Page 119 of Dial L for Lawyer
"Big time. Keeps finding excuses to drop by Bennett's office just to talk to her. There’s a big project coming up that they have to work on together and he’s already driving her insane about it. Bennett says he's already booked three pre-project strategy meetings that are just an excuse to get her in a room alone."
"She's going to eat him alive," Audrey says with a certain amount of glee.
"And he'll probably thank her for it," I add, taking another bite of French toast.
"I aspire to that level of composed disdain," Audrey sighs, looking down at her notebook. "If I could just channel one-tenth of her energy, maybe I could get Logan to upgrade me to fuckable."
"You don't need to be anyone else, Aud," Layla says gently. "Logan's just... uniquely dense."
"Ugh. It's hard to tell." Audrey shrugs. "Anyway, back to Serena. We need to discuss Monday strategy. Hair up or down?"
"Down," Layla says immediately. "More approachable."
"Up," Audrey counters. "More professional."
They start debating while I zone out, thinking about Jenna's parting words.They need you more than you need them.
Maybe she's right. Maybe for one rare moment in time, I hold all the cards.
"Earth to Serena," Layla says, waving a hand in front of my face. "Where'd you go?"
"Just thinking about Monday."
"Monday will take care of itself,” she says. “Today is for mimosas and gossip.”
“And planning Layla’s wedding," Audrey adds.
"Speaking of which," Layla says, brightening. "I need to tell you about the Poseidon ice sculpture Bennett insists on having..."
The conversation shifts to wedding planning, and I let their chatter wash over me. For the first time since I was a kid, I don’t have this pick of anxiety inside of me. I have my name cleared, I have my friends, I have Caleb, and apparently, I have Jenna and her threat assessment rankings on my side.
Life could definitely be worse.
CHAPTER 29
Serena
Monday comes so quickly it feels like time's being fast-forwarded. I'm standing in my apartment at seven a.m., hands shaking a little as I pull my navy power suit from the closet. Caleb dropped me off an hour ago after I refused his offer to buy me something new.
"You have clothes at my place," he'd argued.
"Weekend clothes. Not 'destroy-my-enemy-in-the-boardroom' clothes."
“Then I’ll take you shopping.”
"No," I'd said, maybe a little too sharply. "I have to do this myself. In my own armor."
He'd understood, thankfully, thought he escorted me inside, checking every corner like the press might be hiding in my shower, before reluctantly leaving to prep at his office. The apartment feels strange after spending the weekend at his penthouse—too quiet, too small, like trying on old clothes that don't quite fit anymore.
I squeeze into the skirt, tug the white silk blouse over my head, and note the dangerous, glowing hope that's been growing inside me all weekend.
Caleb texts while I'm fighting with my hair:
Caleb:
Car will be there at 8:30. Don't even think about taking an Uber.
Me:
