Heart of Stone

“She was lovely. You look like her.” The compliments were honest, and Margrit offered another smile along with them, stepping back from the desk. “I really don’t mind waiting. Just a few minutes of his time, maybe?”

Vanessa Gray the younger pursed her thin lips and nodded very subtly toward a chair. Margrit took the victory, smiled again and retreated to await her chance.

“Miss Knight. What a pleasure to meet you.” Eliseo Daisani came around a marble desk that would fill Margrit’s bedroom, and offered her a hand, clasping hers in both of his when she took it. He was barely taller than she was, wiry in build, and his hands were disconcertingly hot.

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Daisani.” Margrit spoke with a degree of reservation. “I appreciate you sharing a few minutes of your time.”

“When the rising star of the city’s Legal Aid Society comes knocking on my door, I am of course predisposed to discover her mission.” Daisani winked, making fun of himself. He was too thin for good looks, but his grin was disarming and he clearly knew it. Despite herself, Margrit smiled.

“I think you probably know why I’m here, Mr. Daisani.”

“Of course I do. It’s the price of being me. Someone has to be aware of all these details, and I was the best man for the job. Please, won’t you sit down?” He ushered her to a love seat coupled with a couch in front of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. “Isn’t the view tremendous?” he asked, sounding as if he’d called it up especially for her. “Some days I don’t get any work done at all, just looking down at the city. Well, between that and the books.” He gestured easily at the far end of the office, which was walled to the ceiling with pale wooden shelves filled with hundreds of books, interspersed with decorative objects. “May I get you some water?”

“Yes, please. Do you mind?” She gestured toward the bookshelves in turn, taking a step or two in their direction. Daisani made a generous, expansive hand wave, inviting her to look as he went to a wet bar at the other end of the enormous office. “I don’t have that problem,” Margrit added as she approached the shelves. “My office is a cubicle in the middle of a building. Is that a Rodin?”

“It is.” Daisani sounded pleased as he joined her, offering a glass that gave a low, subtle ring of sound as Margrit took it. Crystal, she thought, trying not to look as startled as she felt. Of course it would be crystal. Nothing in Daisani’s office was of a halfway measure. “You have an excellent eye, Miss Knight.”

“I’ve never even seen photos of this before. It looks like an early sculpture of The Secret.” Margrit reached out to touch the marble hands, clasped together in silent eternity. “I didn’t know he’d done more than one version. I should be so lucky as to have knickknacks like yours, Mr. Daisani.” She turned her head, studying a pair of soft-looking furs pinned to the wall at the end of the shelves. One was much smaller than the other, and a thread of cool wariness slipped through Margrit. Daisani was a hunter, and apparently didn’t care if his prey was a mother with child. She turned her gaze back to him, keeping her expression neutral.

Daisani beamed at her. “An excellent eye,” he repeated. “I’ll be certain to arrange for a much better view.” Margrit blinked at him and his eyebrows—dark, inquisitive—rose. “In your new office.”

“My what?”

“Your new office.” Daisani’s eyebrows went higher, as if he was surprised it was necessary to explain. “As counsel for Daisani Incorporated, of course. You didn’t think I’d put you in a cubicle, did you? In this building?” He twirled a finger, making it clear the whole building was at his disposal.

“Counsel for what?” Margrit could feel heat building in her cheeks, a distressing indicator that she’d been outplayed and was too startled to react quickly. “I’m sorry, what?”

Daisani smiled beatifically, leaning on his desk as he reached for his own water. He crossed one ankle over the other, his polished leather shoes so bright that they caught Margrit’s attention as easily as they bounced the light. “It’s an excellent, excellent time to make a play for moving up in the world. I absolutely approve. It’s been, what, three, going on four years now, of Legal Aid? A number of minor victories and a few setbacks, though those are to be expected. But now with the Johnson case making headlines, you’ve paid your dues. You may, of course, want to take on one more case, just so it’s not quite so obvious that it’s time to pay off the bills now. Wouldn’t you say? As it happens, I’m delighted to tell you that I have an opening extraordinarily well suited for your skills.”

He leaned forward from the waist, flashing a conspiratorial grin. “And to your temperament, Miss Knight. It’s a noble pursuit, wanting to help those less fortunate than you are, but you needn’t live in near poverty yourself to do it. In fact, your address may be a touch unfashionable. After an appropriate amount of time we’ll certainly want to discuss moving you to, oh, say, the Upper East Side?” He came upright again, his shoulders back and spine straight, the posture of a confident man.

Margrit swallowed, folding her hands around the crystal glass carefully. “I’m a far cry from living in poverty, Mr. Daisani. I’m not here about a job.”

“Of course you are. This is anaudition. You just don’t realize it yet, Miss Knight. The idealists rarely do.” Daisani lifted a finger, then laid it alongside his nose, like a swarthy Santa Claus. “It’s all right. I won’t hold it against you.”

A little bubble of anger heated up inside Margrit’s belly. It stiffened her spine and shut her expression down into something neutral. Daisani saw it, too, and laughed, leaning toward her again. “I’ve offended you.”

“Not at all.” Margrit worked to keep emotion out of her voice. “But I think I’ve learned what I needed to know.”

“Oh, no.” Daisani’s voice dropped, smoothing out like cream and sugar. “No, Miss Knight, I don’t think you have at all.” Magnanimity suddenly splashed back into him and he spread his hands, a welcoming gesture. “But you will, and I’m positively fascinated to see how that turns out. The job offer still stands, Miss Knight. For a little while, at least.”

“At least until I’ve taken that one more case?” Margrit asked, the words coming out thin. “The one that’s for show, so I don’t look like I’m abandoning the cause too easily?”

“At least that long,” Daisani agreed. “Think how pleased your parents will be, Miss Knight. Moving up in the world. Focusing on problems that are really more suited for your intelligence and passion, rather than taking on hard-luck cases for a fraction of what you’re worth. Please,” he added, “do tell your mother hello the next time you speak with her. Delightful woman. Uncanny insight into the fluctuations of the stock market. If she were a shade less ethical you’d be absurdly wealthy.” Daisani tapped the end of his nose, winking again. “And I know from absurdly wealthy, Miss Knight. It’s been a delight meeting you. Let me escort you out.”

“That’s all right.” Margrit put on a quick smile and hoped it warmed her eyes. “I can find my own way, and I think your assistant would take umbrage at the personal attention.”

Daisani laughed and gave a half bow, then waved his hand toward the door. “As you wish, Miss Knight. Good afternoon.”

EIGHT

“I’LL TAKE THE case.” Margrit stood in Russell’s doorway again, clenching her fists into knots and loosening them again. Eliseo Daisani’s cool assumption of her reason for being at his offices rankled, driving her to take a stance she wasn’t wholly convinced she should. Still, the decision was made, and Margrit hated second-guessing herself. “I’m going to need help, Russell. This isn’t my area of expertise.”

“You’ve mentioned that several times today.” Her boss put his elbows on his desk and leaned forward, smiling. “I knew you’d come around. I’ve talked to Nichole about being second counsel, and she’s fine with that.”

“Is she? Or is she putting on a good show?”

“Either way.” Russell shrugged. “You’re going to be very short on time with this project, Margrit. Eliseo Daisani is used to getting his own way, and his pockets run deep.”

“So I’ve seen,” Margrit said under her breath, feeling a fresh wash of insult and irritation. “I’ll get started this afternoon, but I’m leaving on time, Russell. I’ve got a date tonight.” Her phone was still in hand, the call from Tony having caught her on the stairs as she’d reentered the Legal Aid Society building. Still bubbling with outrage over Daisani’s offer, Margrit had had to rein herself in to keep from snapping at the detective and refusing his offer of dinner out that evening. It was dismaying that her comfort with him made him the easiest target to lash out at when frustration took her. They’d gotten back together often enough that she must think it safe, but it wasn’t the way to have a peaceful relationship.

Peaceful. The word made her cringe. It suggested no challenges, which was both unrealistic and inappropriate. But certainly there had to be a degree of peacefulness, to let them continue forward. The danger was in only being a couple when there was peace between them, and that seemed too close to what they had.

“Tony?” At Margrit’s nod, Russell smiled. “Glad things are working out.”

She lifted a shoulder and let it fall, dismissing the question of whether things were working out, then sighed. “I’ll be here twenty-four-seven after tonight.”

“Promise me you’ll at least go home to shower,” Russell said. “Please. For all our sakes.” He tipped his chin toward the hall behind her. “Go on. You’ve got a lot of work to do, and I expect brilliance, Counselor.”

“He actually had the balls to say it, Cole. Russell said I was good for the case because I’m black. He actually said that. And then. Then.” Outrage had her in its grasp again, Cole the unwary mark who’d asked how her day had gone. Margrit stood before her closet, eyebrows knit together so hard her head ached. “Dammit, I don’t have anything to wear!”

Cole leaned in her bedroom doorway, watching her warily as he thumped a wooden spoon against his shoulder. “You could go like that. I’m sure Tony would appreciate it.”

Margrit scowled at him. “I am not going on a date in a sports bra and running tights.”

“You going to take all this moodiness out on Tony? I thought you two were trying to patch it up.” Her housemate pushed away from her door and stepped across the piles of clothes that littered the floor. “I don’t understand how someone with a mind as orderly as yours can live in a room as messy as this one. And then what?”

“A clean desk is a sign of a cluttered mind,” Margrit muttered. She sat down on her bed, surrounded by lumps of discarded clothing, and put her face in her hands. “Then I went to see Eliseo Daisani.”

“You what?” Cole turned away from her closet, spoon lifted like a ceremonial spear. “You what?”

“I went to see Eliseo Daisani,” Margrit repeated. “He knows my mother.”

“How?”

“I have no idea! He offered me a job!”

Cole put his spoon hand against the closet as if he needed the physical support. “Eliseo Daisani offered you a job?”

Margrit looked up through her fingers. “Yeah.” “Did you say yes?” “Of course not!”

“Margrit! He’d pay you half a million dollars a year! What’d you say?”

She snorted and flopped violently onto her back. “And move me to the Upper East Side. What do you think I said?”

Cole shook his head and turned his attention back to her closet, rifling through it. “I think you went back to work and said to your racist boss you’d take the case against Daisani, despite it not being your area of expertise, and despite your fears about how it’ll play to the media. Grit, you’ve got more clothes than Cameron and me put together. How can you have nothing to wear?”

“Those ones are all dirty!” Margrit pointed accusingly at her closet without looking at it. “And those ones are all—wrong!” She smacked the pile beside her, then shoved it away as she scowled. “And that’s exactly what I did. He’s not racist,” she added in another mutter. “He’s playing the advantages he has, and it pisses me off.”