Leigh’s heels clacked on the restored oak floor as she made her way down the corridor. The law firm occupied just over half of a four-thousand-square-foot building. Upstairs was a two-man accounting shop, and a space at the very back of the building was leased by a private investigator who mostly kept to himself. It was an amicable arrangement, but at any given moment at least one of the office suites was undergoing some sort of maintenance.

Leigh stepped into her office, which had a lovely view of an ivy-covered wall. After finding the building, Leigh’s partner had gotten first dibs on the front office, which suited Leigh fine. She didn’t want a front-facing window where any creep on the street could peer in at her while she worked.

Leigh’s office was small, but sumptuously furnished with a blue velvet sofa and a brown leather armchair arranged around a coffee table. Her desk was tucked into the corner, almost like an afterthought. On the end table was an amber-shaded lamp and a box of tissues. The room was designed to be soothing, like a therapist’s office. Many of Leigh’s clients showed up distraught and needed calming. Often, she was their last stop on a desperate journey.

Leigh set her satchel on the coffee table and sank onto the sofa to kick off her shoes. Groaning, she rubbed the balls of her feet. The pointy heels killed, but she’d long ago decided they were worth it. They gave her a couple inches of height and distracted male attorneys while she stuck it to them in court.

On a good day. Unlike today.

She leaned her head back against the cushion and slurped her Frappuccino, letting the creamy chocolate goodness take her mind off her afternoon.

Javier stuck his head in the doorway. “How’d it go with Thielman?” His gaze fell on her Frappuccino. “Oh, shit. That bad?”

She answered with a long slurp that gave her a brain freeze.

Javi stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. Leigh’s partner wore a custom-tailored blue dress shirt and espresso-colored slacks. Even at three in the afternoon, the creases looked sharp enough to cut butter.

“What happened?” he asked.

“He granted the TRO.”

His dark eyebrows arched. “Hey, that’s good.”

“He denied our request to make him take down the posts. Doesn’t want to violate his First Amendment rights.” Leigh rolled her eyes, making the head freeze worse.

“Well, it’s Thielman. What’d you expect?”

“I expected to convince him! I made a damn good argument.”

“I’m sure you did.”