Page 53 of Reckless Chance

“Nor should you, but right now, the most important thing to remember is that Mr. Brentwood’s death wasn’t your fault. You’re going to help his family and make sure no one else is hurt. That’s all you can do. We’ve got this.”

Lowri’s voice is soothing, and her hands send a warmth through me.

I haven’t felt supported in a long time—not since losing my parents.

Subconsciously, I twist the cufflinks that belonged to Dad. If he could handle this place, so can I, particularly with Lowri on my team.

31

LOWRI

Emily signals that our unexpected visitors are waiting in the conference room.

As Sean and I walk down the hall, butterflies flutter rampantly in my stomach. Why is this happening? It’s normal to be slightly anxious before meetings with people who want something from my clients. This time I’m outright nervous.

Then it hits me. It’s because this feels personal. I witnessed the accident, and Sean is a friend andtechnicallyalso my husband. My job is to protect him. I don’t want to let him down. What if I’m not experienced enough? In situations like this, clients always want a law firm partner, not a mere associate like me.

Why am I second-guessing myself? My experience is more than sufficient, and Sean insisted he wants me as his attorney. He trusts me.

Deep breath. Slow exhale.

It’s time for my professional side to shine. I can help Sean. There’s no room for emotions or self-doubt. This is another reason I shouldn’t be mixing business with pleasure. Oh well, it’s too late to back out now, so I plaster on my game face.

I can do this.

Approaching the glass-walled meeting space, two men come into view. The one wearing an ill-fitting navy suit is pacing. The second man is well put together in his snugly fitting polo and khakis. He’s seated, nervously tapping his fingers on the conference table. Hmm.

Sean opens the door with authority, saying, “Good afternoon, I’m Sean Cartwright, owner of the Grand Athena. This is Lowri Upton, our legal counsel.”

The suit guy walks over, taking Sean’s extended hand and then mine. His hand is clammy and limp. Yuck. It takes all my willpower not to dry my palm on my suit skirt.

“I’m Taylor Williams and this is my client, Troy Galanis. Troy is Mr. Brentwood’s heir. Mr. Brentwood was the love of Troy’s life. We’re here to discuss how quickly you can pay Mr. Galanis the money he’s due for his loss.”

Sean’s eyebrows jump up. I’m surprised as well. What an abrupt way for an attorney to ask for a settlement.

“Mr. Galanis, let me first offer you our sincere condolences for your loss. It was a tragic accident. We understand this is an extremely difficult time for you,” Sean says.

“Yes. Immensely difficult,” Mr. Galanis says, staring at his clasped hands.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Williams. We’re hoping you can fill in some missing details about Mr. Brentwood. Do you know how he came to be at the show that evening?” I ask.

“Why do you care?” Mr. Williams asks.

“He had a special ticket for that performance. Whoever sat in that seat would be invited to participate in the show. We’re trying to determine how Mr. Brentwood got that ticket. Do you know?”

“I think someone gave it to him,” Mr. Galanis says.

“Why didn’t you join him at the show?” I ask.

“He only had one ticket.”

“Did he say who gave him the ticket?” I ask.

“No. I had other plans that night. It didn’t matter to me,” Mr. Galanis says with a flick of his wrist.

“Can we move on from these irrelevant questions and get down to business now?” Mr. Williams asks, leaning forward and placing his forearms on the table.

“Certainly. Tell us what you wanted to discuss today,” Sean says.