Page 27 of Blind Justice

As the conversation continued, Noah couldn’t shake the sense that Dylan Grant was hiding something. His standoffishness wasn’t just snobbery—it was defensive, almost desperate. A man like Dylan Grant didn’t rise to his level of power without some skeletons in his closet, and Noah couldn’t help but wonder, considering the presence of ATF agent Luke Andrews, if they were connected to Maxim Fairchild, Verdant Horizons, or something else entirely.

Blake, meanwhile, seemed genuinely invested in Ruth’s well-being. As the group spoke, he frequently turned the conversation back to her, recounting stories of her accomplishments and jokingly teasing her about her tendency to overwork herself.

“Don’t let Dylan scare you,” Blake said with a wink. “He’s a perfectionist, but he knows talent when he sees it. And Ruth? She’s got plenty of it.”

Ruth blushed faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Her nervous tell. “Thank you, Mr. Ellison.”

“Blake,” he corrected gently. “Your dad wouldn’t forgive me if I let you call me anything else.”

Ruth’s lips curved into a small smile.

Dylan, however, seemed less inclined to let the moment linger. “Excuse me,” he said abruptly, stepping away under the pretense of refilling his drink. Margaret followed, her expression unreadable.

Noah’s gaze tracked Dylan for a moment before returning to Blake. “Is he always like that?”

Blake sighed, his jovial demeanor dimming slightly. “Dylan’s... complicated. He’s got a lot on his plate, and he’s not the easiest man to get to know. We met when we were both working for the district attorney’s office, what feels like a century ago.”

Noah nodded, but he couldn’t ignore the unease that settled in his gut. Dylan Grant was hiding something, and whatever it was, it was eating away at him.

As Noah escorted Ruth toward the buffet, something caught his eye across the room. Dylan Grant stood near the far end of the patio deep in conversation with Noah’s big boss, Thomas Calloway. Their postures were tense, their voices low, and though Noah couldn’t hear the exchange, he could read the body language—Grant was agitated, while Calloway remained impassive, his arms crossed as he listened. Whatever was being discussed, it wasn’t casual.

Then, as if sensing Noah’s gaze, Dylan glanced over, his expression unreadable. A beat later, he said something to Calloway, straightened his suit jacket, and moved away, disappearing into the crowd.

Noah barely had time to process the interaction before Calloway began making his way over. Within moments, the U.S. attorney reached them, his sharp gaze sweeping over the group filling their plates before settling on Noah. “Evening,” he greeted smoothly, offering his hand.

“Sir,” Noah said, shaking it firmly. He kept his expression neutral, though Calloway’s presence was never something he could ignore.

Calloway gave a small, unreadable smile. “Didn’t expect you to be here.” His gaze flicked briefly to Ruth before Noah cleared his throat.

“Ruth, this is U.S. Attorney Thomas Calloway,” Noah said, gesturing between them. “Sir, this is Ruth Everhart.”

Ruth extended her hand, her expression poised. “Mr. Calloway, it’s a pleasure.”

Calloway shook her hand, studying her with quiet interest. “Mr. Grant was telling me about you, Miss Everhart. Your firm’s making quite an impact in this town.”

Ruth smiled politely, but Noah caught the flicker of curiosity in her eyes. Whatever had passed between Calloway and Grant, it was clear Ruth was now part of the equation, whether she realized it or not.

As the cocktail hour continued, Noah remained hyperaware of the dynamics at play. Blake’s warmth, Dylan’s defensiveness, and Luke Andrews’ silent recognition all hinted at deeper layers to unravel. For now, though, his focus was on Ruth, whose resilience and grace shone despite the complexities surrounding her. Whatever challenges lay ahead, Noah was determined to protect her.

Twelve

The cocktail hour flowed seamlessly into the dinner, announced by a soft chime of bells rung by the event’s staff. Guests made their way through the wide doors of the dining hall, where round tables draped in cream-colored linens were arranged beneath a ceiling of exposed wooden beams. The centerpiece of each table was a towering arrangement of evergreen branches, pinecones, and gold-dipped roses that shimmered under the light of dozens of hanging lanterns.

Noah pulled out Ruth’s chair for her as they reached their assigned table. She murmured a soft “thank you,” her voice tinged with unease. The warm glow of the fireplace softened the atmosphere, but it did little to calm the knot tightening in her stomach as she scanned the table.

As they settled in, Noah’s shoulder brushed lightly against hers, a steadying presence she didn’t realize she’d need so much. Across from them, Blake and his wife radiated warmth and charm. Claire’s vivacious laughter filled the space as she adjusted the neckline of her sleek black gown, her quick wit complementing Blake’s easygoing demeanor. Beside them, Dylan and his wife offered a stark contrast. Margaret exuded understated elegance, her silver hair styled in an impeccable chignon, while Dylan’s cool, appraising gaze seemed to weigh everyone’s worth against an invisible scale.

“Noah, every year one of the associates wins a seat at the head table. Ruth won this year’s pool,” Margaret explained.

Noah turned and winked at her.

To Noah’s right, Melanie was glowing, clearly thrilled to introduce her boyfriend to everyone. Luke’s slightly awkward smile and rigid posture belied his flawless cover as a supportive partner to Melanie. He seamlessly engaged in light conversation, deflecting any probing questions with a charming blend of politeness and humility.

Ruth’s focus shifted to Matt Brandt as he approached the table. Her stomach dropped as he arrived with his date, Jenna. The glamorous local newscaster’s poised demeanor and dazzling smile couldn’t quite hide the discomfort in her eyes. Matt’s grip on her arm seemed more possessive than affectionate, his loud introduction drawing attention he clearly craved.

“Ruthie!” Matt’s voice carried across the table as he grinned at her. “I was wondering where they’d seat you. Lucky us, huh?”

Ruth forced a polite smile, though her hands tightened in her lap under the table. Noah’s hand brushed hers briefly, grounding her. He murmured, so low only she could hear, “I’ve got you.”

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