“How’re your parents doing?”
“None of your business.”
“How’s Anthony?”
“Also not your concern.”
“Tell him I said congratulations on the new baby.”
Anthony flipped him the bird, though it was off-screen.
Mary was losing patience. “What are you calling about, Machiavelli? And you know I hate it when you FaceTime me.”
“Which is why I do it.” Machiavelli grinned. “Also it’s fun. Work should be fun, Mare, don’t you think?”
“Is this about the case? If so, get to the point. If not, I’m hanging up.”
“You guys ready to settle?” Machiavelli’s smile evaporated, which reminded Mary that he never did anything without a purpose. Despite his joking around, he was deadly serious when he wanted something, and this time, he wanted to destroy her and her firm.
“No settlement, ever. And as you know, I’m a defendant in the suit you filed, not a lawyer, so you’re not permitted to communicate with me directly. We hired a lawyer. He should have sent you a letter already.”
“Roger Vitez, that hippie? He did, but I like you better.”
“This is the last call I’m taking from you.”
“Think about settling, Mare. Don’t be stubborn. I know how you get.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You guys are going down.”
“Remains to be seen.”
Machiavelli chuckled. “Isn’t that from the Magic 8-Ball?”
“No, that would be, ‘reply hazy, try again.’”
“It’s going to get worse from here, Mare. Your press conference was a fiasco. I got you dead-to-rights. Your firm’s been getting away with murder for too long. It’s against the law to hire only women. We boys deserve a break today.”
“Oh, please,” Mary said, ending the call. She tried not to let it get to her, but she felt shaken. The stakes were high, and Machiavelli stopped at nothing.
“Babe?” Anthony said, softly.
“Yes?” Mary looked over.
Anthony smiled, grimly. “Beat his ass.”
CHAPTER TEN
Mary rode upward in the elevator, late on her way into the office because she had stopped to get bagels and cream cheese for everybody. Even pregnant, she couldn’t imagine working on the weekend without a food reward. She pulled up her maternity pants, trying to situate them comfortably on her belly. They were the only thing more annoying than maternity dresses, and she’d been horrified by this pair, ugly wide-legged jeans with a big swath of black elastic in the belly, as if someone had taken a black Sharpie around the equator.
The elevator doors opened, and she stepped into the office and trundled through the empty reception hall, breathing heavily. She felt like the Little Train That Could, huffing and puffing along,I think I can I think I can,but truth to tell, Mary had felt that way even before her pregnancy. She’d always had to give herself pep talks, telling herself she could do whatever it was that she was afraid of, and happily, she’d been right most of the time. This time, she worried she was up against her biggest challenge.
Her thoughts churning away, Mary walked down the hallway toward the conference room, where she knew the others would be waiting. For the first time ever, she had to admit thather stress levels were maxing out. Anthony had barely spoken to her before they fell asleep last night, and she’d left early enough so they only had time for a quick breakfast. She was as worried as he was about the possibility that they could lose the lawsuit, which could put them into personal bankruptcy. Not only that, but she was worried about whether this was the end of Rosato & DiNunzio. It seemed impossible, but the stakes couldn’t be higher.
“Oh,” Mary said, surprised as she arrived at the threshold of the conference room. She had expected Bennie and Judy, who were sitting at the conference table in T-shirts and jeans, but catty-corner to them was Roger Vitez, dressed like a Steve Jobs wannabe again, in what looked like a fresh black turtleneck and jeans, and he sat next to a younger, sandy-haired man in rimless glasses, who was dressed like a Vitez wannabe.
“Perfect timing, DiNunzio.” Bennie flashed her a stiff smile, but didn’t look especially happy, and Judy jumped up, came around the table, and reached for the bag.
