Page 1 of Worth the Risk

CHAPTER 1

Taylor

FIVE YEARS EARLIER…

“Ithink we both know this interview is merely a formality.”

I smile politely at Dawson Metzler, one of the three named partners at Metzler, Dodson & Dodson, a prestigious firm I’ve been interning at during law school. One of the big three in Chicago that any lawyer would kill to work at, let alone a first-year graduate.

“Well, I appreciate that vote of confidence, Mr. Metzler, and I really cannot thank you enough for allowing me to intern here. I feel like it’s been an invaluable experience that has prepared me greatly.” I attempt to keep my response open-ended because as amazing as this opportunity is, I can’t shake this feeling like I need to take a leap of faith now while I’m young and comparably more dumb than future me.

It’s a known fact you’re more likely to take risks when you’re younger, especially risks that you don’t have the hindsight to understand yet. And maybe that’s just a glorified way of looking at ignorance on my part, but I guess I’d rather live with consequences than regret.

“You’ve been a very valuable asset here, young lady. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we are excited to see where your career takes you.” The smile that takes over his plump face is a bit unnerving, with just enough smarmy lawyer energy to make a tingle run down my spine. “But I won’t take up any more of your time.” He grunts when he stands, his round belly getting in the way as he pulls himself up from his chair.

“Thank you again, very much, and I appreciate all of the sound advice and wisdom you’ve given me over the years. Dodson and Dodson as well.”

“You’re already wise beyond your years, young lady.” He extends his hand toward me and I slip mine into his. He grasps it with both of his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “And whatever job you end up taking, just make sure you enjoy some downtime before jumping in. This career has a tendency to take over your life if you’re not careful.”

Out of the three named partners, Mr. Metzler has always been my favorite. He’s kind but has an edge he isn’t afraid to show if the situation arises. He’s always ready to teach me how or why instead of just showing me or doing the work for me. I truly am sincerely grateful for the opportunity I have had to not only attend a first-tier law school, but to then intern and possibly get a job offer from a top-tier firm. But there’s something inside me… something gnawing at my gut that tells me that while this job might set me up for life, it will never scratch that itch I’ve always had to work with a startup. And if there’s one thing I’ve had drilled into me over the years from every lawyer I’ve met, it’s that if you start out at one of the big firms, the money will suck you in before you even realize it. Any altruistic dreams of helping out your fellow man with pro bono work or getting your hands dirty with a smaller company will go out the window the second you see that first paycheck.

The city whizzes past me as I sit in silence on the train, the conductor’s voice ringing out the next stops overhead as we approach the station. A few people stand and exit the car that’s almost empty, not too rare considering it’s the middle of the afternoon on a workday. I turn my gaze toward my phone, flipping mindlessly through videos on social media.

“Please stand clear. The doors will be closing,” the pre-programmed announcement rings out like it does every time. The doors begin to close with awhooshbut not before someone runs through them in a blur, making it just in the nick of time. I look over at the man who smiles back at me.

“That was close.” He chuckles, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He lets out an audible exhale, running his hands through his disheveled hair before taking a seat a few spots down from me.

I give him a considerate smile before turning my attention back to my phone, a video of a cat tilting its head in all sorts of funny directions as it tries to figure out what exactly a bumblebee is, making me smile. I scroll through a few more videos, the algorithm sending me more funny cat videos and random hidden gem videos around Chicago, something I’ve started taking note of now that my nose isn’t buried in books, prepping for the bar.

I continue scrolling mindlessly until I’m hit with one of my favorite types of videos. A slow sexy sound pumps quietly through my speaker, my finger darting to lower the volume as a man in a suit yanks his tie from his shirt before covering the camera for a second, only to reveal he’s shirtless in the next photo. I’m completely engrossed in my screen; I don’t even notice the strange man on the train looking at me.

“Hi.” I glance up at the man who’s now smiling at me. His gray suit coat is draped over one thigh that extends impossiblylong over the edge of the train seat. I look behind me, then back at him. “Yes, you.” He laughs. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I offer a single wave of my hand awkwardly, unsure if I’m making a huge mistake by engaging with a complete stranger on the train… alone. I’m about to tell him I’m really not interested in joining whatever religion he’s in or supplement he wants me to buy when he continues on.

“How’s your day going?” His smile seems genuine and not creepy. I glance down at his shoes, then notice his watch. Neither are outrageous luxury brands, but they’re nice enough, so I’m surprised to see him riding the train. Usually, men who look and dress like him are the ones climbing out of the back of a sleek black sedan in the financial district.

I shrug. “Okay, I guess. Could be either really good or really bad.”

His brow arches. “Meaning?”

“Well, if you’re insane and here to kill me, then really bad, but if you’re not and I get the job offer I’m expecting after my interview earlier, then really good.” He lets his head fall back as laughter erupts from his chest. It fills the car, echoing around us.

“I promise you I’m not interested in killing you—or anyone for that matter.”

“What about you—how’s your day going?” I’m not sure why I’m continuing the conversation. Maybe because his good looks and charming smile have actually disarmed me or maybe I’m just desperate to talk to anyone so my brain stops spinning in circles.

“Well…” He runs his hand down his smooth jaw like he’s considering my question. I take advantage of the small pause, taking in the rest of his handsome features. His long fingers tap gently on the knee of his clearly expensive suit. I wouldn’t say it’s custom but absolutely tailored and made with quality materials, not off the rack. During my time surrounded by some ofChicago’s most wealthy at Metzler, Dodson & Dodson, I learned to spot high-end from a mile away.

“I guess either really bad… or really good.” He leans back into the seat, looking carefree and relaxed. I give him the same questioning look he gave me a moment ago, encouraging him to explain. “I just got fired from one of—actually,the”—he emphasizes the word by pointing his finger—“top financial firm in Chicago.”

“Oh.” I can’t hide my shock. “I’m sorry. I guess that is really bad.”

“Could be.” He smiles, his sparkling white teeth framed by the most perfect lips I’ve ever seen on a man. Full, even with just a hint of pink. “Or it just might be the start of something that’s going to completely change my life.”

I don’t hide my skepticism. “Are you about to sell me one of those self-help courses where you go to an overpriced conference in an old Las Vegas casino and all practice saying yes to yourself?”

He laughs again, the deep tenor making me feel a little tingly surprisingly.

---