Run for Your Life

  "Yeah, I know." Paul gave Meg an apologetic grin. "Sorry, pal. I didn't mean to jump down your throat."

  "No problem. I overreacted. Besides, I don't need to worry about your laying it on too thick. Humility's not in your nature." Meg's teasing retort was affectionate. But she still looked preoccupied, as if there was something bugging her.

  Victoria soon found out what it was. And it had nothing to do with their firm's arrangement with Waters, Kensington, Tatem & Calder.

  "You look exhausted," Meg stated bluntly. "You obviously didn't get a wink of sleep. And you weren't reachable last night. Why? Were you with your father, ironing out the details?"

  "No. I wasn't with my father."

  "I didn't think so. Need I ask who you were with?"

  Trust Meg's dead-on emotional sonar.

  "Obviously not." Victoria saw no point in lying. It was clear from the knowing glint in Meg's eyes that she'd already guessed—or at least she thought she'd guessed last night's scenario. Oh, she was right about whom Victoria had spent the night with, but wrong about what they'd done, why they were together. The worst part was, Victoria couldn't set her straight. "I was with Zach." She braced herself for the inevitable inquisition.

  It never came.

  Paul's surprised "Zach?" was cut off by Meg's purposeful shake of the head. He took her cue and fell silent.

  "I'm glad," Meg told Victoria simply. "You two have some unresolved issues to clear up."

  Meg was more right than she realized, Victoria mused. her insides tightening. They did have many unresolved issues. But the most dire of those issues weren't the intimate ones Meg was alluding to.

  "Apparently we do." Victoria glanced at her watch, then stepped away from the chair. "I've got to run. Park Avenue uwaits. Then it's on to court. And after that ..." A slight pause. "If I don't get back here tonight, I'll fill you in tomorrow. Okay?"

  "Why wouldn't you get back here—?" Paul took one look at Meg's disapproving expression and thought better of his question. "Fine. Good luck."

  "Yeah, thanks," Victoria said dryly, smoothing the blazer of her tailored, toast-colored suit. "I'll need it."

  * * *

  16

  Zach was right.

  Some things never change.

  Clearly, the offices of Waters, Kensington, Tatem & Calder fell into that category.

  Victoria inched her way through the exquisite, endless walnut-paneled conference room alongside her father, thinking that—with the exception of state-of-the-art computers and a small number of new, young attorneys and newer, younger secretaries—the offices looked and felt much the same as they had when she was girl. Even the smells were the same: rich leather, expensive cologne, a hint of pipe tobacco, and fresh-brewed coffee.

  Actually, today it was more than just coffee. It was a six-foot table filled with fresh-baked croissants and pastries, four kinds of juice, and three silver urns—two filled with coffee, regular and decaf, and a third with hot water for tea.

  The room itself was packed, everyone of consequence having been informed that this was a command performance. Everyone of consequence included the some forty-plus attorneys who defined the ranks of Waters, Kensington, Tatem & Calder from new associate to senior partner, the paralegal and executive secretarial staff, and a few hourly employees. The latter, Victoria noted with disgust, were there only as waitresses—to serve breakfast to the senior partners and ensure everything ran smoothly. Not that there was any question things would run smoothly—not with Miss Hatterman patrolling the room and overseeing the breakfast buffet like an imperious maitre d'.

  No, nothing here had changed.

  Except that now she was no longer just Walter Kensington's bright young daughter. Now she was a potential acquisition.

  This was going to be quite an experience.

  Moving from person to person, shaking hand after hand, Victoria felt like a bride on a receiving line.

  A very reserved, very judgmental receiving line.

  The senior partners were older, their faces craggier than they'd been the last time she had seen them, six or seven years ago.

  Joseph Waters was a mere figurehead now, nearing eighty and semiretired, coming in when he chose to, usually to attend a grand-scale client meeting or a major convening of the partnership. Alfred Tatem was about her father's age, with a tight-lipped smile and cold blue eyes that delved with an icy intensity that was unnerving. Then again, that unnerving trait would be an asset in the courtroom. And since Mr. Tatem handled high-level corporate litigation as well as antitrust matters, the courtroom was his second home. So his intimidating veneer was as welcome to the firm as her father's.

  Gregory Calder, who was in his mid-fifties, was bald and stocky, and daring enough to actually allow his teeth to show through his lips when he smiled—a rarity here indeed. Mr. Calder worked primarily with the newer Fortune 100 accounts he'd brought into the firm. To that end, he had a large number of the junior partners working under him, putting in eighteen-hour days to earn their next promotion.

  There were four more senior partners—three of whom were in the image of the others.

  Then there was Elizabeth Bonner.

  Ms. Bonner had been with the firm for twenty years, the first female attorney to grace the halls of Waters, Ken- sington, Tatera & Calder. She was also the first and only woman in the practice who'd risen to the ranks of senior partner. Rumor had it that those factors, combined with the enormous amount of business she brought in, prompted her reputedly ongoing battle to have the firm name changed to Waters, Kensington, Tatem, Calder & Bonner.

  So far, the battle was still raging.

  In her early fifties, Ms. Bonner looked ten years younger. Slender and petite, subtly but expensively made up, she was impeccably dressed and poised, with short, elegantly styled auburn hair, steel-gray eyes, and a hard, no-nonsense demeanor that kept even Miss Hatterman in line. She was a crackerjack attorney whose versatility enabled her to handle everything from mergers and acquisitions to a select number of highly visible, extraordinarily lucrative matrimonial cases—all with the same level of brilliance and expertise.

  Victoria didn't particularly like the woman, who possessed all the compassion of a power-hungry dictator, but she did hold a deep respect for her. She admired her keen legal mind, her versatility, and her sheer grit and determination. After all, fighting for recognition in a chauvinistic firm like this one—well, Victoria certainly didn't envy her.

  Ms. Bonner shook Victoria's hand,, assessing her thoroughly, not put off in the least by Walter Kensington's formidable presence at his daughter's side.

  "Hello, Ms. Kensington. It's been quite some time," she said in a wintry tone.

  "Yes, it has. Years, in fact. It's a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Bonner." Victoria grasped the older woman's fingers in a firm handshake, meeting her bold gaze with equally direct intensity.

  "Let's see—Columbia Law, class of ninety-seven, graduated with honors and at the top of your class. Three years at Howell, Baker and Graves, primarily in the areas of matrimonial and corporate litigation. And now your own firm. Very impressive. I hear you'll be coming to work for us."

  Victoria gave her a perfunctory smile. "I'll be with your firm two days a week for several months," she replied, wondering if Ms. Bonner had also memorized her college transcript "I'm looking forward to it."

  The use of "with" instead of "for" wasn't lost on Ms. Bonner.

  Her reaction, however, was not what Victoria expected.

  "I'm in the midst of outlining a summons and complaint in a very complex matrimonial case," she proclaimed, and Victoria could swear she saw a tiny glint of approval in those frosty eyes. "The CEO of a Fortune 50 company is being sued by his wife of forty years. I'd be interested in your input. Stop by my secretary's desk when you come in next week. She'll have a copy of the case for you to look over."

  Victoria inclined her head. "Which of the parties do we represent?"

  It wasn't her imagination. That g
lint was definitely there.

  "His wife. She's run the house, the staff and, in my opinion, the more political aspects of her husband's career since the day they married. Not to mention raising four children and heading up several charitable organizations, all of which bettered her husband's standing in the corporation and the community. He's returned her devotion with a string of mistresses and the misuse of their joint bank accounts. His wife's had enough. She thinks she's entitled to more. I intend to get it for her—and then some. Given your propensity for such cases, I trust that's appealing?"

  Maybe this woman wasn't so bad after all. "I'll see your secretary the first day I'm in," Victoria promised.

  "Do that." Ms. Bonner nodded, then turned to accept a cup a coffee from one of the secretaries.

  Victoria's father used the opportunity to steer her away, leading her deeper into the room. "You're doing well," he pronounced, the statement as close to praise as Walter Kensington ever offered. "There are a number of people I'd like you to meet before you leave for court."

  "Of course." Victoria accepted the glass of orange juice she was offered by a young girl, smiling her thanks and knowing full well her father wouldn't think to introduce them. Secretaries and receptionists were invisible, as far as he was concerned.

  He wasn't much better with the junior partners, particularly the female ones. A terse nod, a brief introduction, and it was on to the next person. Victoria had to keep herself from wincing at his openly condescending attitude toward women and subordinates. It reminded her of the way he treated Audrey.

  Thinking of Audrey, Victoria's glance shifted in the direction of her father's office. No use in even considering trying to get down there this morning. It was at the other end of the floor entirely, with dozens of people blocking her path. It would have to wait until next week.

  "Good morning, Mr. Kensington. At last—a chance to meet the daughter you speak so highly of."

  Victoria's attention snapped back to the introductions at hand, and she turned, raising her chin to meet the approving gaze of a good-looking, dark-haired man in his mid-thirties. His features were lean and chiseled, his skin tanned, whether from a sunlamp or a week on the beach, Victoria wasn't sure. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his custom suit three times more expensive than the best off-the-rack designer suit. But his smile was genuine and welcoming, and his keen blue eyes inspected her with interest and a within-bounds hint of admiration.

  "Ian. Good. I'm glad you're here," Walter Kensington greeted him, his approval obvious. "Victoria, I'd like you to meet Ian Block. He's been with us twelve years now, since he graduated from Harvard Law. He's one of our most promising junior partners."

  Of course, Victoria thought dryly. Harvard Law. Two points for Ian Block.

  "A pleasure, Mr. Block." She extended her hand.

  "The pleasure is mine, Ms. Kensington." He shook her hand, his grip professional but friendly. "I've heard a great deal about you. I'm pleased you'll be working with us."

  "As am I." Victoria smiled politely. Pausing, she took a sip of juice, ostensibly because she was thirsty, actually because she wanted a few seconds to size up Ian Block.

  Magnetic, bright, sure of himself. A savvy politician and a Harvard grad.

  He was a shoo-in for senior partner.

  "Ian works closely with five of the eight senior partners," Walter confirmed her assessment by explaining. "Including myself. He's a fine corporate attorney, well on his way to a lucrative future."

  Ah. Make that senior partner before he's forty, Victoria determined silently.

  "You'll be working closely with Ian at the beginning— until you're up to date on the various corporate clients we're representing. He'll explain the assorted mergers and acquisitions we're negotiating, the litigations that are pending, et cetera." A meaningful pause. "He'll also decide which of our less time-consuming clients he can refer out to Paul London."

  A clear message to be cooperative.

  "That's fine." Victoria inclined her head, giving Ian Block a questioning look. "I'll be sure to see you when I get in next week. Which office is yours?"

  "Halfway down on your left." He pointed. "My secretary, Miss Whiting, will buzz me as soon as you arrive. Which will be when, by the way?"

  "I have to discuss those details with my father. I'm sure he'll advise you of my schedule."

  "Miss Hatterman will be sending out a memo later today," her father assured Ian.

  "Excellent." Ian's smile was like something out of a magazine. "Then, please, don't let me keep you. Your father mentioned you're due in court at nine."

  "Yes, I am. I'll see you next week, then."

  Victoria walked away, thinking there was something; about Ian Block that bore further reflection: not his motives—those were glaringly obvious—but his subtle but perceptible attentions toward her.

  She wasn't naive enough to believe he was taken with her, nor was he stupid enough to come on to her—at least not overtly. It had to be one of two things. Either he'd decided to earn extra brownie points with Walter Kensington by charming his daughter—a plan that was doomed to failure, since she wasn't susceptible to his charms and her father never gave a thought to her social life. Or, he was worried that she was his prime competitor, vying neck-and-neck for the next senior partner opening. If that was the case, he was sizing her up, deciding whether to disarm her or sabotage her.

  Either way, he'd want to keep an eye on her, see what she hoped to gain out of this three-month affiliation with her father's firm.

  His precious partnership was safe. She didn't want it. But his scrutiny—now that might present a problem, if it meant keeping close tabs on her whereabouts. She had no intention of letting Ian Block interfere with her search for information on Audrey and the Hope Institute.

  Victoria went on to meet five or six more junior partners. Those introductions, like the one to Ian, were lengthy and eloquent, which meant that every one of those partners—all men, of course—were her father's personal favorites, destined for stellar careers. Each of them was cordial in a wary and patronizing way—wary because of the threat she represented, patronizing because of her gender.

  Working here was going to be an exercise in self-control. If she didn't bite her tongue several times a day, she'd end up getting tossed out on her ear.

  Shaking Ian Block loose and assisting Elizabeth Bonner with that matrimonial case were beginning to look like the highlights of her association with Waters, Kensington, Tatem & Calder.

  Other than the information she was determined to uncover.

  A half hour later, her father escorted her to the elevator, giving her a nod of approval as he dismissed her. "That went very smoothly. I'm pleased." He flourished an envelope, then pressed it into her hand.

  "What's this?" Victoria's brows drew together as she tore open the seal and extracted what appeared to be a calli-graphically addressed invitation.

  "Your mother and I are hosting a dinner party Saturday night in honor of your affiliation with my firm. At the house. Nothing too elaborate. The partners and their wives will be there, as will our more prominent clients and their spouses."

  Already? Miss Hatterman must have been penning her fingers to the bone till dawn.

  "Father, Saturday night is two days away, and I—"

  "Oh, and Jim and Clarissa will be there, as well. I spoke with Jim late last night. He was delighted with the news. He assured me he and Clarissa wouldn't miss the occasion."

  Bribery, Victoria reflected, unsurprised by the maneuver. It was typical of her father. He knew damned well she wouldn't say no once she heard her uncle and aunt were coming. She'd realize they accepted the invitation specifically to offer her the moral support she needed.

  She was half tempted to checkmate him.

  Until the full extent of what he was unintentionally offering her sank in.

  The firm's most prominent clients.

  That included Benjamin Hopewell.

  "Victoria? You're not going to di
sappoint me, are you? Your mother sat up half the night planning the menu."

  Another twist of the knife used to persuade her. Her mother's emotional well-being.

  "It's just that I have plans," she murmured, steering this head-to-head exactly where she intended it to go, at the same time supplying the specific information Zach bad suggested— information she'd meant to supply earlier, but hadn't had the chance. Not that her father had noticed her fatigue enough to mention it, anyway. "An old friend of mine is in town. He and I are having dinner."

  "He?" Her father's eyes narrowed. "Do I know him?"

  Is he suitable? Victoria silently interpreted.

  "Yes," she said aloud. "You've met him, although I'm not sure you'll remember. It was several years ago. Zachary Hamilton."

  Damn, she wished her father wasn't such a master at maintaining his poker face. What was he thinking? How was he reacting to her mention of Zach's name? Was he aware of Zach's FBI affiliation?

  "I remember Hamilton," was the undecipherable reply. "In fact, I believe we have some mutual clients. He's been in Europe these past years, as I recall."

  "He's in New York to speak at a conference."

  "Bring him with you."

  Victoria chewed her lip, pretending to weigh her options. "I'm not sure—"

  "The two of you can be alone another evening. Besides, whether it means renewing old business relationships or developing new ones, Hamilton will benefit nicely from face-to-face interactions with a roomful of CEOs."

  "I don't doubt it."

  Her father took that to mean consent. "I'll send a car to pick you up."