The Perfect Secret

Enjoy this exclusive excerpt of THE PERFECT DECEPTION

Chapter One

After reading the email from his father, Adam dropped his head in his hands and massaged his temples. Freezing rain pattered against the window of his office, the sound of it making his head pound. Another deadline missed? This made the third time that a case he was working on was tanked due to misfiling a motion or missing a deadline. How the hell had this happened? His stomach turned at the tone of his father’s email. He had to fix this. Now. As he walked the long hallway to his father’s corner office, he glanced at his friends and co-workers out of the corner of his eye. None of them seemed to have this problem, or did they? Outside his father’s office, he paused to draw a slow, steady breath. He hadn’t missed the deadline. His paperwork was complete. It wasn’t his fault. His father would have to believe him.

With a nod to his father’s secretary, Diane, he knocked on the cherry wood door. He heard a muffled “come in,” and he entered. His father didn’t look up, so Adam sat in the black leather executive side chair across from his father’s massive mahogany desk, crossed his arms, and waited to be acknowledged while staring at his father’s shock of thick, white hair. He’d spent countless hours of his life staring at that proud head. The scratch of the fountain pen on the lined legal pad grated against his eardrums, but he refrained from interrupting him, even if he suspected the writing was a stalling tactic. It usually was. Noah Mandel was the best corporate lawyer in the state of New Jersey, and had forged his reputation carefully. Adam knew better than to mess with him.

From the time Adam was seven years old and his mother walked out, his father had made it clear that work came above all else. When Noah’s wife left, she’d taken whatever affection he’d possessed. Adam learned early on that attachments to people, even those related to him, could be fleeting and only caused pain. Maintain control, protect your reputation and never let anyone get too close.

Finally, his father laid his pen on the desk and fixed his hawk-like gaze on his son. That stare still made Adam flinch, even at twenty-nine years old, but he resisted the urge and maintained his outwardly smooth fa?ade. His father hated signs of weakness, perceived or otherwise. The two men remained silent, until his father spoke.

“We have a problem.”

“We?” Adam asked.

“Don’t get cocky.”

“I didn’t miss the deadline.”

Another silence greeted that statement. “That’s what you said last time, and the time before that.” His father slid the letter from the court across his desk. “This letter says otherwise.”

Adam frowned as he skimmed the letter. His gut tightened. The deadline to file the responsive pleading had been last Monday at midnight. He’d given his paralegal, Ashley, all the material she needed to file, had seen it in her possession and left the office. But this letter from the adversary stated the court had never received it. Therefore, their adversary was filing a default, requesting the court to issue an order that they won the case. In other words, Adam’s client lost. “I have no idea what happened, Dad. I gave her the motion and told her to file it. Did anyone ask her about it?”

“Yes, Ashley says you never gave her the final documentation.”

“That’s insane. I gave her everything she needed in a manila envelope for her to mail.”

“Did you see her mail it?”

“No, I left to go out with some people from work.”

“So you were drinking.” His father’s eyebrows raised in disapproval.

“I had two beers. I wasn’t drunk. I never have more than that when we go out. And that was after I gave her the materials.” His reputation was too important to him, and too essential for his career, to ever lose control. Two beers with co-workers was his max.

“I’m not accusing you of drinking on the job. No one has ever smelled alcohol on your breath.”

Adam refrained from cringing at the comment.

“But your eagerness to go out and party made you sloppy. Again.”

One time. He’d rushed through an assignment for a case one time two years ago and his father never let him forget about it. He’d been meticulous since then, but his father didn’t care. “No, Dad, I wasn’t sloppy. I made sure everything was in order before I left.”

“So what happened?” His father leaned forward, his gaze piercing.

Adam gripped the armrests until his fingers ached. “I have no idea.” Why wasn’t his father interrogating Ashley?

“So you don’t remember? Now you’re blacking out when you drink?” His father glared at him. “I thought you said you only had two beers.”

“I did. Why isn’t Ashley here being questioned?”

“Because I’ve already talked to her and she swears you never gave her anything to file. Between missing this deadline on the motion, messing up the deadline for filing that initial complaint on the Bradley case, and your sloppiness two years ago, you’re proving that your head isn’t in this game.”

“Dad, the Hyde case was two years ago and the Bradley case was a misunderstanding.” The excuse sounded lame to his ears, but he wasn’t going to give away any more information. Not until he figured out why his cases were suddenly being called into question. “I’ve been on top of things since then, I swear. Maybe something is fishy with Ashley. She’s been acting odd around me lately. We should be looking into her and why she’s fabricating this story.”

“I didn’t raise a son to slough off blame to someone else. This firm has our name on it. That means the buck stops with me. And you. It’s dishonorable to try to blame someone else for your mistakes. Do you have proof that you gave her the motion? You didn’t have one with the Bradley case, didn’t you learn your lesson this time? And why, if you were so concerned about doing your job correctly, would you have left before the filing was completed? You don’t need me to answer that question for you, do you?”

Adam flexed his fingers as he waited for the barrage of questions to stop. “I’m sure there was someone around who saw me give her the file, Dad. As for leaving before she finished filing, since when do I have to micromanage a paralegal?”

His father held up a hand. “Adam, that’s enough. Our name is on the door. This is my firm. You have a standard to live up to, one that you are failing at, at the moment. I’m not going to warn you again.”

Adam’s eyelid twitched, and he rose and walked toward the door.

“Oh, and Adam? I know you’re working toward that promotion to junior partner, but with this lingering over your head…”

Adam gripped the doorknob, willing his tongue to listen to his brain and remain silent. No one who argued with his father ever won.

Dina pulled her car out onto the busy Morristown street, her latest pile of library books on the seat beside her. The best part of being a librarian was her access to books—thousands and thousands of vellum-smelling, page-crackling books. She smiled as she came to a traffic light. Shabbat services tonight followed by a weekend of reading. It was just what she wanted to do on the coldest weekend of the year.

As she left the town proper and headed into the outskirts, she drove over one of the many huge potholes the county had yet to fix. Her car continued to bump after she’d passed it and she pulled over onto the shoulder. A freezing drizzle was falling and she hugged her coat tighter around her. Great, just what my frizzy hair needs, she thought as she bent down to look at the tire. Flat.

She popped the trunk and rooted around for the jack. With her warning lights flashing, she positioned the jack behind the rear wheel and began pumping, watching the car rise. She rubbed her chilled hands together before trying to remove the spare from its compartment. Headlights lit her view of her trunk and she turned as a car pulled up behind her. A man got out of the car and she fingered her cellphone in her pocket. At rush hour, there were plenty of other cars on the road, but she backed up a little and reached for a crowbar, also in the trunk.

“You look like you could use some help,” the man said as he approached. He wore a wool overcoat, which flapped open, revealing a dark suit and a pressed blue shirt. His hands were stuffed in his pockets. The icy drizzle speckled his shoulders and his tawny hair with a silver halo. Moss green eyes glowed in the dim light from the passing cars. He reminded her of a mountain lion.

“Nope, I’m fine, thanks.”

“Are you sure? It’s freezing out here. I can have you back on the road in a few minutes.” He was a head taller than she was, and he smelled like cloves. Despite his unneeded assistance, Dina had to fight the warm feeling of home his smell suggested.

“Fifty percent of women know how to change their tires, and I’m one of them.” Dina picked up the crow bar, preparing to change the tire herself.

He backed away, hands up, the vein in his neck pulsing. “I was just trying to help. Never mind. I seriously cannot win with women,” he muttered.

She swallowed. Maybe she’d been too harsh. Before she could soften her tone, or ask him what he was talking about, a police car pulled up and rolled down the driver side window. “Ma’am, is everything okay? Sir, is there a problem?”

“I’m fine, but thanks. It’s just a flat,” she said to the officer.

“Sir?”

He grinned. “Nothing, officer, I was just offering to help her change her tire.”

The officer nodded, but turned to Dina anyway. “Ma’am, do you need assistance?”

“I’m almost done.” Why did no one believe she could do this?

“Are you sure?”

“Officer, I really am fine and he was just trying to help me.”

The officer scanned the other man. “What’s your name?”

“Adam Mandel.” He stood up straighter, thrusting his shoulders back.

“Ma’am?”

“Dina Jacobs.”

He exited his car and approached them. “Can I see some ID?”

The man named Adam tipped his head, before digging his ID out of an expensive-looking leather wallet and handing it to the officer. Dina gave hers as well. The officer scanned them both before returning them. “Okay, I’m just going to wait in my patrol car until you two get on your way.” He pulled up past her car and waited.

Dina looked at the Good Samaritan and felt bad for him. Chances were he hadn’t had any other motive than to help her, and now he was being eyed suspiciously by the cop. He strode back to his sports car, and she heaved a sigh. “Wait!” she called out.

She jogged toward him, trying not to slip on the icy pavement. “I didn’t mean to get you in any trouble. I think I over-reacted. I appreciate your trying to help me.”

His stance relaxed and he smiled, warming her despite the cold weather. “I didn’t mean to come on too strong, honestly. Last chance if you want me to help you with the tire, though. You look cold.”

She was, even if his green-eyed gaze acted like a heat ray. “That would be great.”

He handed her his keys. “Sit in my car and get warm. You can turn on the music if you want. I’ll be done in a jiffy.”

She climbed into his BMW and turned the ignition key. The motor purred. Heat blasted from the vents and she sighed in delight as she sank into the butter-soft leather seat. The dashboard gleamed, looking like something you’d see in a fighter jet. She had no idea where the controls were even if she wanted to turn on the radio. Five minutes later, he began walking toward her, so she got out of the car.

“All fixed,” he said.

“I really appreciate your helping me out. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

He hesitated. “Nah,” he said, “I’m good.”

“Are you sure? You look pretty cold…and wet. It’s the least I can do.”

He rolled his shoulders, the wool of his overcoat glistening from the moisture. “Follow me to the diner?”

She nodded and waved to the cop, who pulled out onto the road behind them. As she drove, she realized she’d never be home in time for Shabbat services. Oh well. She was thanking him for a mitzvah. There were worse reasons to miss temple.

He pulled his Beamer into an empty spot, leaving the one closest to the door and the light, for…dammit, he didn’t remember her name. Unlike his lack of memory about Ashley, this memory lapse could be fixed. He shook his head, trying to dispel the thought. Well, whatever her name was, she seemed sweet enough and she shouldn’t have to walk through a dark parking lot alone. He took the stairs two at a time and waited for her in the foyer, staring at the team pictures on the walls and the multicolored stacks of business cards in the rack. A moment later, her nondescript-looking car pulled into the spot he’d left for her and she joined him.

“Hey, I just realized, I don’t remember your name,” he said. He hid his embarrassment with a smile.

Her round face reddened, but she laughed. It was a beautiful laugh. “It’s Dina Jacobs.” She held her hand out and he clasped it, finding it softer and smaller than he’d expected.

“Hello, Dina Jacobs. I’m Adam Mandel.”

She pulled her hand away and clasped both of them together in front of her. “I know. Shall we sit down?”

She was nervous, he thought, as he followed her and the hostess to their booth next to the window. His neck heated. Was she always like this or was it in reaction to him? Did his anger at his father spill over to his actions with her? As he slid into the booth, he made a concerted effort to relax his muscles and to forget about the accusation—at least for now.

Their booth overlooked the parking lot and the highway, so it didn’t provide much of a view. The faux-leather menus were huge with page after vinyl page of everything you could imagine. It was an indecisive person’s hell. Luckily he was just having coffee.

“You know what you’re ordering already?” Her menu was open, and she was scanning each page, as if she’d never seen such a plethora of food before.

“You invited me for coffee.”

She snorted, which he somehow found refreshing and adorable. “Oh, please. It’s dinnertime. You can’t possibly tell me you’re not hungry.”

Well, when she put it that way. He studied the burger section.

“So, other than rescuing women on the side of the road, and almost being arrested by a cop, what do you do?”

“I’m a corporate attorney, working in Morristown.”

“I’m a librarian at the main library in town.”

If anyone fit the stereotype, it was Dina. Matching pink sweater set, frizzy black hair pulled back with combs—all she needed were reading glasses hanging around her neck. But she wasn’t old enough for those. She looked around his age.

“Did you always want to be a librarian?”

“I’ve always been more comfortable in the imaginary worlds created by books, so yes, I did. I suppose you don’t get to read books much.”

“Why would you assume that?” He worked hard to maintain his image. Between his designer suits, well-groomed appearance, and his JD degree, the last thing anyone would ever mistake him for was an idiot…

~ excerpt from THE PERFECT DECEPTION, Book 3 in THE PERFECT MATCH Series, copyright 2024 by Jennifer Wilck ~