Читать книгу Tempting The Billionaire - Niobia Bryant - Страница 13

Chapter 3

Two weeks later

“Congratulations, Counselor.”

Ngozi finished sliding her files inside her briefcase and then raised her hand to take the one offered by the Brooklyn district attorney Walter Xavier. She had just served him a loss in his attempt to prosecute her client, an ex-FBI agent, for murder. “You didn’t make it easy,” she told him, matching his steady gaze with one of her own.

With one last pump of her hand and cursory nod of his head, the man who was her senior by more than thirty years turned and walked out of the courtroom with several staff members behind him.

Ngozi allowed herself a hint of a smile as she looked down into her briefcase.

“Ayyeeee! Ayyeeee! Ayyeeee!”

“Angel!” Ngozi snapped in a harsh whisper, whirling around to eye her newly appointed personal assistant at her loud cry. She found her arm raised above her head, as if she was about to hit a dance move, which took her aback. A win in the courtroom was not the same as getting “turned up” in the club.

Angel, a twentysomething beauty whose enhanced body made a button-up shirt and slacks look indecent, slowly lowered her hands and smoothed them over her hips.

“Get out,” Ngozi mouthed with a stern look, seeing that other people in the court were openly eyeing them.

“What?” she mouthed back, looking confused as she picked up her fuchsia tote from her seat in the gallery and left the courtroom with a pout.

“Precious Lord,” she mumbled, thankful her client had already been taken back into the holding cell by the court officers.

Ngozi often went above and beyond for her clients, including hiring a former stripper/escort as her personal assistant to meet the requirements of the probation Ngozi was able to secure. At the firm she had her own staff, clerks, paralegals and junior associates, plus an experienced legal secretary. The last thing she needed was a personal assistant—especially one like Angel, who lacked discernment.

Two weeks down, two years to go...

Ngozi gathered the rest of her items and finally left the courtroom. As she made her way through the people milling about the hallway, Angel and her junior associate, Gregor, immediately fell in behind her. Her walk was brisk. She had to get back to the Manhattan office for an appointment with a prospective new client.

She had a rule on no walking and talking outside the offices of Vincent and Associates Law, VAL, so they were quiet. Once they reached the exit on the lobby level, she saw the crowd of reporters and news cameras awaiting her. This was another huge win for her in a controversial case. She felt confident in the navy Armani cap sleeve silk charmeuse blouse, tailored blazer and wide-leg pants she wore. She had self-assuredly and correctly anticipated the win and made sure to be camera ready—which had included an early morning visit from her hairstylist/makeup artist.

“Angel, go mannequin-style and say nothing,” she mumbled to the woman.

“But—”

A stare from Ngozi ended her statement before it even began.

They exited the building and then descended the double level of stairs, with Ngozi in the lead. She stopped on the street and the crowd created a semi-arc around them. “Hello, everyone. I am Ngozi Johns of Vincent and Associates Law. As you know, I am the attorney for Oscar Erscole, who has been successfully exonerated of the charges of murder that were brought against him. After a long and tenuous fight, we are thankful that the jury’s discernment of the facts and the evidence presented in the case has proven what we have always asserted, which is the innocence of Mr. Erscole, who can now rebuild his life, reclaim his character and enjoy his life. Thank you all. Have a good day.”

With one last cordial smile, she turned from them, ignoring the barrage of questions being fired at her as they made their way through the crowd and to their waiting black-on-black SUVs. Ngozi and Angel climbed into the rear of the first one. She pulled her iPhone from her briefcase and began checking her email. “Back to the office, please, Frank,” she said to the driver, working her thumb against the touch screen to scroll.

“Now, Ms. J.?” Angel asked, sounding childlike and not twenty-one years of age.

It wasn’t until the doors were closed and their tinted windows blocked them from view that Ngozi glanced over at Angel and bit the corner of her mouth to keep back her smile. “Now, Angel,” she agreed.

“Ayyeeee! Ayyeeee! Ayyeeee!” Angel said, sticking out her pierced tongue and bouncing around in her seat. “Congrats, boss.”

“Thanks, Angel,” Ngozi said, laughing when she saw the driver, a white middle-aged man who liked the music of Frank Sinatra, stiffen in his seat and eye them in alarm via the rearview mirror.

They continued the rest of the ride in relative silence as Ngozi swiftly responded to emails and took a few calls. When the car pulled to a stop, double-parking on Park Avenue in midtown Manhattan, Ngozi gathered her things back into her briefcase as the driver came around to open the door for her. “Thank you, Frank,” she said, lightly accepting the hand he offered to help her climb from the vehicle and then swiftly crossing the sidewalk with Angel on her heels and the rest of her team just behind her.

They entered the thirty-five-story beaux arts–style building complete with retail and restaurant space on the lower levels and corporate offices on the remaining thirty-three. Everything about the building spoke to its prominence and prestige. After breezing through security with their digital badges, Ngozi and the others traveled up to the twenty-second floor, where Vincent and Law Associates had occupied the entire twenty-two thousand square feet for the last twenty years, housing nearly fifty private offices, a dozen workstations, several conference rooms, a pantry, reception area complete with a waiting space and other areas essential for office work. The offices of the senior partners, including the one her father had vacated upon his retirement, were on half of the floor of the next level up.

Vincent and Associates Law was a force with which to be reckoned. Her father had begun his firm over forty years ago with his expertise in corporate and banking law. Over the years, he acquired smaller firms and attorneys with proven records of success in other specialties to expand and become a goliath in the Northeast and one of the top five hundred law firms in the country.

To know that her father spearheaded such power and prominence made her proud each and every time she walked through the doors. It had been no easy ride for an African American man, and her respect for her father was endless. And she was determined to rightfully earn her spot as a senior partner and claim the office that sat empty awaiting her—when the time was right.