She stood with enough force that her chair careened across the room, one caster catching on the carpet and nearly tipping the seat over. She yanked her arm free from Jim’s bruising grasp, straightened her jacket and then faced Jim. “Do not ever,evergrab me again, Jim Franks. You have no authority to touch me without my consent and never,everin anger. Do you understand me? Please respond verbally as I’ve been required to do.”
“Get out,” Jim growled at the same time Christopher Lord bellowed, “You’re fired, Miss Sullivan.”
She rounded on the rotund man with slow control, channeling Isaac Miller, mimicking movements she’d seen him make with ease and grace. Lifting her chin, she met the gazes of the three men who had created the firm that had been her professional home for the last seven years. No more. She’d sworn she would never, ever give another man power over her, and this was where she took her stand. Not only for Isaac Miller and what they might have had, but also for herself. “You can’t fire me, you arrogant, judgmental, pompous sons of bitches. I quit.”
And she walked out of that conference room with her head held high knowing she’d taken the final step in asserting her freedom from her past.
Rachel Sullivan had opened the door to her future.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BENKINGHADdone exactly as Isaac had asked, but the plaintiff’s counsel claimed extenuating circumstances and had put off the requested meeting until Wednesday afternoon. When Isaac and Ben arrived, they were as prepared as could be for the media, saying nothing more than “no comment,” over and over as they pushed their way into the high-rise, crossed the lobby as fast as possible and stepped into the first available elevator car to open its doors.
The digital display silently counted the floors as the car climbed, and, with each level they passed, Isaac found his chest growing tighter and tighter. He slowed his breathing, counted backward from twenty, focused on his heartbeat, pictured a sunny beach and the sound of the waves—all things he’d taught himself to do to beat back panic attacks.
Yet this time, nothing helped.
Rubbing the heel of his hand up and down his sternum, he knew he had to look fierce. Hefeltfierce. In five minutes or less, he would be facing off with Rachel for the first time since they’d said goodbye.
The first time since he’d learned she had lied to him.
She had played him, and it wasn’t something he was proud of. Worse, she had managed to pull years of suppressed emotions to the surface—emotions he wasn’t equipped to handle.
On cue, his chest tightened another degree.
The elevator stopped and the digitalized feminine voice announced they had arrived at the forty-sixth floor.
Ben stepped out, tugging his jacket straight and adjusting the messenger bag he carried. The doors began to close before he realized he was alone. He looked around and, seeing Isaac still standing in the elevator, slapped a hand on one door as it began to close. “You coming?”
“Yeah.”No.
“That would require you to actually get out of the elevator, Isaac.”
“Yeah.”No.
But he did, his steps leaden, his movements far from smooth.
Ben cleared his throat. “Ah, Isaac?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re going to have to pull it together and say something other than ‘yeah’ when we’re in there. If you aren’t up for this—” the slightly older man whipped his head to the side and popped his neck “—now would be the time to tell me.”
“I’m good.”
Ben studied him with open concern. “You sure?” He held up a hand. “Wait, wait. I know the answer. ‘Yeah.’”
Shaking his head, Isaac turned and approached the double doors that led into the firm’s reception area.
At the desk, a young man worked the phone lines with practiced ease, holding up a finger to indicate he’d be right with them. After transferring the call he’d been on, he smiled at Isaac. “How may I help you?”
“We’re here to see Rachel Sullivan and Jim Franks.”
“Certainly. Your names, please?”
“Isaac Miller and Ben King.”
The receptionist issued two visitor’s badges before instructing Isaac and Ben to take a seat.