Fighting Our Way Read online

  “Morning, ladies.”

  “Not again,” Tara chuckles out.

  “Damn right,” I reply as seriously as I can, looking around the open space. Where are these damn interns?

  Tara giggles as I do half a lunge to discreetly try and get the tiny running shorts I've squeezed into out of my asscheeks.

  “I thought you'd have grown up a little when you hit your thirties,” Freya groans.

  She's known me since I was a teenager. She used to work for my father in his law firm as his PA. I was always around my father when I wasn't in class, trying to gain the insider info to get a step-up: I learned from the best.

  “You're only as young as you feel. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun and hazing the newbies.” My gaze flicks over to the front doors as three fresh faces walk in and I grin. Game on. “Gentlemen, nice of you to join us.”

  I try to keep a straight face as they all glance over my attire and back at each other. One even checks their watch before stepping ahead of the rest of them and clearing their throat. I like the confident ones.

  “Excuse me, sir, we're the interns starting today. We're supposed to meet—”

  “Me. You're supposed to meet me.”

  “Erm…” He looks over at Freya and Tara who shrug and run their gazes back to their computers. When he doesn't get any help from them, he turns back toward me. “We’re actually here to meet Ms. Raine.”

  “My partner may have interviewed you all but she's far too busy this morning, so you have me instead.” Recognition dawns on their faces and I smirk, motioning toward the waiting area.

  They follow me and sit down in the seats I point toward. “My name is Nathan Cole, but you can call me Mr. Cole until you earn your position in this company.” They all nod and stare at me blankly. “I am the other half of this firm as well as many of our prestigious lawyers under the Raine, Cole and Associates umbrella. You’ll be put under the interns from last year to learn the ropes, but I requested to show you around.”

  One of them raises their hand but I ignore it. It’s showtime.

  I raise my leg onto a chair in a stretch, the running shorts I’m adorning pressing tightly into my thighs. One of the interns bites back a laugh with a quick cough.

  “Something amusing?”

  He startles, his eyes widening. “Erm, I… no, not at all.”

  “Good. Then follow me, and don’t forget to take notes.” I take off in a jog toward the hallway the running track is on, turning to run backward as I watch them fumble with all of their belongings, briefcases probably containing nothing slowing them all down. “Gotta learn to keep up.”

  When they catch up and we’re running the bright-red track, I start my speech, pointing to things they need to know along the way.

  “The main offices are all contained in the middle of the building on the inside of the track. Don’t step on this track unless you intend to run or you’ll be trampled by someone. It goes all the way to the very top of the building in a spiral shape. There are stairs and an elevator in the center, but we try to encourage our staff to stay active and healthy.”

  They’re furiously writing everything I’m saying down with confused looks on their faces as they stumble along the track and I barely contain my laughter. This is all part of me checking out their characters—and livening up my boring day simply because I can.

  “Any questions so far?” I ask.

  One of them closes his notepad. “Please don’t think I’m questioning your authority, but what does any of this have to do with the company or us for that matter?”

  I hold back a smirk. “Do you not think it’s important to keep up a healthy lifestyle?”

  “Well… yes, but in our personal time. Not at the workplace.”

  I slow down. “What’s your name?”

  “Steve.”

  “Well, Steve, that’s your first wrong answer.” I look at all of them in turn. “You have all chosen a profession that involves lots of paperwork and long, grueling hours. Many of those hours you’ll be spending sitting at a desk and eating whatever is on hand. You won’t have a lot of time for the gym unless you want to sacrifice the precious few hours of sleep or any social time you may find you have. We’re always looking for ways to improve our work environment and one of our interns came up with this very running track. You may think it unnecessary and irrelevant now, but trust me, you’ll thank us when you still fit into your expensive, tailored suits.”

  I turn back around without acknowledging anymore comments from them, but I can tell the running is taking its toll from their heavy breathing.

  We reach the middle of the building and I start jogging on the spot outside one of the three conference rooms.

  “The label on the door is pretty self-explanatory; this is the main conference room where we will have meetings. There’s two more, learn where each are and ingrain them into your memory, you’ll be doing a lot of back and forth between them.” I start walking at a fast pace on the track again, them following behind me. “As interns you will be assisting us all as well as putting forward your own ideas and input. This is very important. Learn to have a voice or you know where the doors are. Here at Raine, Cole and Associates, we’re looking for people who will speak up and are innovative. We—”

  “Sir—”

  “Mr. Cole.”

  “Right. Mr. Cole. I’m well aware and I’m sure my colleagues here are too of the innovative ways this firm runs. I’ve done a lot of research and I really think I have what it takes to blend in with the company.”

  “Then you haven’t listened to what I’ve been saying. I don’t want you to blend in, I want you to stand out and have a voice. You all aced the bar, you wouldn't be here if you didn’t, so I’m expecting great things from you all.”

  I can see the sweat rolling off them and one is lagging behind by the time we’re nearing the top. They’ve kept up though and not stopped like some of the last ones.

  The hustle and bustle of the top floor as interns and junior associates flit in and out of offices makes me smile, but they all stop and clap as the interns come running to a halt one by one. Stacey, the only intern from last year to keep up with me, hands me and each one of the new interns a bottle of cold water. “Still at it, Mr. Cole?”

  “Stacey.” I shake my head at her. “I’ve told you to call me Nate.”

  “Wouldn’t feel right,” she says shrugging.

  I chuckle and turn toward the flushed, sweating faces of the three interns. “Welcome aboard, guys. Don’t let me down.”

  I nod toward last year's interns, this year’s junior associates, and they immediately file upon the three to show them toward the showers and give them a rundown on how everything works around here. My methods might be unorthodox and completely mad, but they never forget their first day and what we stand for. We’re like a family here and I’d like to keep it that way.

  I like to give all of my worker bees a good working life. Being a lawyer can sometimes be stuffy. To the public we’re seen as boring and hard-faced, but I like to keep the workplace fun. Ever since we started to implement the healthy lifestyle program, we’ve won more cases and brought on more clients than ever before. Marina, my partner, was skeptical at first thinking it’d take time out of work and lessen productivity, but in actual fact it’s improved everything.

  Everything everyone needs is right in this building. We have a food court with the best chefs and zero fast food in sight. You don’t have to eat there, but it saves going outside the office. We have the running track that can be used at lunch or in between meetings with our clients. There’s a gym, a mini spa, and a salon that each worker gets special points to use in every month. We take care of the people who work here so that they’ll take care of our reputation and clients.

  Happy staff equals more productivity.

  But as soon as someone abuses the system we’ve got going on here, they’re out. We have no time for lazy, unproductive people. You don’t
have to use the running track or the gym if you don’t want to, it’s not a rule of working here, but it’s there if they want to. We encourage a healthy lifestyle, not force it down people’s throats.

  Pushing into my office, I shower and change, ready for a long day of clients, my first being a long-ass meeting discussing a top priority case.

  On my way I grab a tray of sushi from the sushi bar in the food court and pull out my cell, typing out what feels like the hundredth message of the last three days to my supposed best friend, Tris.

  Nate: You + me + beers = extremely drunk. Let’s make it a reality this weekend.

  Nate: Tomorrow night, 8pm at Gillies. Be there or be square.

  Nate: Hello from the other side. I must've called a thousand times.

  Nate: Your severe lack of response makes me want to contact you more, jackass.

  Nate: You better be extremely busy or have lost your cell to not message me back for three days. And I know you’ve seen them! The iPhone doesn’t lie!

  I sit back in the comfy leather chair in conference room three. I’m the first one here so I take a deep breath and think about what the hell I can do to help my friend who doesn’t seem to want to be helped.

  Does he know I know Harmony is back and haven’t told him yet? I shake my head, popping a piece of sushi into my mouth. No, he can’t. I do feel guilty for not telling him, I know as his friend I should warn him but it’s not my news to share. Plus, he’d ask questions as to how I know and I can’t break client confidentiality. I’m a professional before anything else.

  I close the empty sushi box thinking I’ll tell him when her divorce is finally over and just say I ran into her in passing or something.

  Before my mind can run away with me, the intercom in the middle of the table beeps before Tara’s voice comes over the line. “Mr. Cole, are you in there?”

  I press the button to reply. “Sure am.”

  “Finally, I’ve been trying to get you everywhere.”

  “Just keeping you on your toes, Tara. Is everything okay?”

  “Sure. I’m just letting you know Mr. Ryan is here for his one o’clock.”

  “Thanks, Tara. Send him up.”

  My last client of the day was, and always has been, an asshole. It’s a case we’ve been working on for the last six months and it’s not going the way he wanted it to. He’s being sued for tax evasion and even though I’m good, the evidence is there plain as day.

  I scrub a hand down my face before collecting all of my stuff and locking my office door. I take the elevator down to the parking lot while reading messages on my cell. Not one of them is from Tris; I scoff, having had enough of his silent treatment.

  Nate: Time’s up, I’m coming over.

  The message is marked as read but again I get no reply, much to my frustration. It’s been this way for a while now.

  I jump in my car and start the drive to his house, getting stuck in traffic on the way and tapping my thumbs on the steering wheel as everyone going home from work crawls out of the city at a snail's pace.

  Gazing around me as I loosen my tie, I rest back in the custom leather seats of my new gunmetal Mercedes-AMG GT coupe. I’m not a materialistic person whatsoever, but it just so happens I have the means to buy things like this. I take pride in my cars. I’ve loved everything about them since I was a little kid and since I don’t have a family to support, then why the hell not splurge?

  I sit up straighter as a spot in the traffic opens up and pull into the fast lane, making my way out of the city and through the tunnel to the other side of the town Tris and I grew up in.

  Reaching his gravel driveway and slowing down, I curse as each pebble hits the underside of my car and hope they don’t scratch it. Like I said: I love my cars.

  I park in front of the circular fountain outside of his house and look around. There’s no cars in sight but I hope that just means he’s parked in his garage.

  Getting out, I take the few steps up to the house, not bothering to knock as I open the door and walk on inside.

  “Hello?” My voice rings out in the sparse entryway, bouncing off the cold walls. There are no lights on upstairs so I walk in the direction of the kitchen. “Tris? Izzie? Clay?” I call out, opening the fridge and taking out a bottle of water.

  Where the hell are they at six o’clock at night?

  I open the bottle and take a big swig, catching light out of the corner of my eye coming from the pool house. Amelia. Just the very thought of seeing her smiling face has my back straightening and a smirk twisting the corners of my lips. She’s always so happy and she’s amazing with Izzie and Clay, she has been from the moment she came into their lives.

  Leaving the bottle of water forgotten on the counter, I open up the patio doors into the backyard, following the small circular stones leading the way to the pool house. I knock on the glass door and when there’s no answer, I knock again, waiting.

  Maybe she went out with them and forgot to turn off the light? I crane my head toward one of the windows before trying the door. The handle bends and I stand staring into her personal space.

  “Amelia?”

  When she doesn’t answer I take a step in to see if she has any keys lying around for me to lock up—not that anything would happen in this neighborhood but you can never be too careful.

  I look around the room that’s the complete opposite of my bachelor pad. There’s pink, cream, and white cushions on the sofa and bed that blend in nicely with the light-gray walls, making the small pool house look a lot bigger than it actually is.

  My gaze flits around the room not seeing any keys anywhere, but when I look to my left, I jump, seeing Amelia staring at herself in the bathroom mirror.

  “Amelia?” She doesn’t answer me, her dark-blond hair hanging around her face and her head slightly tilted to the side. She looks like she’s not even in there, like a shell of herself as she stares ahead in her own little world. A shiver runs through me at the sight before I clear my throat thinking I didn’t talk loud enough. “Amelia? Are you alright?”

  Her eyes don’t focus until I move closer and she must see my reflection because her gaze flits to mine, sparking to life. Her mouth opens as she whispers, “Nate? What are you—” She visibly swallows, keeping her eyes connected with mine. “What are you doing?”

  “I, erm…” I get lost in her chocolate-brown eyes and the freckles dotted across her nose for a second. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of Tris for a few days now. He’s been seeing the messages but not replying to me.” I’m not sure if she’s even listening, but I continue anyway. “I wanted to swing by and see if everything was alright, but no one’s here. It’s like a ghost town in that house but I saw your light on and came on over.”

  She slowly turns around, leaning against the sink as her chest rises and falls. “He took the kids out.” She pauses, her eyes narrowing on me before she looks away, staring at something behind me. “You should go.”

  I peer behind me, trying to find what she’s focusing on. I ignore her comment as I see the package sitting on her coffee table. “I thought you were out with them, I was going to lock up for you.” I start to move toward the box. “Order anything nice?”

  As my hand reaches out toward it, she screeches and dodges around me. “No! Don’t touch it!” Her voice breaks as she shouts as loud as she can, making my steps stall.

  I chuckle at her outburst, teasing her. “Don’t touch what?”

  “I’m serious, Nate,” she warns, her voice lowering as she grabs my bicep, her fingers gripping me hard. “Please don’t, it’s… it’s private.”

  I look down at her hand on my shirt, smirking. “If you wanted to touch me, all you had to do was ask.” She doesn’t move her frantic gaze from mine. “What’s so special about this box? You been ordering something dirty?”

  Her eyes flash as I reach out for it again. “Stop!” She pushes me away as my fingertips graze the cardboard, her voice and movements desperate.

  My jo
ker side takes a step back when I realize she’s being deadly serious and not laughing along with me. She tries to push me toward the door but I swirl her around, taking control of the situation. I was only messing around but it doesn't look like she found it very funny.

  I press her up against the wall to my right, holding her wrists on either side of her head. “Amelia, calm down. It’s only a box.”

  Her breath catches as our chests touch, her gaze not moving from mine as she seems to gasp for her next breath. “It’s…” Her eyes search mine, looking for something before she flits her gaze away and whispers, “It’s private, Nate.” Her head shakes, a small movement that if I wasn’t watching her so closely, I wouldn’t have known she did. She kicks up the corners of her full lips, putting on a fake smile I can see right through. “You have no boundaries, you know that?” Her eyes connect with mine again, only this time she’s placed her shutters down, not letting me see what she’s really thinking.

  I loosen my grip on her wrists but I don’t move away. “I wasn’t actually going to look inside, that’s your business.”

  We stare at each other for a few beats, a weird tension passing between us. I’ve seen the looks she’s thrown my way and I can’t say I haven’t been throwing flirtatious vibes right back at her. Something's changed but I can’t quite put my finger on it. I mean, I’ve always been attracted to her but back when she first started working here she was an eighteen-year-old live wire compared to the woman she’s growing into now six years later.

  “Are you alright?” I ask, my voice low. “Can I step away without you freaking out again? I promise I won’t go near the box and reveal your dirty secret.” I wink at her and my gaze flicks down to her throat as she swallows, fascinated at nearly being able to see the beat of her pulse through her skin.

  “I—yeah,” she stammers, blowing out a breath, her hair flicking out of her face with the force. She touches her cheeks, the slight shaking in her hands not going unnoticed. I want nothing more than to ask her what’s going on, to make sure she’s okay. But something in her eyes stops me.