Chapter 6 – Welcome Party

Natalie’s POV

Everyone was staring at me.

Or maybe it just felt like it, because at that moment, I was still holding Brandon’s hand like I was about to confess to murder.

His eyes were locked on mine… confused, curious, and waiting for an answer I didn’t have. 

I quickly let go, pretending like I hadn’t just grabbed him out of pure panic.

“You should talk to Dylan first,” I said, clearing my throat and sitting back. “Let him handle it for you.”

Brandon blinked, still holding the phone mid-air like he hadn’t fully caught up yet. Then, slowly, he nodded and set the phone down on the center console.

“Alright,” he said. “That makes sense.”

Just when I thought the whole incident was behind us, he leaned in closer and asked, “By the way, was there something important about that call you just missed?”

Look, he must have known what had happened! Otherwise, why would he suddenly ask that?

“No, nothing important.” I waved my hand. “I never take personal calls during work hours,” I smoothly added.

Nobody said anything for the rest of the drive. I focused on the passing buildings outside the window, pretending I wasn’t seconds away from blowing my cover entirely.

He focused on the scenery too, like maybe if he didn’t speak, the awkward tension in the car would just melt into the air vents.

Back at the firm, I buried myself in the case. No room for distractions now.

I laid out every piece of material I had on Carmilla’s situation. Every document, every recorded word from our meeting, every note scribbled on the back of a coffee receipt.

I played the audio of our earlier conversation and jotted down the parts where her story twisted in on itself.

Then I combed through the files Brandon’s assistant sent over, tracking who approved what, when, and why. Someone had tried to bury the truth, but they left the shovel halfway out of the dirt. I was going to find it.

A knock on my door pulled me out of my head. Dylan stepped inside, holding two coffee cups and grinning like he’d just solved world peace.

“Guess what?” he said. “The firm’s throwing a party downstairs. Welcome back, champagne, awkward lawyers trying to flirt—your kind of scene.”

I looked up from my files. “You brought me coffee to bribe me into going, didn’t you?”

“Obviously.”

I took the cup anyway. “Give me twenty minutes.”

Dylan glanced at my screen, then at the folder labeled “Brandon York Case.”

His smile faded just a little. “You took it?”

I nodded.

He leaned on the edge of my desk. “Didn’t think you would.”

I shrugged. “Neither did I.”

He looked at me for a long second, like he wanted to ask something but already knew the answer. “Does he know?”

I shook my head.

“And you’re not planning to tell him.”

“Correct.”

Dylan exhaled. “He’s looking for a divorce lawyer, by the way. Asked me earlier.”

“I told him to talk to you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

“He trusts me, and I trust you. It works.”

Dylan ran a hand over his jaw, thoughtful. “You really think you can keep working with him like this? Without it messing with your head?”

I took a sip of the coffee. “I’m not doing it for him. I’m doing it for the case.”

“And that’s where you draw the line?”

“That’s where I put the fence, the alarms, and the security cameras.”

He laughed under his breath. “Alright. Just don’t let him get under your skin. He’s not worth getting hurt over again.”

I took a deep sigh and didn’t reply to that.

Ten minutes later, we took the elevator down to the bar across the street. I didn’t say a word the entire ride. Dylan didn’t either, probably taking my silence as proof that he’d struck a nerve. He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of confirming it.

At the bar, everything smelled like overpriced liquor, desperation, and ego. A classic lawyer combo.

People from the firm were already there, gathered around a tall, stylish woman in a blazer and boots… Emma.

My mood lifted instantly.

“Look what the storm dragged in,” I said, grinning as I crossed the floor.

Emma turned and beamed. “Surprise.”

“You didn’t tell me you were back.”

“I wanted to see if you’d cry.”

“Almost did,” I said, hugging her. “Missed you.”

Emma and I went way back. College roommates, opposite majors, same caffeine addiction. She hadn’t become a lawyer like the rest of us. She started her own business and somehow managed to stay sane.

“I’ve been back two days,” she said. “Just landed from Europe. Had to set this up fast.”

“You mean you planned this?”

She winked. “What’s a comeback without a party?”

Later that night, while the others were getting tipsy off watered-down cocktails and arguing over billable hours, Emma pulled me toward the restroom. It felt like college all over again, except we had better shoes now.

Inside, she leaned against the counter and looked at me through the mirror. “I heard about the divorce.”

I gave a half-smile. “News travels.”

“I’m happy for you,” she said. “Honestly. That guy sounded like a disaster.”

I didn’t respond, just reapplied my lipstick and nodded like I agreed. I didn’t. Not completely.

“Wait,” she said suddenly, eyes narrowing. “Your ex-husband… is he the CEO of York International?”

My stomach dropped.

I tried to keep my face neutral. “What’s wrong?”

“I think we’ve been working with them,” she said, tapping her chin. “What’s his name again?”

“Brandon,” I said, just as we pushed open the bathroom door and walked back out.

And there he was!

Standing across the bar with a drink in hand, shirt rolled to the sleeves, smirking like the universe told him to show up for maximum awkward effect.

I saw him but Emma didn’t!

“Right! Brandon,” she went on, way too loud for my comfort. “God, what a pretentious name. I think he’s a total egomaniac. If it weren’t for work, I’d never deal with someone like that prick—"

I pinched her. Hard! Wtf Emma!

“Ow, what the hell was that for?” She turned to look at me, confused and half-laughing, until she followed my eyes.

Brandon raised his glass with a slow, smug smile.

“Would never deal with someone like me, Ms. N?”