Chapter 1
Room Four – Voyeurism
Quaid~
Most days, I loved my job, but that was probably because I was addicted to the thrill of winning. As a litigation lawyer, I argued for a living, and catching the opposing attorney with his pants down fulfilled a need in me that a therapist would probably have a field day with.
However, today was not one of those days.
For whatever reason, Ernesto DeLéon had decided to bring his daughter with him to our meeting, and I didn’t do well with spoiled brats, which she clearly was.
It was painfully obvious that Ernesto had been indulging her since the day that she’d been born, and if anyone had ever needed to be taken over a knee, it was this girl.
Luckily, having come from a big family, I had learned the art of patience early on.
My parents, Diondré and Necie Crawford, had chosen to have five kids, and I’d been the oldest out of three boys and two girls, and with them working constantly to provide for all seven of us, I’d been left in charge of my siblings a lot.
A lot.
Granted, that wasn’t a complaint, though it might sound as if it were.
Truth be told, I adored my siblings, and as adults, we were still very close.
Even though they were all busy with their families, jobs, and interests, we all spoke often on the phone, and since we’d all chosen to continue living in the same town of Portal Lands, all the cousins were growing up together as well.
As for me, I was the only one who had decided against marriage and kids, but not because I didn’t believe in the institute of family.
I had chosen to take a different route because, as far as I’d been concerned, I had already raised my kids.
With all us siblings being only two years apart, I had spent my entire adolescent life raising kids and being the best big brother that I could be.
Even when I’d gone off to college, I had checked on my siblings regularly, and so once I’d finally graduated from law school, the peace and quiet that comforted my home had become addictive.
No matter how rough my day might be, knowing that I’d be walking into an empty condo for the much-needed relaxation that I needed felt priceless.
Besides, I spent enough time with my nieces and nephews that I never felt as if I was missing out on anything.
Now, that wasn’t to say that I didn’t have a few serious relationships under my belt, because I did.
While my twenties had been all about scratching the itch because that’s all I’d had time for, once my career had finally gotten underway, that’s when I had taken dating a bit more seriously.
While I hadn’t wanted marriage or kids, I hadn’t been opposed to a partner with the same mirroring career goals.
In any event, ten years later, I was still single because women who didn’t want marriage and/or kids were rare, and all three women that I’d gotten serious with in the past had either lied about wanting the same things that I did, or else they had simply changed their minds.
So, at forty-years-old, my career was my first love, and I really hated it when someone like Zia DeLéon contaminated my workplace.
Her father was here for a case against wrongful termination, and looking at the facts, it was going to be an easy win for me since corporate bullies rarely worried about someone finally standing up to them.
“I still don’t understand why you’re not fighting for more money,” Zia huffed. “I mean, it’s rather clear that Mr. Pritchard is racist, and that’s why he fired my father.”
Doing my best to remain professional, I said, “Ms. DeLéon, court cases such as your father’s are won on facts, not supposition. So, since there are no witnesses to any racism, we can hardly include that in our complaint.”
Zia arched a dark brow, and those blue eyes of hers probably got her whatever the hell she wanted in life. “I’m surprised that you’d dismiss racism so easily.”
Yeah, she needed a good spanking.
Now, did racism exist? Of course. Whether it be in the form of racial stereotypes, personal prejudices, or something in the more serious neighborhood of the KKK, it existed, and anyone who said otherwise was either incredibly na?ve or just plain ignorant.
However, that didn’t mean that every offense known to man was based off racism.
Some people-like Donald Pritchard-were just assholes.
In fact, it was most people with money who were the assholes, and it had nothing to do with race.
It had to do with social classes, and the love of money really was the root of all evil, Ms. DeLéon being a prime example.
Instead of being satisfied with Pritchard Communications paying what her father was owed-which was a lot-she was asking for more money.
“Ms. DeLéon, me being Black has nothing to do with this case or the facts that represent it,” I told her sternly.
“Just like your father being Spanish has nothing to do with his legal arguments against Pritchard Communications. So, it would really be helpful if you could refrain from any commentary that isn’t useful to your father’s case. ”
Zia let out an offended gasp as she looked over at her father. “Are you going to let him speak to me like that?”
“Cara, it’s okay,” Ernesto said soothingly as he patted her on the arm. “Let Mr. Crawford do his job.”
“Perhaps you should have gone with someone a little more well-established,” she remarked rudely, and despite how beautiful she was, it was clear why she wasn’t wearing a ring.
As for her dig at my professional reputation, I ignored it because I knew that my success spoke for itself.
For over ten years, I’d been kicking ass in the courtroom, and being able to work for myself was a testament to that.
The days of proving myself as a lowly junior associate were long gone, and some little brat’s snide comments couldn’t take away from that.
Not to mention that she looked to be in her mid-twenties, so what in the hell did she know about life?
“Cara, please,” Ernesto pleaded. “Mr. Crawford is doing a fine job.”
“Whatever,” she replied flippantly, and I could only imagine what a terror she was.
Looking back my way, Ernesto said, “My apologies, it’s just...you know, this has been hard on my entire family.”
I gave him a terse nod. “Which is why my firm is doing everything that we can to make sure that Pritchard Communications doesn’t get away with what they’ve done, Mr. DeLéon.”
“Can we get Camacho’s after this?” Zia asked like a six-year-old. “I’m hungry.”
“Yes, Zia,” her father automatically answered. “Whatever you want, cara.”
As I watched Zia’s eyes lower, like being dismissed felt very personal to her, I had to remind myself that I was in a profession where it didn’t do well to judge someone by their appearances or even first impressions.
Too many times to count, clients had come in here upset, angry, or an emotional mess of some kind or another.
Though Zia DeLéon was acting extremely unbecoming, I had no idea what kind of day she might be having.
I had no idea what kind of life she led, and while she didn’t have a ring on her finger, who’s to say that she didn’t have an abusive boyfriend who cheated on her all the time?
Just like everyone else on the planet, she was also entitled to have a bad day.
So, rather than make this meeting about her, I decided to ignore the woman and concentrate on my actual client. Once I won Ernesto DeLéon’s case, I was never going to see these people again, and so whatever made Zia DeLéon tick was none of my business.
“Do you feel that they’ll present another offer?” Ernesto asked.
Early on, Pritchard’s lawyers had presented a rather decent offer, but companies only did that when a lawsuit had the potential to cost them a lot more, especially when you factored in the attorney fees. Seriously, lawyers were the only people who ever won when someone decided to sue.
“If they do, then we’ll give it the same consideration as the first offer,” I assured him.
“How much longer until we can go?” Zia piped up. “I’m hungry.”
Wanting this meeting over just as badly as she did, I said, “It’s not a problem. I have most of what I need, and this meeting was just to touch base anyway.”
Ernesto looked relieved as he said, “Oh, good...great. I’ll...then you’ll call me if you hear anything more from their lawyers?”
I nodded as I stood, signaling the end of the meeting. “Of course.”
Once Ernesto and Zia stood from their seats, Ernesto reached out to shake my hand. “Thank you very much, Mr. Crawford. I really appreciate everything that you’re doing for me and my family.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied genuinely.
As soon as our handshake ended, Zia was reaching out to shake my hand as well, and that surprised the hell out of me. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Crawford.”
Though we both knew that she was lying, I took her hand in mine anyway. “Likewise, Ms. DeLéon.”
Nothing more was said as father and daughter walked out of my office, and while I’d normally walk them to the door, the man in me wanted nothing more to do with Zia DeLéon.
Not only did she appear to be more trouble than she was worth, but I was easily fifteen years older than she was, and that was a fetish that only brought drama.