Chapter 2
risks none taken
Jaime Lachlan didn’t take risks. She didn’t play.
Her life comprised work and her almost unnatural (to others) enjoyment of her solitude.
She neither needed nor wanted other people in her life, as they offered nothing but distractions and complications.
Not to mention, most friendships ended in disappointment, so why would she waste her time?
As such, what she said next made no sense and went against what her head—so much smarter than the rest of her—begged her to do.
“Care for another glass? My treat—consider it an apology of sorts.”
Olivia smiled. “Thank you.”
Jaime signaled for the server to refill their drinks. “I’d also like an order of French fries, please.”
“They’re delicious.”
“I know.” Jaime emptied her glass, the flavor of dark berries lingering on her tongue.
“You’ve been here before?” Olivia asked.
“Several times. In fact, this place is the reason I agreed to attend the conference.”
Olivia gazed at her as if expecting Jaime to proclaim she was joking, and when she didn’t, Olivia blinked furiously, then laughed. “You’re serious.”
“I rarely am anything else.”
Olivia’s gaze met hers again, approachable once more, now that her earlier glare had smoothed out.
As she talked to Olivia, her heart often seemed lodged in her throat, while she stifled the urge to snatch a fry off the woman’s plate—a far more appropriate impulse than the tension that had been there ever since she first crossed paths with the obnoxiously attractive attorney.
Perfectly shaped eyebrows topped Olivia’s clear green eyes.
She often wore her brown hair in an elaborate up-do, though it had come loose a bit this evening.
Olivia usually dressed conservatively, in tight pencil skirts with blouses and blazers. Tonight, she wore a snugly fitting dark blue dress, highlighting her athletic figure, which distracted Jaime more than it should.
Still, the nerve of the woman to accuse Jaime of being part of the problem while she was in the habit of defending the very people she’d just criticized.
To be fair, Olivia had only meant judges in general, while Jaime had outright attacked her.
God, she shouldn’t have had that second glass of chardonnay earlier.
Alcohol and exhaustion never mixed well.
Worse, it sometimes loosened her tongue and made her reckless; combative even.
“I believe it,” Olivia finally said, leaning back in her chair.
Jaime inhaled sharply. Olivia had contemplated her as something other than a judge she preferred to avoid.
She could hardly harbor the same fascination Jaime had nurtured since she first spied Olivia five years ago at an alumni event an old mentor had insisted she attend.
Apparently, they’d gone to the same law school, Olivia, eight years her junior.
Jaime had just been appointed a judge at forty-one, much like she’d always planned, whereas Olivia had recently joined Farkas, Ariete & Kemeny as their newest henchman.
Henchwoman? Was there even a female version of the term?
Jaime remembered talking to someone (she couldn’t even recall who) when she noticed a striking woman in a long, black dress, her brown hair pulled up in an artful French twist. The lighting and her makeup gave her an ethereal quality.
Olivia had captivated Jaime, so much so that she’d lost track of her companion’s words.
She hadn’t expected to see Olivia again, least of all in her courtroom, defending one of Farkas, Ariete & Kemeny’s clients.
No, it wasn’t Olivia’s profession that surprised her—it was the clients she defended, or rather, her affiliation with that particular law firm, that had sparked Jaime’s disappointment.
Since then, they’d crossed paths several times, but never outside their official capacity.
And yet, Jaime buzzed whenever Olivia was nearby, and she hated it, though a part of her also reveled in the sensation.
When she’d looked up earlier, still deep in thought, her breath had caught in her throat upon gazing at Olivia, taking in her enticing features—big eyes, high cheekbones you could cut yourself on, and full lips.
“For the record, and also at the risk of…violating our truce, but there are attorneys who do pro bono work,” Olivia said.
Yes, back to safer shores. “To ease their guilty conscience, yes. There might also be a tax benefit for law firms.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes again, and Jaime chastised herself for finding the expression appealing.
“I’m told it’s to help the community.”
Jaime snorted. “You’re told? I take it you’re not among the attorneys offering pro bono work?”
“No.”
Jaime didn’t have a reply, so a moment of taut stillness stretched between them.
Olivia sighed. “Besides, you understand why banks can’t lend money to people with bad or no credit history, yet you act like you don’t grasp why big law firms operate the way they do.”
“Oh, I fully understand both. I’m not…judging, at least not logically. It stands to reason, doesn’t it? It’s good and smart business, but it offends my sense and longing for fairness. Equality, no? You mentioned it earlier.”
“Yes, and I said it was unattainable.”
The server set down two new glasses filled with deep red liquid, followed by a plate of fries.
“Thank you.” She dug in, realizing how hungry she was.
She let out a low moan at the explosion of flavors on her tongue.
Finsternis truly made the best fries—and escaping the vast, soulless conference rooms had been a relief, even if she'd never foreseen the current complication.
Jaime raised her head to comment on the fries when all words deserted her at the dazed expression on Olivia’s face, at the heat in her eyes.
OK, so this is not just me. Immaterial, but it still felt invigorating.
Exciting, almost. Too bad Jaime didn’t do exciting—though that didn’t stop the heat from creeping into her cheeks. “Shouldn’t we try, though?”
“Like with impartiality?”
Jaime nodded.
“What if it’s all an illusion? Does it still matter?” Olivia took a sip of her wine, and Jaime’s gaze followed the movement of her throat.
“Yes, of course,” Jaime rasped.
“Why?” Olivia’s voice rang genuine, her eyes soft with a sincerity that caught Jaime off guard.
“Because there are real consequences. People’s lives are on the line. Even if equality remains unachievable, even if there’s no objective reality, we still have to live in this world, and people get hurt every day.”
“You can’t prevent that.”
“No.” Jaime worried her lower lip, noticing how Olivia’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “But it doesn’t mean we have to accept it or give up.”
“You’ll lose.”
Jaime held Olivia’s gaze, startled by the hard tone, the closed-off, determined expression staring back at her.
“Sometimes, yes.”
Olivia canted her head. “So, you’d fight a fight you know you’ll never win?”
“If it’s the right one, yes.”
“But who decides that?” Olivia asked.
“The right fight is always the one resulting in the least harm and the greatest benefit for the most people.”
Olivia shook her head as an unfathomable smile spread across her lips.
“What?”
“Nothing. I just recalled a game I used to play as a teen. A friend had bought a book filled with all kinds of ‘Would you rather?’ questions. Ethical and moral conundrums. We’d go over them and answer.”
“Am I right to assume your answers tended to affirm your last name?”
“You’re assuming it was always Gray.”
Jaime’s eyebrows rose as her gaze dropped to Olivia’s left hand.
“Not all married couples wear rings.”
“You’re married?” For a second, Jaime wondered if the fries she was eating had gone bad. Could fries even go bad? Rancid, yes, but bad? Although rancid was bad, and—
“No. I’m a born Gray.”
Jaime clenched her jaw, dismissing the urge to throttle Olivia. “So?”
“Perhaps.”
“Again, so?”
Olivia gave her a quizzical look. “Oh, you mean the questions?”
Jaime dipped her head.
“Well, one question in particular came to mind when you mentioned a fight worth fighting. If you have the power to prevent a car crash killing two people, one of them your best friend, or a plane crash killing 300 strangers, which one do you choose?”
“The plane,” Jaime answered immediately.
Olivia’s eyes widened.
“What?”
“I’ve never met anyone who gave that answer, mind you, I only played the game as a teenager.”
Jaime wasn’t sure if she should feel pleased or insulted. “It’s the most logical decision.”
“But your best friend?”
“Would understand that 300 lives are worthier than two.”
“Remind me never to apply to be your best friend,” Olivia quipped.
Jaime tilted her head. “Would you prefer 300 people lost their lives? Imagine the impact—the suffering of all those affected, all so you can live?”
“People generally want to live.”
“Unless they don’t.”
Olivia huffed. “I never thought about it that way. I guess I didn’t put myself in the friend’s shoes.”
“That’s the easier choice on the surface. We’re rarely selfish when it’s our own life.”
“I disagree,” Olivia argued. “Me not wanting to lose my best friend and allowing 300 strangers to die sounds pretty selfish.”
“It’s a different kind of selfishness.”
Olivia chuckled, a lovely, husky sound. “Oh, there are types of selfishness?”
“Of course. Motivation matters.” Jaime leaned forward. “You should know, being an attorney.”
Olivia smiled. “You’re right.”
“High praise, Counselor Gray.”
A blush dusted Olivia’s cheeks. “I’m sure there are extenuating circumstances.”
Jaime wondered just how far down that flush ran. She shook her head. “The wine?”
“No. I know exactly what I’m doing, Your Honor.”
Jaime bit her lower lip, her hands trembling as they dropped into her lap.
Olivia sighed. “I guess I never thought about how it would affect my friend—that my choice, while saving her, would also lead to the death of 300 people.”
“Understandable. Most ‘what if’ scenarios aim to elicit emotional responses instead of logic.”
“That’s what makes them fun.”
“To most people, yes,” Jaime conceded.
“But not you.”
Jaime hesitated. “It depends on whether you like someone trying to draw out your emotional instincts.”
“And you don’t.”
Once more, Olivia’s tone carried such certainty. Jaime shifted in her seat. “Statement or question?”
“A statement.” Olivia’s fingers drummed on the table. “Though I’d like to follow up with a question.”
Jaime clenched her jaw, her heart pounding, and despite feeling more than a little unmoored, curiosity won out. “Go ahead.” She grasped her glass.
“How about a demonstration?”
“Of what?” Jaime’s mind shouted at her to run, apparently quicker on the uptake of the oncoming capsizing than she was, distracted by Olivia’s enticing intensity.
“Of how fun it can be to let someone, me, in this case, draw out your emotional instincts.”
Jaime froze, a buzzing sound filling her ears as Olivia’s feverish gaze promised more than Jaime could hope to survive.