Chapter 3
Gemma plopped onto the leather couch in her chambers feeling like a wet towel that had been wrung out.
The car bombing and Royce’s kidnapping had the courthouse turned on it’s head even though he worked in a different building—with heightened security and the gossip mill buzzing to a nearly audible hum.
She hadn’t learned anything new about the incident, and she certainly hadn’t expected the majority of the gossip to be about her.
It was like the past eight years hadn’t happened, and she was right back there, Anthony Royce’s mistress who’d slept her way to the top.
A knock on the door to her chambers and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Come in.”
A woman with short black hair pushed into the room, her best friend, April. They’d been roommates in college and had remained close ever since. “I got out of work as early as I could, sweetie.”
“Did we have plans?” asked Gemma, racking her brain.
“No, I just figured you’d appreciate a friendly face. I think you need a drink.”
“I don’t want a drink.”
“Your ex-lover’s been kidnapped and his wife’s been killed by a bomb. Honey, if anyone needs a drink, you do.”
Gemma shivered at the thought of Barbara Royce’s fiery death. “She didn’t deserve to die like that. She didn’t deserve any of it.”
“This has nothing to do with you and Royce. Don’t go there.”
“How can I not?”
“Because you didn’t know he was married! You’re not a psychic, for God’s sake. He lied to you. It’s been eight years. Stop blaming yourself.”
“Do you think she stopped blaming me?”
“We’re going out for drinks. Now.”
“No.”
“I’m not asking, I’m telling.”
“I have work to do, even if I’m not in court.”
“And you’re really able to get it done today? Like this? You look like shit. Clearly your mind is other places, so take it home with you if you need to, but get the hell out of this office and away from the people who are looking at you sideways.”
Not again.
Gemma’s shoulders dropped. “You noticed that, too.”
“Hell yes. Your secretary was tripping over her tongue talking about you. Get your purse.”
She swiped at her eyes, unaware she’d been crying. She didn’t feel like going out. She felt like going home and sobbing in a quiet, dark room. “I know you’re trying to help, but I just want to go home.”
“I know you. You’re going to beat yourself up until your soul is black and blue, then you’re going to stay up all night worrying about Royce.”
“Which is exactly what I should be doing right now.”
April took her by the elbow. “Well, too bad, because you’re coming with me.”
Gemma let herself be dragged from her chambers, past her secretary who yes—damn it—had an all-knowing look on her face. The rumors had nearly derailed Gemma’s career eight years earlier, rumors that were mostly true.
The only part that was pure fiction was the notion that the affair had gotten her the judicial nomination. That wasn’t true at all.
But it sure as hell looked true.
She’d been a hair’s breadth away from moving to a new town and starting over when things started to improve, then one day the rumors were gone.
Well, now they’re making a comeback.
She sighed heavily, even as she knew she was grateful for her friend’s pushy intervention. “Okay. We’ll go out. But I don’t want to go to a dance club.”
“Fine. We’ll go to that bar you like on Peachtree.”