More than Meets the Eye

Chapter 1

Chapter one

“We, the jury, find the defendant guilty on all charges of theft of intellectual property and breach of contract.”

Baz fought the upward pull at the corner of his mouth until the judge banged her gavel and awarded his client fifteen million dollars in damages. Only then did he let his smirk spread freely.

Moments like these made all the years of slaving through law school, the long hours, and the sleepless nights worth it. Nothing compared to the hot, tantalizing rush of victory coursing through his body.

The erupting murmurs from spectators exchanging their thoughts drowned out the steady whoosh of the air conditioner that had tried to distract him throughout the trial.

The court reporter jumped up. Baz tilted his chin to a perfect angle seconds before the camera flash sent dots dancing in his vision.

Every picture could be the one—the one accompanying the future headline: Sebastian Hadley Made Youngest Partner In Dunkeld Wilson’s History.

He had been working toward that goal since his first day at UChicago Law, hell, since the day he’d decided to become a lawyer. He had two more years to beat the current record of thirty-one. He would.

His client, a short guy named Carter whose enormous glasses refused to stay on the bridge of his nose, shook Baz’s hand frantically while muttering a stream of thank-yous.

Damn right. Fifteen million dollars was life-changing money for a start-up like TechNova.

Just because they were up-and-coming did not mean a bigger company could get away with bullying them.

“My pleasure.”

It truly had been. At its best, a court of law was a stage, and lawyers were the lead actors delivering a show to enthrall the jury. Baz’s performance the past four days had been nothing short of Oscar-worthy.

Not that the opposition appreciated the spectacle they’d been allowed to witness.

The defendant made a face so sour it was bound to spoil the milk in every overpriced coffee shop within a three-mile radius.

That was nothing new, but Baz expected better from the guy’s attorney than the constipated scowl he wore.

Although, it did beat the patronizing grin he’d been wearing during every settlement negotiation.

Baz winked at Mr. A-Ten-Million-Dollar-Compensation-Is-Insane.

One day, everyone in the Chicago law scene would know that when Baz Hadley offered a settlement, it was an act of kindness, an out for the opposition to save themselves from the embarrassment of losing.

Until then, he was happy to keep teaching that lesson.

The long, high-ceilinged hallway outside the courtroom bustled with reporters coming alive when the door opened. Camera flashes went off like a sea of lightning that would make any thunderstorm insecure. Baz tensed to keep from flinching at the onslaught of brightness.

“Follow my lead,” he instructed Carter and braved his way through the reporters, searching for a way out.

“Are you happy with the outcome?” A man shoved an ABC-branded mic right under Baz’s nose. What kind of question was that? Did they expect Baz to say he’d rather have lost? Instead of responding, Baz mustered his best polite smile.

“Mr. Carter, any words for the defendant?” a woman in an MSNBC rain jacket asked.

So many—if Carter’s past rants had been any indication—none of which Baz could let him repeat to the press or else Aya would kick his butt.

One of the first lessons she’d taught him was not letting a client ruin a victory by running their mouth, and Baz knew better than to ignore her wisdom.

After all, she wore heels every day, and she wasn’t the kind of person who shied away from throwing them.

Baz was too attached to his eyes to risk it for a cocky moment in the limelight.

He kept maneuvering Carter through the crowd.

The reporters followed.

“What’s next for TechNova?” the ABC guy asked.

Carter stopped. Four microphones darted toward his face. So much for following Baz’s lead.

Baz stood by his side, ready to cut in the second Carter’s answers strayed from professionalism.

“We’ll continue to stay true to our mission and innovate accessible technology to make people’s lives easier, thanks to the justice brought to us by the jury, and this guy right here.” He patted Baz’s shoulder.

Weightlessness expanded through Baz’s chest; he felt as though he were floating on clouds. What a magnificent view from up here. Shame to cut the praise short but being a spoilsport was a lawyer’s privilege.

“My client does not have time for further questions. We will release a statement to the press soon. Thank you.” He placed a hand between Carter’s shoulder blades and nudged him to walk.

Even the pushiest reporters hung back and allowed them to turn the corner, go past the security line and into the entrance hall.

“Seriously, Hadley, I can’t thank you enough.” Carter offered his hand out, sweaty and uncomfortably warm. Baz fought to keep the smile plastered on his face.

“You got it.”

He waited until Carter disappeared into the restroom before wiping his hand on his soft cotton pants.

He sighed out a long breath, willed the tension to bleed out of his shoulders.

Another case done, another client happy, another win in the books.

If Baz kept up the momentum—and he would—there was no way he’d be denied a promotion much longer.

Now, where was the disinfectant to rub his skin free from that lingering moistness…

A weight cannonballed against his back and sent him stumbling forward. Two arms slung around his neck, squeezing him tight.

“You did so well, superstar!”

Oh, the good things kept on coming.

He freed himself from the chokehold and was met by Eevee’s beaming face. Beneath the eyebrow-length bangs, laugh lines crinkled the warm, coffee-brown eyes she had inherited from their mother. Rude, given that Baz got stuck with their father’s mud-brown ones.

“Hey.” He pulled her into a proper hug and drew a deep breath of her sweet vanilla perfume. The smell of home. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have work?”

Eevee and her husband, Joel, ran a café in the South Loop. Between that and her part-time job at UChicago’s Student Services, she rarely had an afternoon off.

“You said today is important, of course I’m here. I’m so proud of you!”

Important was an understatement. This had been his biggest solo case so far, and it had gone much better than he had hoped for. The whole trial, he had been on fire, filled with a righteous passion that spread to the jury, the judge even.

A giggle threatened to bubble out of him; he stifled it before it could embarrass him.

“Thanks, Eve.”

The door to the Daley Plaza separating the courthouse from the street opened at their approach, revealing the back end of the Chicago Picasso sculpture.

Somewhere nearby, a car honked. The gray clouds swallowed the top of the downtown skyscrapers, pushed there by the same wind that threw Eevee’s long, chestnut hair into his face.

Baz buttoned his black, double-breasted coat tighter with one hand; the other, hooked around his briefcase handle, was doomed to suffer the cold. As always, the weather had not gotten the memo that today was meant to be a happy day. At least the snow had mostly vanished.

“Right, let’s go to lunch!” Eevee chirped. “I texted Joel, he’s making your favorite sandwich as we speak.”

Baz’s stomach growled at the memory. Hummus with coleslaw, some arugula, mango, cucumber, all on rye bread, all homemade…

He swallowed lest he drooled. Not fair that she dangled her husband’s culinary skills in front of his face when she knew Baz couldn’t just take a break in the middle of the workday.

This was a critical phase in his career.

To get ahead, he had to be seen working harder than anyone else.

“I wish, but I gotta get back to the office.”

“I don’t care. Post-trial traditions ought to be honored.”

That would have been a good argument, except that their tradition was to meet on the day his trials ended, not immediately after he stepped out of the courtroom. It was barely two pm.

“I’ll come by tonight instead.”

“He’s already making it! I’ll text Aya myself.”

“Aya’s not my boss.” Not technically. She was only one of the most successful partners at the firm.

Baz had all but begged her to polish him to her level of excellence on the first day of his summer associateship six years ago.

Her mentorship was an honor he took seriously.

He wouldn’t jeopardize it by frolicking to lunch just because he had done well at trial.

“See, that’s the spirit! Come on. You worked hard. You deserve to celebrate.” She pulled him south, the opposite direction of where he needed to go.

One day, when he had gotten his promotion and free rein over his schedule, he would give in to his sister’s whims. Now, Baz had to pull his arm free.

Saying no to Eevee was never easy, courtesy of that wholesome puppy dog expression.

Her pout might have swayed his mind if it weren’t for the stubbornness gene they both had inherited.

“I’m sorry. But thank you for coming by. It means a lot.”

“I can’t change your mind?”

Baz offered an apologetic smile. She knew him better than that. With a sigh, Eevee hugged him goodbye.

The elevator doors dinged open on the thirty-eighth floor, home to the associate attorneys of Dunkeld Wilson.

The floral smell of floor cleaner colored the air.

The sun peered past the Tribune Tower through the floor-length windows and glass office walls, creating a catwalk on the polished marble floor.