Page 48 of Blind Justice

As they stepped from the lobby into the corridor of offices, Ruth shot Melanie a sharp glance. “Hold my calls,” she said curtly before leading Noah to her private space. She shut the door firmly behind them, her heels echoing against the sleek floor as she pulled the blinds shut.

When she turned, Noah was watching her, his gaze intense. For a moment, she stood frozen under his stare. Then, before she could think twice, she crossed the room in swift, decisive steps and wrapped her arms around him.

Her good hand gripped the back of his jacket as she pressed herself against him. Noah didn’t hesitate—his arms came around her, strong and sure, as if to shield her.

“I couldn’t get through this without you,” he murmured against her hair, his voice rough with emotion.

Ruth tilted her head to look up at him, her lips finding his in a kiss that burned with all the fear, frustration, and longing she’d kept bottled up. His response was immediate, his hands tightening at her waist as he kissed her back with a fervor that left her breathless. For that moment, the rest of the world faded away.

When they pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers. “Rae,” he said hoarsely, “I didn’t do it. I swear to you.”

Her hand came up to his face, her thumb brushing along the line of his jaw. “I believe you,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her chest. “But you need to tell me everything, Noah. I can’t help you unless I know exactly what we’re up against.”

He nodded, his grip on her waist loosening just slightly. “I’ll tell you everything,” he promised. “But, Rae… you may be risking everything for me—your professional status and maybe your life.”

She shook her head firmly, her gaze locking with his. “You don’t understand. I’d risk everything for you, Noah.”

The conviction in her voice left him momentarily speechless. They stood like that for a beat longer before Ruth inhaled sharply and turned toward her desk. Picking up the phone, she dialed an extension.

“Kay, it’s Ruth Everhart. Is Mr. Ellison back from his function?” She listened, her eyes darting toward Noah. “Please fit me in for a client meeting. It’s urgent.”

She paced as she waited, the minutes dragging like hours. “Yes,” she said finally. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

Replacing the receiver, she looked at Noah, her expression hardening with resolve. “We’re going to see Blake Ellison. He’ll know how to guide us through this.”

As they stepped out of her office, Matt Brandt appeared from nowhere, his expression sharp and assessing. He moved to block her path, his hand hovering near her shoulder. “Ruthie, a word?—”

“Not now, Matt,” she snapped, sidestepping him without breaking stride. She boarded the up escalator to head to the penthouse offices.

He followed after her, his tone dripping with false concern. “You can’t just barge in on Ellison. He doesn’t have time for?—”

“He made time,” Ruth shot back, her heels clicking as she strode purposefully toward Ellison’s office. She felt Noah close behind Matt.

Matt’s brow lifted in disdain. “Everhart, you’re out of your depth,” he sneered. “You’re going to embarrass this firm.”

Ruth didn’t falter. “You can tell that to Mr. Ellison. He can make the choice if he doesn’t want me to handle this case. He agreed to see us. Now.”

Matt’s smirk faltered as he stepped aside. She didn’t wait for further comment, throwing the door open and striding inside Blake Ellison’s private waiting room with Noah beside her, ready to face whatever came next.

* * *

Noah stood justbehind Ruth as Blake Ellison’s secretary gestured toward the door. “He’s waiting.”

Ruth knocked lightly, and a voice—calm, composed—called them in.

Blake looked up from his paperwork, his sharp gaze flicking between them. “Ruth,” he greeted, measured and neutral. Then his eyes dropped to the sling supporting her arm. “Your arm.”

“I fell on the ice.” She lifted it slightly, her smile easy despite the moment. “My cast is my newest fashion accessory.”

Noah barely heard the exchange, his focus narrowing when Blake’s attention shifted to him.

“Mr. Kandor.”

Noah hated that—Mr. Kandor—as if they were strangers. He let it slide.

Blake leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against the desk in a steady rhythm. “I just had a conversation with Mr. Hayes. He’s running a loose ship. An anonymous tip, and those agents moved on you without any real investigation.”

Noah’s pulse kicked up. “Ethan? How did you know to call him?”

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