King of Justice: A Small Town Romance (Billionaire Kings of New York Book 2)

1. Stuck

one

“Sof, you’re still here!” my colleague Zoey remarked with a high pitch as she stepped out of her meeting. How observant.

I took my eyes off the screen and saw that she was looking at me like I was naked or something. I couldn’t help but titter. “Well, I need to send the final version to Paddelton Minsk before they go on their break and forget who we are.” Pointing at the meeting room, I shrugged. “And Mr. Nichols is still in there, too.” I watched our other colleagues leave, one by one, greeting us as they walked out the door.

“With who?” She put her hand on her waist and turned to look outside through the closed widow. “There was a stormwarning? You guys should hurry before you get stuck here all weekend.”

I shrugged, turning my eyes back to the document I was editing. “It couldn’t wait. You can’t make this up. He’s finally in there with Nathan Wright. Looks like he’s gonna handle the McFadden case pro bono, after all.” I glanced at her. “Sweet, huh?”

Gathering her things, she put on her coat. “Sweet?” She scoffed. “I heard he’s legit hot.”

“That’s all you got from what I said?” I giggled, shaking my head. “Feel free to take a peek through the door,” I joked, although I wouldn’t put it past her.

“Nah.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her laptop case. “I’d rather go home to Billy. We’re spending Christmas with his parents this time.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve never met them, and when I do, it’s for a whole week. Pray for me!”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Right, you don’t do Jesus.” She waved a hand at me. “I don’t know why they bother giving you a break on his birthday.”

I forged my best puppy dog eyes. “Because I never get to see my parents?”

“You’d better run then!” She approached the door.

Sighing, I shook my head. “I should be at JFK at seven o’clock. I’m all packed and ready.”

“Aww, Paris.” She tilted her head, hugging her laptop case tighter. “Say hi to Mama and Papa for me. And yummy Silvain.”

“Will do! Merry Christmas, babe. It’s gonna be fun.”

Opening the door, she threw her hand in the air. “Merry Christmas. Zoey… out!”

Looking at the time, I figured I had an hour tops to leave if I wanted to catch the flight for which my parents had paid for. Every year since they had retired and bought their apartment in Paris, I’d been visiting them every Christmas on their buck. And every single time, I’d pushed my luck by leaving the office awfully late.

“No rest for the wicked,” I mumbled to myself as I scrolled down to the next page of the document I had typed up. It was a case for one of the independent artists against a famous clothing chain. They had used one of his graffiti designs on their t-shirts—and sold out in a week—without permission or even offering him a cut of the profits.

Crazy? It happens every day in our world.

That was why I absolutely loved working for Creators’ Rights—this small NGO helping struggling artists get free legal advice for their work. Although I wasn’t a lawyer, I managed to use my writing skills for the greater good. I was hoping that one day, I may be able to find a decent publisher who would agree to put my creative work out there.

But Sof… shouldn’t you finish that novel first?

Shaking off the thought, Zoey’s advice from earlier found its way into my head instead. Launching the internet browser, I punched in the flight information and checked if it was still on. The airline website said that it should leave on time. My gaze then traveled to the meeting room door.

That lawyer drove himself here from New York.

The sole heir and rightful owner of The Wright Law Firm was known to take on plenty of pro bono cases as a way to give back, just like his father had. Despite my general contempt toward lawyers, I knew I could learn to respect this one. He’d never taken any of our cases until my boss, Mr. Nichols, met him at a benefit and introduced himself, opening a new support channel for our less fortunate friends in the creative arts.

Tearing through the silence, my landline started ringing, and the little digital screen showed that the call was coming from the meeting room. Right. We were the only ones left in the office. I pressed the speaker button. “Hello?”

“Ms. Jones,” Mr. Nichols said, “Would you please join us with your laptop?”

“Uh—Sure. Right away.”

I hit the ‘save’ button on my document and stood up, taking the device with me as I walked there. After knocking on the door, I opened it and stepped inside.

The first face that met my eyes was Nathan Wright’s as he sat in the opposite end of the room facing me. His perfect lips smiled as his calm blue eyes greeted me, while his hand rested on the table. I didn’t know why my eyes lingered on his fingernails as I walked inside.

“Mr. Wright, this is Sophie Jones, our writer.” Mr. Nichols introduced me. “Thanks to her, we have the case summed up chronologically and in clear-cut terms.”

“Hello.” I nodded and sat between them, separated from Wright by a vacant chair.

“Mr. Wright has agreed to take on the McFadden case,” my boss explained.

I turned to Wright, smiling. “That’s great. Ryan will be psyched to hear about this.”

“I’ve briefed him, but I’d like you two to go over the details in the file you have.” Mr. Nichols stood up, buttoning his blazer and shaking hands with our guest. “I’m forced to go… catch a meeting in Garrison. Would you please lock up for me?”

“Sure.” I quickly nodded.

“Well.” He held open the door. “Merry Christmas.”

As we both politely responded, I didn’t hear my own voice. Instead, Nathan Wright’s invaded my ears. It was steady and soothing, just like his eyes. Strange. I wondered if he sounded this cool in a courtroom, or if that was what helped him win every single one of them.

Mr. Nichols closed the door behind him, and I stood up, leaning over to plug my laptop into the projector. I felt his eyes on me, burning deliberate holes in every inch of my side as I faced great difficulty in focusing on the simple task. Was he evaluating the vintage dress I’d bought from Rue de Rivoli many years ago? It wasn’t a fancy Italian brand like his suit, and perhaps he wondered how much it cost. I wanted to say, ‘Four euros,’ but instead, I offered without looking, “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m good, thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Do you need help with that?”

“I’m good,” I sternly said, and the screen was finally mirrored on the white wall across. Sitting back down, I took a deep, silent breath. “So, two years ago, Ryan McFadden shared his original demo with Jacob Buzz of Pinocchio Records, with hopes of brokering a deal…”

I talked and talked… and he nodded, listened, and barely had any questions at all.

Formally and professionally, we ended our meeting with me sharing my documents with him via email.

As I stood up and unplugged the devices, I waited for him to stand. “So, um… any questions?” I asked, hoping he would get the message that he should leave already.

His eyebrows were furrowed as he focused on something on his phone, then mindlessly shook his head. “Thanks. You did great. Uh—I just… really have to get this.”

“Of course.” What was he thinking? Didn’t he know a storm was headed our way?

Leaving him alone, I closed the door behind me and froze in place at the sight that shocked my eyes. The entire floor was a lot darker than it had been when I had left it an hour ago. Through the window, I could see the outside world, nearly black as rain and hail hit the glass with noise that wasn’t reaching us inside.

“Oh, shit!” I breathed as I ran to my desk, opening my laptop and launching the website with the flight information.

Canceled.

Delayed.

Delayed.

Canceled.

And mine... Canceled.

“Fuck!” Allowing gravity to take hold, I let my ass smack down on the chair. I then quickly grabbed my phone. There was still service, so I launched the family group chat and started typing…

All?! I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the storm has started earlier than it should have! Je suis vraiment désolé, but my flight was canceled, you guys.

I followed with a broken heart emoji.

Merde! My brother Silvain replied. Maybe you can find another one later?

Yeah, that’s the plan. I’ll keep you posted. But if you can’t reach me in the coming hours, don’t worry. Signals die around here sometimes, you know.

Just be careful, d”accord?

D”accord. à bient?t!

Not a good start.

I looked at the door, wondering what the hell was taking so long. Did Mr. Wright realize that while he drove his ultra-safe vehicle, I had no way of getting home in this weather? How inconsiderate. I wanted to go in there and politely ask him to leave… or perhaps I could just ask him for a ride home. Not a bad idea.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to concentrate on the document from before. If I wasn’t leaving any time soon, I might as well get some work done.

A few minutes later, the door cracked open, and he came out. I hadn’t noticed before, but it was quite obvious under that suit that he heavily exercised. Yummy.

“Oh my God,” he breathlessly said, while his eyes were fixated on the window.

“Yup.” I pressed my lips together and slowly nodded.

“Wh—Why didn’t you say something?”

I shrugged. “It was already pouring when I came out. What kind of car do you have?”

Boyishly reaching with his hand to the hairs on the back of his neck, he slightly squinted. “I don’t think… it matters… anymore?”

What?

Swiftly, I shot up standing and rushed toward the window, my eyes about to pop as I saw the snow quickly piling up outside. “Jesus, no!” I moaned.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” his voice came calmly from behind me.

I turned around, my mouth agape as I wrung my hands. “I’m… sorry?”

His phone began to ring, and he looked down at it and frowned, lifting up his hand. “I—It’s okay. Sorry. Excuse me.” He marched back into the meeting room and closed the door behind him.

Just like that, I was snowed in with a man I’d just met—a lawyer, no less.

Fun.

Knowing that it might only be a matter of time before the power went out, I pulled out my phone charger and plugged in the device. I followed with the laptop, before racing over to the kitchenette. There, I filled up the kettle with water and turned it on. I then opened one of the two cabinets overhead, taking out the big water thermos. When the water came to a boil, I poured it in and tightly secured the lid.

“Okay,” I sighed, walking back out. “Snowed-in night it is.”

Passing the meeting room door, I heard him seethe, “What part of I’m stuck here do you not understand?”

“Sheesh!” I chuckled, making my way around my desk back into the chair. It was certainly colder than when I’d come in this morning, so I pulled my jacket off the back of the seat and wrapped it around my shoulders.

As my eyes regained their focus on the document before me, I heard Wright say, “Yeah, too bad to be you right now. Wow!”

Stretching my lips in a non-smile, I glared at my screen, thinking of all the fun I wasn’t going to have with this one.