Chapter Seven
FOUR GLASSES, LIFTED HIGH, clinked against each other. Champagne bubbles foamed over the rims and streaked down the stems of the flutes.
“Cheers to Street Legal,” Simon Kramer said, pride for the firm overwhelming him. Sixteen years ago, as a teenage runaway, he’d never thought he would go from living on the streets to owning them.
“Cheers to us,” Ronan, one of Simon’s law partners, said with a grin as he clinked his glass against theirs again.
“Cheers to you, Trev,” Stone said to Trevor, who’d just won the biggest case their practice had ever had. And the four of them had had some damn big cases since graduating law school and starting their practice eight years ago.
After this win, they could close the doors of Street Legal and live off the settlement. But Simon knew that the others were like him: too young and too ambitious to stop achieving. And yet Simon wanted to make sure they took the time to enjoy their victories. So he’d talked his partners into leaving the office to celebrate at the new bar around the corner, The Meet Market.
This victory was especially sweet because Trev had won despite the opposing counsel getting their hands on information from the case files. Simon, as the managing partner, had put a plan in place so that would not happen again. If the mole was in their office, he would find it and crush it.
Trevor murmured, “I still want to know how the hell Anderson got his hands on that scientist’s report.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Simon said. He’d also set up this celebration because they all needed to blow off some steam. Or get blown...
Ronan glanced away from the women he’d been ogling to agree. “Don’t give it another thought. It’s not like we have a leak in our office, not with Simon doing all the hiring. Nobody can sniff out a con like a con. And our managing partner is the ultimate con.”
Instead of being offended, Simon grinned. He wouldn’t have survived had he not come up with money-making schemes for himself and for these guys. His friends had once been runaways, too. Simon had been running cons long before he’d met them.
“No, it’s more likely Trev brought home some hottie who, after he rolled over and fell asleep, copied the case files he brought home,” Ronan said.
Simon laughed. “You guys fall asleep?”
He couldn’t sleep with anyone else around. He wouldn’t have survived on the streets if he’d trusted just anyone. Only these guys passed his test. They’d survived the streets together. Hell, they’d thrived. They had more money, fancier homes, faster cars and hotter women than any of them could have imagined having.
“I wish that’s what happened,” Trev said. “But this damn case put a hell of a crimp in my love life.”
“That’s why I thought we should check out this new bar,” Simon admitted. Trying to figure out who was the mole had put a crimp in his sex life, too.
The Meet Market was exactly what it boldly claimed to be: the hookup hub of Midtown Manhattan. All the beautiful people were here: models, actors and actresses, designers...
And them. The most successful and notorious lawyers in the whole damn city.
Simon clinked his glass against Trevor’s. “You won the case, so forget about it. Have some fun.”
Trevor grinned. “I plan on it. But Ronan’s right. We need to be careful about who we bring home or at least around our files.”
Stone nodded in agreement. “Yes, because if word gets out that anything got leaked to the opposing counsel, we’ll need to hire that damn PR firm to help with our image.”
Since the age of social media, most cases were tried before they ever made it to court, which was why they routinely used a PR firm to help sway the public the way they wanted them swayed. To their side, of course.
Ronan chuckled. “Like there’s any helping our image...”
They were known for being ruthless—in the courtroom and the bedroom. They all had a reputation for winning, by whatever means necessary. But in Simon’s opinion, that was a cause for pride, not damage control.
“We’re fine, guys,” Simon assured his partners. “I got this.” He gestured at the women around them. “Now, let’s get one of them...”
“Just one?” Ronan asked with a grin as he watched a blonde walk past him, tossing her long, curly mane over her shoulder. Before heading after her, he slapped Trevor on the back. “Want me to see if she has a friend for you? Si’s right. You need to relieve some stress after winning that case.”
Trevor glanced across the room at a redhead. “I don’t need your help.” He blew out a ragged breath. “But I do need to relieve some stress.”
Stone bumped Simon’s shoulder with his. “Looks like Si here could use some help.”
Ronan snorted. “Si needs no one’s help when it comes to women. He’s the worst womanizer of the four of us.”
Simon didn’t know whether that was a compliment or insult. Coming from the notorious divorce lawyer, it was probably a compliment. But before he could ask, Ronan hurried after the blonde who’d paused in the doorway, waiting for him to follow her.
“You
