CHAPTER 3- The Panic

 

Alexandra Richardson's hands were shaking.

She pressed them flat against the cool mahogany surface of her new desk and commanded them to stop. They didn't listen. The tremor traveled up her arms, settled in her chest and made her breathing shallow.

Emma Parker worked here.

Emma.

The name ricocheted through Alex's mind like a bullet she couldn't dodge. Eight years. Three thousand miles. An entire carefully constructed life built on the foundation of forgetting, and it had all crumbled the second their eyes met across that conference room.

Alex stood abruptly, the leather chair rolling backward with the force of her movement. She walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, needing distance from the desk, from the door, from the reality of what had just happened. Twenty-two floors below, San Francisco stretched out in shops and travellers, people going out to lunch, mothers strolling with babies in their rollers. The Bay Bridge gleamed in the late morning sun, ferries cutting white paths through dark water.

She'd been back in the Bay Area for exactly six hours.

Her entire world had imploded in under one.

The view blurred. Alex blinked hard, pressed her fingertips to the glass. Cold. Solid. Real. Unlike everything else in this moment, which felt like a nightmare she couldn't wait to wake from.

She'd prepared for this move meticulously. Spent three months negotiating her exit from Hartman & Associates, researching Morrison's case history, studying their culture and client base. She'd found an apartment in Pacific Heights with exposed brick and too much space for one person. She'd mapped out her first ninety days, her strategy for building the IP department, her five-year plan for making this the most successful decision of her career.

She'd prepared for everything.

Except meeting Emma.

The elevator. God, that elevator ride had been torture. Emma standing there, spine rigid, refusing to look at her. The hurt and anger radiating off her in waves.

You've always wanted the career more than….

Emma had stopped herself, but Alex heard the rest anyway.

More than me.

And the worst part? It had been true. Eight years ago, Alex had chosen her career over Emma. Had convinced herself it was the right choice, the mature choice, the only choice.

She'd been lying to herself for eight years.

Alex's reflection stared back at her from the window. Thirty-four years old. Blonde hair perfectly styled. Charcoal Tom Ford suit that cost more than her first month's rent out of law school. Every inch the successful senior partner.

She looked nothing like the twenty-one-year-old who'd kissed Emma Parker for the first time in an empty mock trial courtroom and felt the entire world shift on its axis.

That girl had been terrified. Closeted. Drowning in expectations from her retired-judge father and Junior League mother. That girl had fallen in love and then run from it so fast she'd left scorch marks.

This woman, the one in the reflection, had spent eight years trying to become someone who could live with that choice.

She'd failed miserably.

Her intercom buzzed, making her jump.

"Ms. Richardson? Mr. Morrison would like to see you in his office."

Alex's stomach dropped. Had Emma already complained? Requested reassignment?

"I'll be right there."

She straightened her jacket, checked her reflection one more time. Professional mask firmly in place. Whatever Morrison wanted, she could handle it.

She walked down the hallway, past conference rooms and associate offices, wondering which one was Emma's. Wondering if Emma was in there right now, trying to figure out how to get away from her.

Morrison's office was twice the size of Alex's, with awards and commendations covering one wall. He gestured her to a seat across from his desk.

"Alex. How's your first morning going?"

"Productive, thank you." The lie came easily.

"Good, good." Morrison leaned back in his leather chair. "I wanted to touch base about the Bennett case. It's a critical matter for us, high-profile client, significant money at stake. Win this, and you'll establish yourself as the head of our IP practice."

"I understand. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't." Morrison pulled out a file. "Which is why I’ve assigned you Emma Parker as your second chair? She's exceptional. Top of her class at Stanford Law, brilliant legal mind, incredible work ethic."

Stanford. Alex's alma mater. The university where they'd met, where everything had begun.

"She seems very capable," Alex managed.

"She is. But more than that…" Morrison's expression grew serious. "Emma's special. She came to us three years ago fresh out of law school with a determination that rivals most new lawyers her age. She's worked harder than anyone else, never complained, never asked for special treatment. This case goes well, I'm recommending her for early promotion to senior associate."

Each word was a weight on Alex's chest.

"She deserves it," Alex said quietly.

"She does. Which is why I need to know—" Morrison's sharp eyes fixed on her. "Is there any reason you and Emma can't work together effectively?"

Alex's heart stopped. "I'm sorry?"

“I just need to make sure both of you can work together successfully because most times women can be unpredictable.” Morrison said chuckling quietly.

"You have nothing to worry about sir. We're both professionals."

"Excellent." Morrison stood, signaling the conversation was over. "I'll let Emma know you're ready to begin strategy sessions. Oh, and Alex? We have a mandatory all-hands meeting tomorrow at nine. I'll expect you both there to present your preliminary case strategy."

Tomorrow. Less than twenty-four hours to prepare. With Emma.

"Of course," Alex said.

She left Morrison's office with her mind spinning. Tomorrow morning. She'd have to face Emma again. Work with her. Pretend the air between them wasn't crackling with eight years of unresolved history.

Back in her office, Alex collapsed into her chair. Pulled up the Bennett case file on her computer. Stared at the words without really seeing them.