Chapter 7
Seven
R uth awakened to the muffled hum of snowblowers and the scrape of shovels against concrete. She blinked against the soft morning light filtering through her bedroom window, the familiar sounds a small comfort. This was one of the reasons she had chosen her condominium complex: the maintenance department was exceptional, always ensuring the paths and parking lots were clear before residents stepped outside.
She pulled herself out of bed, steeling herself for a quiet but productive day. The offices of Ellison & Grant were closed to clients during the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day, but they remained open to the attorneys who wanted to catch up on their caseloads. Ruth had decided to go in and dedicate the day to planning her defense of Curtis Warren, the deputy mayor’s son.
The drive to the office was uneventful, the streets quiet under the thick blanket of snow. Ruth parked in her usual spot and made her way to the large glass doors of the sleek, modern building. The lobby was hushed.
“Good morning, Ms. Everhart,” greeted the head of security, John “Mac” McAllister. He was a former Marine with salt-and-pepper hair and a warm, fatherly demeanor that put everyone at ease. Dressed in his crisp navy-blue uniform, he stood at the security desk with his ever-watchful eyes scanning the monitors.
“Good morning, Mac,” Ruth replied with a small smile.
“Cold one today,” he said. “You’re the first one in. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Mac. Will do.”
Ruth made her way down the quiet hallway to her office. After starting her Keurig, she pulled out the Curtis Warren file and sat down to work. She sipped her coffee as she pored over the police report, diagramming the timeline of events. The report was tightly written, with little room for error or contradiction. Her mind sharpened as she delved into the details, her focus absolute.
“I thought I heard someone,” Matt Brandt’s voice sliced through the quiet.
Ruth’s pen slipped from her fingers, her heart jolting. She turned to see Matt leaning casually against the doorframe, the kind of grin on his face that always made her stomach twist—not in a good way.
“Matt,” she forced her voice to steady even as her skin prickled. “I’m busy. Do you need something?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he folded his arms and stayed exactly where he was, his broad frame blocking her only exit.
“Busy as always,” he said with mock exasperation, his tone dripping with condescension. “Thought I’d come by and see if you ever stop working long enough to enjoy life. What’d you do yesterday? I noticed you weren’t in.”
Ruth gripped the edge of her desk, using it to anchor herself. His intrusion was so brazen, so entitled. “I took the day off,” she said curtly. “I really need to get back to this case. Please let me do my work?”
But Matt didn’t budge. Instead, he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click that sent a jolt of fear through her chest. “You’re always so serious.” The teasing edge in his voice barely masked something more menacing. “Come on, Ruthie. You can’t keep turning me down. How about this—let me take you to the firm’s holiday party? It’ll be fun. We can get a hotel room. You need to loosen up.”
Ruth stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the carpet and almost falling back. She grabbed her coffee mug as a flimsy shield. She kept her voice firm, though her hands trembled. “Matt, I’ve told you before—I’m not interested in dating you. Please stop.”
“Stop?” Matt repeated, his smile fading into something sharper, his tone darker. “I’m just being nice. You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.”
Her breath caught, but she refused to back down. “You are not being nice. You are harassing me. I said no. I’m not going to the party with you. Besides, I already have a date.”
The words tumbled out before she could think them through, a desperate attempt to end the conversation. But instead of deterring him, her lie seemed to ignite something worse.
“A date?” he scoffed, stepping closer. His eyes narrowed, his voice laced with venom. “Don’t bullshit me, Ruthie. You don’t date. You’ve been here over two years, and all I’ve ever seen is you hiding behind your desk. What’s his name?”
“That’s none of your business,” she said, her voice shaking now. She clutched her mug tighter, her knuckles white. “And if you don’t leave my office, I’ll report you to Mr. Ellison and Mr. Grant.”
Matt’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. He stepped closer, leaning over her desk, his presence oppressive. “Go ahead,” he hissed. “See how far that gets you. You think either of them cares about some junior attorney’s whining? You’re not special, Ruth. You’re replaceable. But me?” He smirked, straightening up. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m a partner. The firm will not bear that kind of scrutiny, canceling a partnership. Fair warning, Miss Everhart, if this obstinance continues, I’ll need to put you on a tight leash. I like to give the lawyers I’m responsible for some autonomy, but…well, we may require daily meetings in my office.”
She froze, her body rigid with fear as he stared her down. Finally, with a mocking laugh, he backed toward the door. “I’ll see you at the party, Ruthie,” he said, his voice dripping with threat. “Better bring that ‘date’ of yours.”
The door shut behind him, but the air in her office felt suffocating. Ruth stood motionless, the cup dropping from her hand, her breaths coming fast and shallow, her heart pounding as if she’d just run a marathon.
She gripped the edge of her desk, her nails pressing into the wood. Matt’s presence lingered like a dark cloud, refusing to dissipate. Her mind raced with a torrent of emotions—fear, anger, helplessness. She hated him. She hated herself for letting him intimidate her.
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. Not here. Not now. The mantra cycled in her head as she paced her office, every step punctuated by the tremor in her hands.
The holiday party. She had lied to Matt, told him she had a date, but now the panic swelled. She had no such date. Her dress from Rent the Runway would arrive tomorrow, but what about a date? Is there such a thing as rent-a-date? she thought bitterly.
A sharp laugh escaped her lips, but it felt jagged and out of place. Her mind swung back to Matt. Was she his only target? Had he cornered other women the same way? Her stomach churned. She needed to leave. Now.
Ruth slammed the Curtis Warren file closed with trembling hands and shoved it into her bag. Get out of here, Ruth. Just get out. She grabbed her coat, locked her office, and kept her eyes trained on her surroundings as she walked briskly to the garage. The cold echo of her heels against concrete mirrored her pounding heart. She’d forgotten to change into her boots. She exhaled with relief when she saw Matt’s obnoxious yellow Hummer was gone.
Once inside her SUV, she locked the doors, the sound of the metallic click like a lifeline. She sat still, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly, they ached. The fear inside her felt overwhelming, clawing at her from every direction.
She needed help. Someone who would listen. Someone who would take her seriously. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out her phone and dialed.
“Brad?” she asked, her voice shaky but resolute. “I need to ask you something. Can I stop by?”
“Of course,” he replied in his usual calm and steady tone. “I’m in my office.”
Ruth exhaled deeply, a small measure of relief washing over her. She wasn’t going to let Matt scare her into silence. Not anymore.
The ten-minute drive to Brad’s office felt longer than usual, her mind playing cruel tricks. Every shadow seemed like it might harbor Matt, lurking, watching. When she finally arrived, relief washed over her like a wave. But as she stepped inside, her breath caught again.
Brad wasn’t alone. Alex and Noah were there, deep in conversation. Alex looked up first. Then Noah, whose stoic demeanor unnerved her. They all turned their attention to her, their expressions shifting from curiosity to concern.
“Ruth?” Alex’s voice was soft, but there was an edge of alarm. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, hesitating. How could she even begin to explain? But Brad’s steady gaze secured her, and before she knew it, the words spilled out. Halting at first but then pouring forth—the latest suffocating encounter with Matt, the lies she had told to fend him off, the paralyzing fear of retaliation.
When she finished, silence hung in the room. The men exchanged looks that spoke volumes. Ruth shrank under their scrutiny, but Alex spoke first.
“You can’t keep this to yourself,” he said firmly, though not unkindly. “You have to report him.”
Ruth shook her head vehemently. “You don’t understand. He’s a junior partner. If I go to the boss without proof—” Her voice broke, and she looked away. “I’ll be the one who pays for it.”
Brad leaned forward, his tone measured but resolute. “Ruth, we understand. But letting him get away with this? It’s not an option. If you won’t report him yet, we need to get some proof.”
* * *
Noah had been quiet, leaning back in his chair, his sharp eyes never leaving her. Now he spoke, his voice calm but laced with a determined edge. “He’s a predator. He’ll act again. We’ll figure something out. But first, you’ve got that party to deal with, right?”
Ruth nodded, suddenly remembering her flimsy lie. “Yeah. And… I said I had a date.”
Brad and Alex both turned their heads toward Noah, almost in unison. The investigator blinked, then smirked.
“You’re volunteering me?” he asked dryly.
“Who else?” Alex shot back with a grin.
Ruth’s cheeks flushed. “You don’t have to?—”
Noah cut her off, his tone light but with a teasing edge, “It’s fine. Black tie, right?” When she nodded, he leaned back, crossing his arms. “I’ve got a tux. Worked undercover in one a few years ago.”
Ruth could only nod.
Noah, however, let his thoughts stray for a moment, imagining her in a formal dress—then imagining her without it. He shook his head imperceptibly, banishing the image. Focus, man. This isn’t the time.
Sensing her nerves, he softened his tone. “Relax, Ruth. We’ll make it work. You’re not alone in this.”
Her breathing slowed. “Thank you all.” She clutched her keys tightly, glancing at the three men.
“I’ll follow you home.” Noah stood.
“I’m fine, really. I don’t think he’s stupid enough to follow me home.”
Noah tilted his head, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. “Humor me, Ruth. It’s not about him being stupid. It’s about me being careful.”
She sighed but nodded, her shoulders sagging.
He added, “Besides, I’ve got to head out after this. Meeting a confidential informant. So, I’ll be in the neighborhood.”
* * *
They left Brad’s office, Noah walking her to her SUV before following her in his unassuming department-issued sedan. Ruth was surprised at how much comfort she felt knowing he was behind her, his presence a silent reassurance.
When they reached the condominium complex, Noah stepped out and walked her up the front steps, his sharp eyes scanning the quiet suburban street. “Do you always wear heels in the snow?” He stared at her feet.
“Um, I ran out of my office. I forgot to change back into my boots.” She sniffed.
He stopped her at the door. “Give me a minute.”
Before Ruth could protest, Noah took her keys, unlocked the door and stepped inside, methodically checking the condominium. Ruth watched him move, his every motion smooth and purposeful, like a man who had done this countless times. His presence filled her home in a way that was oddly comforting.
When he returned to the entryway, he nodded. “All clear.”
Ruth exhaled, relieved and a little embarrassed at how safe he made her feel. As she stepped closer, she hesitated, then leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm under her lips, and she caught a faint trace of his cologne—woodsy with a hint of spice, like cedar and sandalwood mingled with something darker, deeper. It lingered in the air between them, a subtle reminder of his strength and mystery.
“Thank you,” she said softly, stepping back.
Noah’s expression remained calm, but his eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite name. “Anytime.” He tipped his head slightly before heading back to his car.