Page 1 of Flynn

Chapter 1

The place was quiet for a change. She had closed her door and was settled in to do some serious work. The date for the trial against Maurice Daley had finally been set, and she was determined not to miss anything.

She would ensure all the T's were crossed and all the i's dotted. The bastard would not slip through the cracks, and his pricey lawyers would not run hoops around her. They had been piling on motions and delaying the trials for nearly a year. Now, there was enough evidence to take it to trial.

She needed this win. It was personal for her and Rosalyn—the DA and a friend had warned her against it, but it was too late.

"I understand you are going through a lot, honey, but you must put that aside." The older woman gave Ryleigh a sympathetic look that did not bode well with her.

She did not want pity. Six months ago, she had been getting ready for her wedding to a man she thought was in love with her. Her mother told her it was fortunate that it had come out before she married him. And she was trying to see the positive side of it.

She had been portrayed as a naive fool who did not know what was right in front of her. Senator Glen Ritchie had been seeing a lawyer in the DA's office right under her nose.

A male colleague who had pretended to be a friend when all the time he was screwing her fiancé. It was too much to bear. Fortunately, the son of a bitch, had left the DA's office and run off to some obscure town when the scandal hit.

Shaking her head, she was about to open the folder when there was a discreet knock on the door. Stifling a sigh, she called out for the person to come in, her eyes glowing with surprise as Julia Zimmerman came striding in, a smile on her lovely face.

"Julia!"

"My dear, I hope I have not come at an inopportune time. There was no one outside your office-"

"They left for the day. Please, sit. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Don't trouble yourself." She waved a delicate hand and sat in front of the desk, crossing her spectacular legs. Lifting a hand, she brushed back her thick, shoulder-length black hair self-consciously. "You are working late."

"A big trial is coming up." Ryleigh eyed the woman who had become a friend over the past seven months. She had met Julia at several charitable functions the woman was in charge of, and they had become friends.

Ryleigh admired her character strength and genuine love of the 'underdog.' She was still trying to navigate the society she had been thrown into when her son's construction company had taken off.

Flynn Zimmerman was now a multi-billionaire whose construction company had been featured in several financial magazines. Julia had admitted to Ryleigh that she often felt lost. Her son, whom Ryleigh had met briefly at several of those functions, was not one for entertaining and eschewed most of the tasks required for a man of his standing.

"I have been reading about it." She fiddled with the sharp pleat of her skirt.

"Julia, what's going on? It appears you have something on your mind. Why don't you spit it out?"

The woman smiled at her ruefully. "The second thing I noticed and admired about you was your bluntness."

"The first thing being?" Ryleigh asked with a smile.

"Your exquisite beauty. I cannot for the life of me understand why that son of a bitch chose someone-" Her voice petered off as she stared at the mask that came over the younger woman's face. "My dear, I am so sorry. Flynn always says I tend to put my foot in my mouth."

"It's fine." Taking a deep breath, Ryleigh ventured a smile. "It gets better each day. Now, tell me why you are here?"

"I wanted to invite you to the house for lunch or dinner, but I know how busy you are, and I just wanted an answer as soon as possible."

"Answer to what?" Ryleigh asked her, puzzled.

Julia adjusted her skirt again and took a deep breath. "I know you are hurting-"

"Julia-"

"No." She shook her head. "Please. Let me finish. I am asking you to hear me out until the very end, or I will lose the courage to say what I came here to say. Will you do that for me?"

Ryleigh nodded, wondering what could be so daunting that the woman was gathering her courage to say what was on her mind. "Of course."

"I confided in you what happened with Flynn. He was in a similar situation to yours, and it has hardened him; I don't blame him. He is still not over what that - that greedy, selfish bitch - pardon my French, did to him. And my brother-" She shook her head.

"I don't want to go over it again because it makes me so sick to my stomach that I cannot stand it. Anyway, Flynn is thirty-five years old, and he needs an heir.

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