Page 29 of The Suit

Penn was currently being primed to take over his grandfather’s sprawling conglomerate, made up of some of the world’s largest businesses across real estate, tech, healthcare, multimedia, and casinos. He was due to take full control early next year, and as the only male in his family it was something he’d known would happen since he’d been a boy. To say he didn’t want the job would be a massive understatement, and it was well known within the family, plus Murray and me, that Nancy – Penn’s eldest sister – was the one who really wanted to lead.

“Maybe he’s giving Nancy a division to run?”

Penn stroked the stubble on his cheek as he thought, “Yeah, maybe. I dunno something just feels off; it’s all a bit too secretive, I only found out about a couple of them because I was in the office when I wasn’t planning to be.”

“Have you asked them?”

“No. I didn’t want to incase what they’re plotting is me taking over early.” He grinned, then slapped his knee. “Right, enough work chat. You’re both coming to the Yankees/Dodgers game on Memorial Weekend, right? That game is going to be a fucking doozy. Now the Yankees have seen sense and are starting Ace Watson as pitcher, we haven’t lost a game. Have you noticed?”

To say it was an understatement that Penn didn’t want to work for his company was one thing, to say Penn had a lifelong obsession with baseball, specifically the Yankees, was an even greater one. The world’s biggest.

Aside from the three of us, maybe two of his four sisters, Murray’s dog Barclay, Bell, his mom, and his grandparents, there was nothing Penn loved more than baseball.Nothing. He owned season tickets for the Yankees, went to every home game and several of the away games. One of the reasons the three of us bought our plane was so Penn could take it at a moment’s notice if he found himself with time to spare one evening during the calendar.

“Yes, he’s having a good season so far. Rumor has it the Dodgers are eyeing him up.” Murray grinned as I groaned, shooting him a look.

Here we go.

“You have GOT to me KIDDING me!” Down went Penn’s glass as he slammed it on the table, miraculously not shattering it, and channeling McEnroe better than my dad had. “They are NOT taking him! We’ve just got him!”

I took Penn’s phone from him before he could fire off a drunken email to the Yankees’ owners, GM, and coach, which he’d been known to do on several occasions in the past when they made a decision/trade/buy that he didn’t agree with. Murray and I were never sure whether he got responses, but it didn’t seem to stop him doing it again.

“Hey, just passing along what I heard on the grapevine,”

By grapevine, Murray meant Drew and Emerson Crawley, good friends of his through his brothers-in-law, Jasper and Cooper, who Drew used to play professional ice hockey with. However, any baseball news would have come from Emerson whose brother, Jupiter Reeves, played third baseman for the Dodgers. Something else Penn was sore about. Jupiter Reeves was a lifelong Dodger - usually winner of one MVP or another, and currently being predicted for Hall of Fame this year. Penn wanted him in New York playing for the Yankees, something that was very unlikely to happen. And also something he could do nothing about.

“Great, now he’s sulking.” I complained to Murray as Penn huffed on his chair, with what I swear was a protruding bottom lip but I couldn’t be certain as they kept the lighting moody in here.

“Pennington, at least it’s not the Lions. And Murray is teasing you anyway, he knows no such thing.” I smacked Murray’s arm. “Tell him.”

But Murray merely grinned wider, just as my phone lit up.

Dover:11.30pm.

And suddenly I had no interest in this line of conversation any longer.

“That’s my cue to leave. I still have some work to do and then should probably get a power nap in,” I winked at them as I stood up, slinging my jacket over one shoulder. I looked at Murray but pointed to Penn who was still sulking, and no doubt plotting how he’d make sure a trade didn’t happen. “Murray, do not leave him like this.”

“I won’t,” he said, taking Penn’s phone from me. “See you tomorrow. Brunch?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Then we’ve got Rory’s game late afternoon if you’re in?”

An hour later I was back in my office, already having checked on Cody, because apart from him everyone had gone home for the day, or off out to enjoy their Friday nights. On Fridays, the work day at Van Lancey’s ended at four p.m. and there were usually sprints for the doors. I still had work to do on a couple of clients I’d neglected this week due to Johnson Maynard, or rather his legal representative, but I had a few hours to kill before Dover would be at my place. My cock was already buzzing in anticipation.

Sabrina had laid out the files on my desk, but I reached for one which had been set aside from the rest. One she’d placed a sticky note on top of.

Boss, you’re not going to like this.

I frowned, opening it up to find the court filings for the restraining order, and someone had taken a big red marker crossing over the page like it was a treasure map; X marks the spot. Except it didn’t. I looked at the name on the top - this was the copy sent to Feather Smythe Jones and Partners. Didn’t take me any guesses to know who that someone was.

The calm that had buoyed me since I’d left the boys was washed away in a mist the same color as the marker.

What I should have done was say‘Fuck it,’because it didn’t matter, because the court had a copy, and it was Friday night. But as I’d had three Old Fashioneds on an empty stomach, and I’d never taken the sensible route when Beulah Holmes was concerned, I snatched up my keys and marched out the door, my chair crashing to the floor from the speed and rage at which I’d jumped out of it.

It was nine thirty p.m. on a Friday night, yet even as I stormed around to her office, I knew she’d be there. She didn’t strike me as the sort of person who had a social life. Even at college she was always alone, except for those times I’d see her walking with that weird chemistry major, and then I’m sure it was only because he was on the library rotation, and probably had a key to let her in out of hours.

The foyer of FSJ was lit up like the Chrysler Building, and there should have been a security guard on the doors and the reception desk, but no one was in sight. I continued my march right into the elevator, the now crumpled restraining order still held tightly in my fist. When the doors opened on her floor, my strides held firm as I stalked down the hallway to the room I’d seen her walk out of two days ago.

Then… I halted in my tracks.

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