Page 1 of Kidnapped Bratva Toy
Chapter 1 - Billie
It was highly possible that if I continued to stare at this paperwork, I would go blind. The words were starting to blur together, and I yawned so hard my jaw cracked. But I couldn’t be that upset, now could I? I’d won the case. This was just the aftermath, the necessary admin to ensure all my ducks were in a row.
Leaning back to stretch, my chair creaked loudly beneath me. It was clearly feeling just as rickety as I was. I did the bullshit eye-refocusing exercise I’d read somewhere ages ago that said you should look at something twenty feet away every twenty minutes for twenty seconds.
At least, I thought that’s what it said. Who knows?
The small office was cramped and heavy. All the tight confines and dark colors were pressing in on me. There was too much furniture for how small it was. My desk, made of thick, dark brown wood that had seen better days, took up nearly half the room. Like everything in here, it was a hand-me-down from the previous occupant, who went on to bigger and better things.
Well, I hoped they did. I never knew the lawyer who sat here before me. For all I know, he was fired for losing too many cases.
The cream-colored wallpaper, textured with rough lines that ran down from the ceiling to the halfway point where it hit the chair rail, was a little too yellow now. The chair rail was deep wood paneling, and several abstract paintings hung sporadically around the room above it.
They were those cheesy, universal semi-water colors, except, of course, they were printed. They didn’t look like anything, just swirls of complementary colors designed to complement the room and make it look less sterile. It didn’t really help, though.
I flicked my attention to the clock in the lower right-hand corner of my monitor. It was well past the typical EOD hour I was used to, and I really should be heading home.
Hell, you should be celebrating, Billie. You won. A huge one at that. God, if he doesn’t make me partner…
But, of course, Nicholas has me prepping for the next “career-making” case even before the current one is officially closed. My fingers were getting stiff, and I shut the folder of previous case details.
A twinge of pain flickered through my arm right at the crook of my elbow. I’d been writing and typing too much, and even my nerves were protesting at this point.
Hammer vs. the State of Illinois is now done. Mrs. Hammer won her lawsuit against the Department of Transit for discrimination, and she’s sitting on a fat check and exposure of her office’s sexist behavior. Well done, Sheena.
Tucking my hair behind my ear absent-mindedly, I glanced down around my shoulders and realized several curls had come loose from the low bun at the back of my head. I’d been sticking my fingers between the strands near the front as I rested my head in my hand, and, of course, the professional styling had suffered for it.
“Damn, unruly bastards.”
Reaching around for the elastic that secured my bun, I sighed. My curls were always tough to tame, but I’d learned long ago that, for some reason, bosses and clients looked at curly hair like it was wild and unkempt if let down. Only straight hair still looked “put together” when worn loose.
My neck was sore, too, and I couldn’t stop myself from rubbing it, kneading my fingers into the base of my skull.
Realizing it was well past home time, I took my hair down with a satisfying scratch of my scalp. My hair snagged on a jagged part of my nail. I really needed a damn manicure, but again, who has time for that?
Examining my cuticles and the chipped clear polish, I had to admit they were pretty bad, and I should at least clean them up at home.
“Billie.” Nicholas’s voice cut through the quiet of my office, and I looked up at him, trying my best to look less bedraggled than I felt.
“Hi, Mr. Cohen. I’m just finishing up with Hammer, and I’ve already pulled the documents for the upcoming racketeering case you assigned me.”
My smile felt forced because I was just so damn tired, and Nicholas was far from understanding about needing sleep. He walked closer to my desk, plucking the folder for my newest assignment off the leather blotter I’d put down to add some apparent flare and slipping it under his arm.
“You’re not on that anymore. I’m assigning it to someone else. Here.” He offered a new manilla folder, and with little other choice, I took it from him. “You’ll be working on this one, Labriola vs. Delirium.”
My mouth fell open as I settled the folder down in front of me. I’d been working hours, staying well past “late” to get everything sorted for the racketeering case, and now I was just…off it.
“Mr. Cohen, I…” I looked down, trying to think of a polite way to say what the hell? “I’ve been working on the Randolf case for the past four hours as I finished the paperwork for Hammer. I’ve already familiarized myself with the details. I’ve contacted the precinct to ask for their evidence.”
Nicholas just glared down at me, sighing as he crossed his arms over his chest. He chewed the inside of his cheek before tipping his head down, leveling me with his look of annoyance.
“You’re off it, Billie. I’ll have Benjamin inform all parties that he will take the case moving forward. You’re on this.”
Leaning forward, Nicholas tapped his pointer finger on the Labriola folder.
“It’s the top priority, and I expect you to give it all your time and focus.”
I got cases assigned by either Nicholas or Mark, the other partner. Still, I had to admit that his hand-delivering a folder and proclaiming its importance was new.