Page 16 of The Suit

Unfortunately, Manhattan was not that large.

Beulah was also not the sort of person who’d make the calls; she’d get one of her minions to do it. This was the start of a game, and I’d had years of practice in dealing with Beulah’s games.Years.

I sat down at my desk, flicking the Post-It between my fingers while I stared out at the city below. My firm had started out as the pro-bono division of Latham’s. When I’d graduated and started working with my father, I’d done what any new law grad needed to do – clock up some hours in pro-bono to get through the bar. However, what I’d never expected was to fall in love with it as much as I did. Helping people, the diversity of the work and cases, the learning. It was what everyone should be doing, except the salaries were usually shit so once they’d done a stint they’d inevitably drift to the big firms to pay back their massive student loans.

So I petitioned my father. I argued my case that he let me work solely in pro-bono. He agreed to one year, except after that one year I pleaded a new case – that he let me take the division and create a whole firm from it. I’d turned twenty-five on my last birthday, at which point I’d taken control of my full inheritance; made up of several billion dollars left to me in a trust by my mom’s grandparents - consisting of stock, cash, property funds, as well as smaller investments in tech and futures. I proposed to him that I would fund the non-profit like a big tier firm and use one of my properties as the location. My warehouse in Soho would be the perfect fit. I’d build a firm from his firm, as he’d built Latham’s from his father’s before him.

I’d never been a nail biter, but the two weeks he’d taken to make a decision almost had mine down to the quick. I’d used the time to devise several other arguments for him to agree in case he didn’t the first time around. I hadn’t needed to worry. He agreed on two conditions; one, that we would stay in the Latham offices for three years under his supervision, and two, I had to keep him on in a consulting capacity, something I would have begged him for anyway. I wasn’t about to turn down free access to one of the best legal minds in America.

And so my non-profit was born – Van Lancey’s – named after my mom’s parents. Before I could plough my money in, Murray re-invested my inheritance so that the bulk of the cash was never touched, but the daily interest earned was enough to keep the firm handsomely afloat. I worked my ass off and the firm grew. We attracted the brightest graduates and tempted them away from glossy and glitzy careers in corporate law to help the less fortunate, but still be paid as handsomely. And unsurprisingly, everyone agreed. By the time we left for the new offices three years later, we’d become the number one pro-bono firm in the United States.

I spun around in my chair and punched the numbers into the phone. She picked up on the second ring.

“Beulah Holmes.”

I hadn’t expected her to answer her own phone.

“It’s Rafe Latham.”

The almost inaudible intake of air told me I’d also caught her unaware; it washed over me like still water on a windless day and served me with a healthy dose of one-upmanship.

“Thank you for calling me back, Mr. Latham.”

My eyes almost stuck in my head as I rolled them when she offered nothing else. I stood and walked to the window, watching the yellow cabs jostle along the cobbled Soho streets. She still hadn’t said anything else, and if this attempt at a conversation continued as it had clearly started – with purposefully short, very painful sentences – then we’d still be here at the end of the week. Which no one would be happy about.

“What do you want, Holmes?”

There was silence once more, followed by a rustling noise.

“As you know, Mr. Maynard wishes for this to be an amicable and fair separation of assets. Following our initial meeting yesterday, he has added their New York townhouse to the offer, which he will transfer into Mrs. Maynard’s name, and is currently valued at nineteen million dollars. He wishes to reiterate their shared desire to wrap up agreements as quickly as possible, and if this is agreed to today then we’ll send the paperwork over for signing. No need to go on longer than necessary.”

I frowned as I watched a pregnant woman hail a cab only for it to be snatched by a man a little further up the street. What a cock.

“Latham?”

I focused back on the shrill voice on the end of my phone. “Yes?”

“Do you agree?” she snapped.

“To what?”

The pregnant woman, laden down with enough shopping bags to put my mother to shame, was getting into a different cab now.

“To the offer of the house, and us finalizing today?”

“Oh, sure.”

Another sharp intake said she wasn’t expecting that either.

“Twenty million cash and the house?”

I turned back to the room, done with watching the world below.

“Oh, no, then. As per our request yesterday, we’re seeking for seven fifty mil split across assets and cash. But do feel free to throw in the house you’ve now so kindly offered; Mrs. M wasn’t looking forward to getting movers in.”

Even through the phone I could feel her patience wearing thin, I could almost hear the clench of her jaw.

“You’re not getting seven hundred and fifty million, Latham. Have you lost your mind? He doesn’t have that. You’re going to waste everyone’s time.”

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