheeks answered that question.
“Okay, I thought so.” I looked at my watch. “Thank you for that lovely story time, Miss Tanner. Now, get back to that damn
cafe. Time is ticking.”
 PUNITIVE DAMAGES (N.)
DAMAGES AWARDED IN A LAWSUIT AS A PUNISHMENT AND EXAMPLE TO OTHERS FOR MALICIOUS, EVIL OR
PARTICULARLY FRAUDULENT ACTS

DAMIEN

hen I walked into my office on Thursday morning, Andrew was sitting in my custom red chair, writing on a notepad.
W “What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m writing you up, Mr. Carter,” he said. “I’ve let your toxic behavior slide at our firm long enough.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Human Resources received an urgent and formal complaint about you.”
“From who?”
“An anonymous employee named Elizabeth Tanner.”
“You need to look up the definition of ‘anonymous.’” I paused. “She snitched on me?”
“She feels as if her partner isn’t being respectful of her time and talent.” He looked up at me with a straight face. “So, as
someone who cares deeply about everyone’s emotions and feelings in this building, I’m afraid that I have to punish you.”
“Okay.” I crossed my arms. “Let me know when you’re done playing games.”
“One second. I need to deliver a few more stern lines and threaten to take away something financial from you.”
“Andrew…”
“I’m done.” He smiled and stood to his feet. “Can you please get her an actual office on this floor and fix whatever the hell
is wrong, please?”
“You can handle the latter thing by pairing me with someone else.”
“If she wasn’t the best first-year we’ve ever hired, I would,” he said. “If you want, I can always pair you with Rhonda or
Charles since they’re third-years with far more experience.”
“Do they still find a way to bring up that naked clogging group they want to join in every conversation?”
“They invited me to their first concert five minutes ago.”
“I’ll fix things with Miss Tanner.”
“I thought so.”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of John G.
Paton, missionary to the New Hebrides
 This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the
laws of the country where you are located before using this
eBook.

Title: John G. Paton, missionary to the New Hebrides

An autobiography; first part

Author: John Gibson Paton

Editor: James Paton

Release date: September 2, 2023 [eBook #71542]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: Flemming H. Revell Company,

1889

Credits: Richard Tonsing, Brian Wilson, and the Online

Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOHN G.

PATON, MISSIONARY TO THE NEW HEBRIDES ***
Transcriber’s Note:
New original cover art included with this eBook is
granted to the public domain.
 JOHN G. PATON.

An Autobiography.

FIRST PART.

NEW AND CHEAPER EDITION ILLUSTRATED.

JOHN G. PATON,
MISSIONARY TO THE NEW HEBRIDES.

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
EDITED BY HIS BROTHER.

With an Introduction by ARTHUR T. PIERSON, D.D.

Two vols. in box, 12mo, cloth, gilt top net $2.00.

Ministerial Commendation.
“I have just laid down the most robust and the most
fascinating piece of autobiography that I have met with in many
a day.... John G. Paton was made of the same stuff with
Livingstone.”—Theodore L. Cuyler, D.D.
“I consider it unsurpassed in missionary biography. In the
whole course of my extensive reading on these topics, a more
stimulating, inspiring, and every way first-class book has not
fallen into my hands. Everybody ought to read it.”—Arthur T.
Pierson, D.D.
Missionary Praise.
“I have never read a romance that was half so thrilling.”—
Lucius C. Smith, Guanajuato, Mexico.
“I have never read a more inspiring biography.”—Thomas C.
Winn, Yokohama, Japan.
“The Lord’s work will not go back while there are such men as
he in the church.”—James A. Heal, Sing Kong, Cheh Kiang,
China.
“I think I have never had greater pleasure in reading any
book.”—R. Thacksweil, Dehra, North India.
Press Notices.
“Perhaps the most important addition for many years to the
library of missionary literature is the autobiography of John G.
Paton.”—The Christian Advocate.
“We commend to all who would advance the cause of Foreign
Missions this remarkable autobiography. It stands with such
books as those Dr. Livingstone gave the world, and shows to
men that the heroes of the cross are not merely to be sought in
past ages.”—The Christian Intelligencer.
Fleming H. Revell Company,
{ New York, 30 Union Square, E.
{ Chicago, 148 & 150 Madison Street.
 JOHN G. PATON,
MISSIONARY TO THE

NEW HEBRIDES.

An Autobiography.

EDITED BY HIS BROTHER.

FIRST PART.

New Illustrated Edition.

Fleming H. Revell Company

PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK CHICAGO
30 Union Square, East. 148–150 Madison Street.
 INTRODUCTORY NOTE.

BY ARTHUR T. PIERSON, D.D.

Love is omnipotent. Wherever true passion for souls burns, there we

may find a new Mount of Transfiguration where the earthly takes on
the complexion of the heavenly.
This book presents an example of the power of such love and holy
enthusiasm, alike in one of the great cities of Scotland and in the
isles of the sea.
Even among the riches of missionary biography few such volumes
as this are to be found, and the most apathetic reader will find
himself fascinated by this charming romance of real life. It has been
well said that he who is not ready to preach the gospel everywhere
and anywhere is fit to preach it nowhere. Should every candidate for
the office of the ministry be first tried in some such field as the
wynds of Glasgow, it would prove a training in its way more
profitable than any discipline in the class-room; and it might so
shake the “napkin” at the four corners as to disclose whether or not
there were in it even one “talent” for winning souls.
We calmly affirm, after careful perusal, that this biography is not
surpassed, for stimulating, inspiring, and helpful narrative, by any
existing story of missionary heroism. Its peculiar value is twofold: it
shows how the most neglected and degraded masses of our cities
may be reached by Christian effort, and it illustrates the spirit of
missions on the wider field of south sea cannibalism. Our only regret
is that this story of missionary labor is not carried on to its successful
issue. This volume leaves us eagerly expectant of what is promised as
the sequel.
 He who doubts whether there is a supernatural factor in missions,
should carefully read this narrative. What but the power of God
could turn the demon of drink into a ministering angel, or the
blasphemer into a praying saint, or out of the mouth of hell withdraw
the half-devoured wretch who was desperately bent on suicide?
Let those who sit quietly at home in their easy-chairs, or who make
rousing addresses or write stirring articles on city evangelization and
the estrangement of the masses from the church, follow this heroic
city missionary as he dives into the depths of all this depravity and
degradation, and demonstrates what the love of souls and the gospel
of life can do to rescue those who are drowning in the abyss of
perdition.
 PREFACE.

The Manuscript of this Volume, put together in a rough draft amid

ceaseless and exacting toils, was placed in my hands and left
absolutely to my disposal by my beloved brother, the Missionary.
It has been to me a labour of perfect love to re-write and revise the
same, pruning here and expanding there, and preparing the whole
for the press. In the incidents of personal experience, constituting
the larger part of the book, the reader peruses in an almost unaltered
form the graphic and simple narrative as it came from my brother’s
pen. But, as many sections have been re-cast and largely modified,
especially in those Chapters of whose events I was myself an eye-
witness, or regarding which I had information at first hand from the
parties concerned therein,—and as circumstances make it impossible
to submit these in their present shape to my brother before
publication,—I must request the Public to lay upon me, and not on
him, all responsibility for the final shape in which the Autobiography
appears.
I publish it, because Something tells me there is a blessing in it.
January, 1889. James Paton.
 NOTE TO SECOND EDITION.
The Editor desires very gratefully to acknowledge his joy in
receiving, not only through Press Notices, but from Correspondents
in every rank, most ample confirmation of the assurance expressed
by him in the last sentence of the Original Preface—“There is a
blessing in it.”
He has been urging his Brother to complete, as soon as he possibly
can, Part Second of the Autobiography; and he hopes that the call for
this Second Edition of Part First at so early a date will successfully
enforce his appeal.
February, 1889.
CONTENTS.
 CHAPTER I.
EARLIER DAYS.
PAGE
Introductory Note 3
Kirkmahoe 4
Torthorwald Village 5
Our Villagers 6
Nithsdale Scenes 7
Our Cottage Home 9
Our Forebears 12
An Idyll of the Heart 16
A Consecrated Father 19
Accepted Vows 21
Happy Sabbath Days 22
Golden Autumn of Life 26

CHAPTER II.
AT SCHOOL AND COLLEGE.
A Typical Scottish School 31
An Unacknowledged Prize 32
A Wayward Master 33
Learning a Trade 33
My Father’s Prayers 34
“Jehovah Jireh” 34
With Sappers and Miners 36
The Harvest Field 38
On the Road to Glasgow 39
A Memorable Parting 40
Before the Examiners 42
Killing Work 43
Deep Waters 44
Maryhill School 45
Rough School Scenes 46
“Aut Cæsar Aut Nullus” 48
My Wages 49
 CHAPTER III.
IN GLASGOW CITY MISSION.
“He Leadeth Me” 53
A Degraded District 55
The Gospel in a Hay-Loft 56
New Mission Premises 58
At Work for Jesus 59
At War with Hell 62
Sowing Gospel Seed 64
Publicans on the War Path 65
Marched to the Police Office 67
Papists and Infidels 69
An Infidel Saved 70
An Infidel in Despair 71
A Brand from the Burning 72
A Saintly Child 75
Papists in Arms 77
Elder and Student 81

CHAPTER IV.
FOREIGN MISSION CLAIMS.
The Wail of the Heathen 85
A Missionary Wanted 85
Two Souls on the Altar 87
Lions in the Path 89
The Old Folks at Home 92
Successors in Green Street Mission 95
Old Green Street Hands 97
A Father in God 97

CHAPTER V.
THE NEW HEBRIDES.
License and Ordination 101
At Sea 102
From Melbourne to Aneityum 102
Settlement on Tanna 105
Our Mission Stations 106
 Diplomatic Chiefs 107
Painful First Impressions 108
Bloody Scenes 109
The Widow’s Doom 111

CHAPTER VI.
LIFE AND DEATH ON TANNA.
Our Island Home 115
Learning the Language 116
A Religion of Fear 118
With or Without a God 119
Ideas of the Invisible 120
Gods and Demons 121
My Companion Missionary 122
Pioneers in New Hebrides 123
Missionaries of Aneityum 125
The Lord’s Arrowroot 126
Unhealthy Sites 127
The Great Bereavement 129
Memorial Tributes 131
Selwyn and Patteson at a Tanna Grave 133
Her Last Letter 134
Last Words 137
Presentiment and Mystery 138

CHAPTER VII.
MISSION LEAVES FROM TANNA.
Tannese Natives 141
“Tabooed” 142
Jehovah’s Rain 143
“Big Hays” 144
War and Cannibalism 145
The Lot of Woman 146
Sacred Days 148
Preaching in Villages 149
Native Teachers 150
The War Shell 151
 Deadly Superstitions 152
A League of Blood 154
Chiefs in Council 155
Defence of Women 157
A League of Peace 157
Secret Disciples 159
A Christo-Heathen Funeral 159
Clever Thieves 160
Ships of Fire 164
H.M.S. Cordelia 166
Captain Vernon and Miaki 167
The Captain and the Chiefs 168
The John Williams 169
Evanescent Impressions 170
A House on the Hill 171
In Fever Grips 171
“Noble Old Abraham” 172
Critics in Easy Chairs 174

CHAPTER VIII.
MORE MISSION LEAVES FROM TANNA.
The Blood-Fiend Unleashed 179
In the Camp of the Enemy 180
A Typical South Sea Trader 182
Young Rarip’s Death 183
The Trader’s Retribution 185
Worship and War 186
Saved from Strangling 187
Wrath Restrained 188
Under the Axe 191
The Clubbing of Namuri 193
A Native Saint and Martyr 195
Bribes Refused 197
Widows Rescued 197
The Sinking of a Well 198
Church-Building on Tanna 199
Ancient Stone God 201
 Printing First Tannese Book 201
A Christian Captain 203
Levelled Muskets 204
A French Refugee 205
A Villainous Captain 208
Like Master—Like Men 209
Wrecked on Purpose 212
The Kanaka Traffic 213
A Heathen Festival 215
Sacrifices to Idols 218
Heathen Dance and Sham Fight 219
Six Native Teachers 221
A Homeric Episode 222
Victims for Cannibal Feast 223
The Jaws of Death 224
Nahak or Sorcery 226
Killing me by Nahak 227
Nahak Defied 229
Protected by Jehovah 230
“Almost Persuaded” 231
Escorted to the Battle-Field 232
Praying for Enemies 233
Our Canoe on the Reef 233
A Perilous Pilgrimage 236
Rocks and Waters 237

CHAPTER IX.
DEEPENING SHADOWS.
Welcome Guests 243
A Fiendish Deed 244
The Plague of Measles 245
A Heroic Soul 246
Horrors of Epidemic 247
A Memorable New Year 248
A Missionary Attacked 249
In the Valley of the Shadow 251
Blow from an Adze 252
A Missionary’s Death 253
Mrs. Johnston’s Letter 255
A Heavy Loss 256
The Story of Kowia 256
Kowia’s Soliloquy 258
The Passing of Kowia 259
Mortality of Measles 261
Fuel to the Fire 262
Hurricanes 262
A Spate of Blood and Terror 263
Nowar Vacillates 265
The Anger of the Gods 265
Not Afraid to Die 266
Martyrs of Erromanga 267
Visit to the Gordons 268
Their Martyrdom 269
Vindication of the Gordons 270
Gordon’s Last Letter 272
Plots of Murder 273
Death by Nahak 275
Nowar Halting Again 275
Old Abraham’s Prayer 277
Miaki and the Mission House 278
Satanic Influences 280
Perplexity Deepening 280
Bishop Selwyn’s Testimony 281
Rotten Tracts 283
Captain and Mate of Blue Bell 285
My Precious Dog 287
Fishing Nets and Kawases 288
The Taro Plant 290
The Kava Drink 290
Katasian and the Club Scene 291
The Yams 292
Sunshine and Shadow 292
Teachers Demoralized 293
The Chief’s Alphabet 294