“Yes, sir,” the manager replies, recognising his cue to leave.
Tristan eyes spear me, like he is seeing me in a new light. No hairbrush, no toothbrush, no dignity.
This is not how I wanted to meet Tristan Kane. Not when I look like the Joker.
“I’ll pay you back,” I swallow. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m a member here,” he says dryly. “It’s convenient, being close to the office. I’ve taken my family and friends out for breakfast.” Oh.
I glance over his shoulder to where a table of people are watching us. There’s an older lady, dear Lord, is that his mum? I don’t have my glasses on so she’s a blur. Tristan’s son is sitting on her lap. I recognise Danny Walker, the tech tycoon, and a girl about my age. It must be his sister. The other bloke from the photos, Jack someone, is sitting beside a younger girl. “My two sisters and my mum,” Tristan explains. “It’s Mum’s birthday.” “That’s nice,” I choke out. I smile and wave meekly.
Most of them smile back in amusement. The mum looks appalled.
“Lovely to see you again, Tristan,” Megan jumps in.
He smiles at her then turns back to me. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”
“I’m fine, I can replace my keys and phone. It’s annoying but I’ll live. The only thing that’s hurt is my pride. It seemed like a good idea at the time.” I can’t think of a better explanation.
He rubs his chin. “You could have gone into a police station. They would have driven you home.” Damn. Do they do that? “I thought it needed to be more serious before the police would help.” “You could have called me. I would have collected you.” His jaw flexes. “That’s if you haven’t blocked my number.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think that’s in the scope of the CEO’s role.” Tristan’s not amused.
“Plus, no phone, remember?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose like he has an incoming headache. “You need to go home, Elly,” he says in an accusing tone. “You reek of alcohol, and you only have one functioning shoe. You’re an employee of Madison Legal, this is hardly appropriate behaviour.”
I open my mouth with a comeback, then close it. I’m in no position to take the moral high ground.
He sighs heavily. “I’ll get my driver to take you home.”
“No, it’s fine,” I protest meekly. Actually, that sounds like heaven.
His eyes narrow, daring me to argue.
“That sounds great, thank you.” Faced with his disapproving gaze, I look down in remorse.
He calls his driver, who appears to be outside at his beck and call, as the guy comes through the door at the speed of Superman. “George, take the ladies home, please.” George looks at us like he’s seen it all before.
“I need to get back to the others,” Tristan says. A ghost of a smile flickers on his face. “Try to behave yourself in whatever quarter-life crisis you seem to be having.”
I cringe. “I’ll try.”
“A fucking linen closet,” he mutters, shaking his head as he walks away.
“You might have solved your problem. He probably won’t want to date you after this,” Megan adds unhelpfully.
10
Tristan
“Mr. Kane?”
I snap my eyes up from Elly Andric’s social media profile on my phone. Why did she introduce herself as Elena if all her goddamn social media is under Elly? Her social media seems tame enough, but Sunday morning’s surprise encounter has left me thoroughly confused.
“We have secured the McKenzie case,” Sam says. “They signed the papers today.”
“Good.” I nod. Sam is one of my London managing partners. The McKenzie lawsuit is projected to pull us in 2. 5 million this quarter. “I’ll personally oversee this one,” I say to the boardroom. “Mark McKenzie and I go back years.”
I turn to Liz, head of operations. “What’s the headcount we need on it?”
She squints at her laptop. “Ten senior lawyers, roughly fifteen juniors, a few paralegals supporting for circa six months.”
“We’re at capacity,” Rebecca cuts in. She’s worked for me for fifteen years and she’s the only one who has the guts to question my judgement, on the rare occasion. “Tristan, we need more staff. Right now, the ratio is about one senior lawyer to thirty-two cases. Maybe we should relax our recruitment criteria. Giving one in every forty people we interview a position isn’t efficient.”
“We are not compromising on quality,” I bark back at her. “We are Madison.”
Her lip curls in displeasure. “Then we have to start turning high-profile cases away.”
I exhale heavily. “Can’t Hong Kong take on some of the international ones?” I look to my Hong Kong managing partner across the video link.
“Sir, the Hong Kong office is already on overtime,” she says over the link. “We’re executing an aggressive recruitment campaign but getting bums in seats is difficult.”
“The right bums,” I correct. “What’s the current headcount?”
“Globally 8, 060, give or take,” Simon, head of recruitment, responds. “We need an uplift of ten per cent this year alone in Asia and Europe.”
I rap my knuckles on the desk. “Let’s look at the recruitment budget again. Send me the numbers, Simon.”
“Yes, sir.” He nods.
I turn to Paula, our secretary. “Any more items on the agenda?”
She scrolls down her laptop, brow furrowed. “Rebecca wants to discuss one of the cases under contract negotiation-the Garcia case.”
“That’s right,” Rebecca addresses me. “Tristan, we have to turn it down. We don’t have the headcount. It’s too high profile without the right people on it.”
My eyebrows crease together. “Remind me what it is?”
“Maria Garcia, wife of Rocco Garcia?” she prompts. “She’s seeking asylum in the UK. She claims that she killed Rocco in self-defence by stabbing him with a knife when he attacked her.” “What’s so special about this one?” I ask. I recall snippets of the case.
“Rocco was a famous hotelier across Central and South America,” Liz reads from her laptop. “Maria fled to the UK before the trial claiming she was in danger with the Colombia mafia. She says that Rocco was part of a ring of sex traffickers, and they will kill her because she knows too much. The Colombian government want to expedite her back to Colombia to stand trial for murder.”
The name is familiar. Rocco Garcia… Jack bought two hotels from him a few years back.
“Media coverage is swelling,” Rebecca adds. “But we have to turn it down. Such a pity because these types of cases are perfect for our junior lawyers to shadow on. They don’t come up often.” My spine straightens. “No, let’s not turn it down. I’ll do it.” The entire boardroom looks at me, confused.
“You will do it, sir?” Sam asks.