Page 3 of Barristers & Bones
“Do your employers know you treat visitors like this?”
“Ms. Cross, I assure you I treat everyone who comes to our offices with the respect they deserve,” she retorted.
“I’m sure you do.” I started walking around her desk toward the frosted glass doors behind her.
“Mr. Fowler will see you when he’s ready,” Brenna said loudly, standing up and trying to block me.
“That’s a little hard to do when he doesn’t know I’m here.” I breezed past her and pushed into the law offices. I could move faster in my loafers than she could in her heels.
A large desk sat in the inner foyer, and a lean, middle-aged man in an immaculate black suit worked behind it. His desk faced an impressive conference room, and several luxurious offices lined the walls. And, of course, they had a view of the Strip.
“I’m looking for Roman Fowler,” I told the man as I approached his desk.
Brenna trailed behind me. “You can’t just barge in here–”
I cut her off like she’d done to me. “I’ve been sitting in the lobby area for the past forty-five minutes with your useless receptionist, who never buzzed Mr. Fowler to let him know I was here.”
“That’s not true!” Brenna insisted, with obvious forced indignation. “And I’m deeply offended by your accusation.”
“I didn’t intend to offend you, that’s just a bonus.” I spared her a glance and turned to the lean, middle-aged man in the crisp black suit. “Are you Roman Fowler?”
The man stood and turned to Brenna. “Ms. Wilson, we’ll discuss this when our visitor is gone. Go back to your desk.”
“Yes, Mr. Anderson,” she murmured, glaring at me before she turned and walked back outside.
Damn it, this guy wasn’t Fowler either. He reminded me a little of Mr. Anderson fromThe Matrix, with his slim build and formal manner. Minus the sunglasses.
I held out my hand. “Hello, Mr. Anderson. There’s been a misunderstanding, but one I hope we can clear up quickly. Is Roman Fowler available?”
“Call me Gideon. He’s on the phone but should be available shortly. Can I get you a coffee or cappuccino?”
“No, thank you.”
He tilted his head. “May I ask why you need to speak with Roman? I’m the office administrator. Maybe I can help.” Gideon sat on the edge of his desk.
Hope rose in my chest. Maybe I didn’t even need to talk with Fowler if Gideon would dismiss me. Then I could be on my way.
“That would be spectacular. My name is Luna Cross, and I’m a law student. You’re probably aware that we’re required to have a mentor and complete an internship with an attorney.”
Gideon nodded, but his demeanor cooled almost imperceptibly. “Where did you say you’re from, Ms. Cross?”
It was a strange question. “Arizona, but I moved to Las Vegas in my early teens.”
“I’m aware of the law school requirements. So Roman has been assigned as your mentor, and you plan to intern here?”
“No!” I winced and lowered my voice. “Not if he’ll agree to release me. I had another attorney already lined up since I plan to go into water law. But Klim Hudson, my law school counselor, emailed this morning and told me he’d assigned me to this law firm and Roman Fowler instead.”
Gideon studied me for several seconds, as if weighing my words. He didn’t say anything for so long that I worried I’d angered him.
“No offense to any of you. Well, maybe Brenna.”
Gideon’s head cocked. “Klim assigned you to Roman?”
“Yes. And when I told him I already had an internship lined up, Klim said it was either Roman or I didn’t graduate.”
“And what was your response to that?”
I shifted uncomfortably, and my eyes slid to the side. “I’d rather not tell you.”
