Page 120 of Dial L for Lawyer
Bossy.
Caleb:
You love it.
I do. God help me, I really do.
By the time his town car pulls up, I've stress-applied lipstick three times and changed my shoes twice. The driver opens the door and I slide in to find Caleb already inside, looking lethal in charcoal gray, his lucky burgundy tie perfect.
"Hi," I manage. “I didn’t expect to see you until we got there.”
"Couldn’t stay away." He takes in my suit, my carefully built armor. "You look ready to destroy someone."
"That's the plan."
"Good." He laces our fingers together, his thumb immediately finding that spot on my wrist that makes me shiver. "Everything OK? No reporters?"
"All clear. Your security sweep was very thorough."
"Should've just bought you something."
"I neededmyarmor." I smooth the skirt. "This suit has won wars."
"Lucky suit?"
"Lucky suit." I squeeze his hand harder than necessary. "I'm nervous."
"I know." He brings our joined hands to his lips, kisses my knuckles. "They should be nervous. Not you."
The city blurs past—glass and steel and Monday morning ambition. I realize this is what having a partner feels like. Someone riding shotgun when you're heading into battle.
"Whatever happens," Caleb says quietly, "we're OK, right? You and me?"
I turn to look at him. This man who dropped everything to save me. Who makes me laugh when I want to scream. Who loves me even after seeing all my messy, scared and broken parts. The only man who never flinched. Not once.
"Yeah," I say. "We're perfect."
"Good." Another kiss to my knuckles. "Because after we destroy them, I'm taking you to lunch. Somewhere terrible. With pancakes."
"Pancakes?"
"Victory pancakes are a tradition."
"Since when?"
"Since right now."
The car pulls up to Luminous, and my stomach drops. Last time I was here, security treated me like a criminal.
"Hey." Caleb cups my face, forces me to meet his eyes. "You own this. Walk in there like you already won. Because you have."
"Have I?"
"Maya's probably in handcuffs by now. So yes."
We walk through the lobby together, and every head turns. The security guard who followed me around won't make eye contact. The receptionist whispers frantically into her headset. I spot my team through the glass walls of our workspace—Lisa's crying, James looks shell-shocked.
The boardroom is packed. Richard Sterling at the head, looking exhausted. Patricia Wong from HR, unreadable asalways. David gives us a small nod. The entire board, assembled like a jury.
