Cruel State of Mind

02. how to get away with murder

"Isabela, my office. Now."

"Oh, God. He didn't call you kid." Nadira, one of the paralegals, looks at me, horrified. Lawrence has the annoying habit of calling everyone who's not thirty-five yet kid, except for when he's not in a good mood. And the only reason he'd be upset this morning would be... Sebastian.

I walk into his office and, just like I expected, I see Sebastian sitting on the large black sofa.

"It has been brought to my attention that you had some... complications yesterday during the interview with Mr. Williams."

"It won't happen again," I say under my breath as I glance at Sebastian. He looks away quickly. Coward.

Lawrence raises a brow and looks at me with a pinch of... concern?

"If you don't feel comfortable working this case I can always assign you to something else."

"I said it won't happen again." I turn on my heels and walk out of the office. Lawrence likes to push my buttons, mostly because he wants me to stand up for myself, or so he says. The one thing that I hate about working in this field is finding a balance between making others respect you without coming across as a jerk and respecting others without appearing toady. As I've learned in the past few years, this is double as hard if you're a woman.

The way Lawrence doesn't seem to care if people think he is reprehensible and obnoxious as long as they respect him—and as long as he keeps making money—is what makes everyone in this firm want to thrive, even if they hate it here every morning. He's good at selling the illusion that, even if you came from the bottom, you can still aspire to reach his level of success only by being confident and having that drive to win at absolutely everything.

Being a lawyer isn't what most people think it is, though. We're always buried in papers, and half of the job is being well-connected. Most of the time, justice is just a word —it only takes one good lawyer to know those little legal loopholes that allow them to twist the law enough to make the whole system bend to their will. That if you also have the resources to do so, of course.

That I learned from Elaine Simmons, also known on the Upper East Side as your best American criminal defense attorney. Lawrence might be the right person to close a million-dollar deal, but Elaine is the person you call when you want to get away with murder. I was lucky enough to be selected for her lecture at Columbia, which then led me to work at her small firm. It was because of her that I was even offered that internship at Griffiths & Richmond to begin with. I knew what she was doing when she suggested I apply for it —she believed I was good but not good enough to be a defense attorney. She was looking for someone to follow in her steps, and I just didn't have the guts to do so.

"Hey, Bella?" I look up. Sebastian is standing by the door with his arms crossed. "You know I had to tell Lawrence, right?"

"You didn't have to. I told you it wouldn't happen again. Couldn't you just let it go?"

"I just... I'm worried."

"Yeah, right," I scoff. "I have plenty of work to do, so if you'll excuse me," I say as I open one of the folders on my desk and pretend to be reading. Still, I can feel Sebastian's eyes on me, studying me until I finally look up again.

"You haven't been the same since we started working on Williams' case."

I freeze. Is it that obvious? Am I letting this affect me to the point where even self-centered Sebastian has noticed?