The Fall Affair

Chapter 1

Allegra

“CAN YOU DO me a favor and pick up calamine lotion on your way in?”

“Oh no.” My assistant sighed. “Again?”

Her husband’s voice grumbled from somewhere behind her. “Hang up. It’s six o’clock in the damn morning.”

It sounded like Cassie covered the phone, but I could still make out her words. “Allegra’s freaking out about the partnership announcement.”

“Sucks. But she’ll still be freaking out after the sun comes up. I have a twenty-four-hour shift at the firehouse starting in a few hours.”

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll go in the other room.”

There was a brief pause, followed by the creak of a door opening and shutting, before she came back on the line.

“Seriously, Allegra, you’ve got this. You’re worrying for nothing.

You billed over twenty-eight hundred hours last year, more than anyone at the entire firm.

And the partners give you all the high-profile cases. ”

My paralegal was right. I deserved to be made partner after six years of working my butt off.

Eight associates had started the same day I did, and only three of us were left now.

Three had gotten fired within the first year, and two had left to start their own practice together.

The only other remaining associates were Dale and Sierra, and they weren’t much competition.

Dale was smart and hardworking, with a ton of potential, but he was a disorganized mess and had recently blown a filing deadline that led to the client suing our firm, Kasoff, Faust & Moore, for seven figures.

And it wasn’t the first time he’d missed an important date.

It was just the first time it had come back to bite him in the ass.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” I said. “I didn’t realize it was so early. I’m on my way to the office to run my cross by Will before I go to court to annihilate Mr. Whittaker, and I was almost there before I noticed the bumps starting on my chest.”

“It’s fine. I should’ve been awake already, but I stayed up late bingeing some stupid reality TV show.

I’ll pick up the lotion on my way in and leave it on your desk, in case we miss each other.

I have to run to Brooklyn family court to pick up the sealed records you need for the DeLaurentis case.

Good luck today. Not that you need it—in court or at the partnership announcement tonight. ”

“Thanks, Cass.”

I swiped my phone off as I arrived at the office.

Most days I rushed in and out without giving the building any thought, but this morning I slowed and took in the full glory of 625 Lexington Avenue.

The rising sun cast a shimmery glow across the face of the iconic skyscraper, giving it a majestic feeling.

Six years ago, this very day, I’d stood here with my hands shaking, nervous about my first day at one of the biggest law firms in New York City.

This time tomorrow, I should be a partner—I’d better be, considering how much I’d given up to get here.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed through the front door and then the turnstile, saying good morning to the security guard before heading to the elevator bank.

As usual, the halls were empty when I stepped off on the fifty-seventh floor.

Sometimes an associate or two was in at this hour, but never the support staff, and it was a rarity for any partner to show up before seven.

Well, except for Will Stevens, who had been my mentor since I started here.

Whenever I was on trial, he came in early so I could run my opening or closing by him—or practice a cross-examination, like I planned to do today.

I pushed through the sleek glass double doors to the firm’s reception area, which looked more like the entrance to a designer showroom than a law office.

Minimalist furnishings, white walls lined with abstract art and gallery lighting, and an oversized vase of fresh flowers greeted visitors.

It was impressive, at least until you went up to the top floor where all the partner offices were.

There you were met with the same fancy decor and sweeping, floor-to-ceiling views of Manhattan.

I caught myself momentarily distracted, wondering what kind of budget I might get to decorate my new space once the formalities of making partner were finally behind me.

Inside my office, I tucked my purse in a drawer and grabbed the stack of index cards I always used to prep for trials.

Then I stopped in the coffee room for a much-needed caffeine fix.

By the time I went upstairs to the partner floor, it was six thirty, exactly three hours before I would tear Mr. Whittaker apart on the stand.

I was going to enjoy wiping the smug smile off that cheating jerk’s face.

Will’s office was two from the end of the hall.

I walked down, reading my first question from the top index card while mouthing the words to myself as I passed a dozen empty offices.

At least I thought they were all empty until I heard a noise that sounded like a man in pain coming from somewhere behind me.

I stopped and looked back, noticing that Harry Kasoff’s door was slightly ajar.

The hall was now pin-drop quiet, though, so perhaps I’d imagined the sound.

I raised my foot to keep going, but as I touched the pointy toe of my pump to the carpet, there was another noise—a groan, and this time the sound was louder.

Panic washed over me. Was Harry in there having a heart attack?

My own heart pounded as I turned around.

Every instinct told me to rush into his office and make sure he was okay—damn, I hope I remember the CPR I learned in middle school.

Yet something… Something stopped me. Not fear, but a pulse of doubt.

Like my heart knew what I was about to walk in on before my brain could admit it.

Instead of blasting the door open, I held my breath and peered through the crack.

And there was old Harry Kasoff, white-knuckling the arms of his chair. His head was tipped back, and his mouth hung unattractively open. My already-wide eyes bulged as I noticed a set of feet sticking out from the side of his desk.

Feet with shoes.

Women’s shoes.

Louboutins, to be exact—the So Kate black patent-leather pumps with shiny red bottoms. I had a pair myself, which sort of freaked me out at the moment. I’d never worn them to the office, of course. Stilettos that high were reserved for date nights that didn’t involve a lot of walking.

But those don’t look like the 120 heel size.

Do they make the So Kate in a lower heel now?

Mine are matte black, not the shiny patent leather.

Wonder if I’d get more use out of them? For a few seconds, I stood there thinking dumb thoughts about my shoes rather than fully comprehending that one of the senior partners at my firm was getting a blow job at his desk.

The image didn’t seem to process, like my brain was busy buffering and couldn’t spit out the answer to what was going on.

Once it finally did, I clamped a hand over my mouth, stepped back quietly, and hurried the rest of the way down the hall.

Will, the partner I’d been coming to see, stepped out of his office—the one now behind me—and into the hall.

“Allegra?”

“Oh… Um, hey.” I forced a smile.

He furrowed his brow and pointed inside his office. “Weren’t we meeting in here?”

I swallowed. “Yeah, of course. I was just going to…” I pointed ahead of me and pulled the first thing I thought of out of my ass. “Run to the bathroom.”

The crease between his brows deepened. He pointed in the opposite direction. “The ladies’ room is that way.”

Crap.

I closed my eyes briefly. “Right…right. Sorry. I’m still half asleep. I should’ve picked up coffee before coming in.”

Will’s eyes pointed down to the cup in my hand. He smirked. “You really are sleepy this morning.”

I shook my head. “Sorry, yeah. I just need a minute.”

He held up a hand. “Take your time. I’m sure you’re overprepared and don’t even really need to do a run-through.”

“Thanks. I’ll, uh, be back in a few minutes.”

I started to walk again and realized I was still going the wrong direction, which Will had just reminded me. When I turned around, he looked amused, but said nothing else as I made my way to the other end of the hall.

I couldn’t bear to look toward the door as I passed Harry Kasoff’s office.

The vision of his wrinkly face in ecstasy was already going to haunt my dreams. I spent a full ten minutes in the ladies’ room, attempting to get my head back in the game.

But it wasn’t easy. Those were not shoes Harry’s wife would wear, even if she hadn’t had back surgery only two weeks ago.

And I didn’t think the sixty-five-year-old appellate court judge frequented the office at dawn to give her husband of thirty-odd years a blow job at his desk.

No… Harry Kasoff, the founding partner of Kasoff, Faust & Moore, was definitely having an affair.

***

Being in court did something to me. It sharpened my focus, making everything else fade into the background. Even the horror show I’d unwillingly been subjected to this morning slipped out of reach. And for that, I was hella grateful.