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Authors: Maureen Smith
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middle of unwrapping a
plate to study Rebecca through narrowed eyes. “Are you absolutely sure there’s
nothing going on between you and Signor Rossi? He’s very good-looking, if I
recall. And—perhaps more important—he’s rich. That is, if you don’t
mind wondering where all his money comes from.”
Rebecca shook her head. “You sound just like
those feds who kept auditing him to find discrepancies in his financial
records. If Bruno Rossi is a criminal, then I’m a long-lost heiress to an
African dynasty.”
“You might be. Remember how our history
professor used to tell you that you carried yourself like a queen?”
Rebecca made a face. “He was also eighty
years old and half blind.”
Cherelle snickered. “Seriously though, Beck.
What makes you so sure Bruno Rossi is on the up-and-up?”
“What makes you so sure he isn’t ? The fact that he’s an
independently wealthy Italian-American? Does that automatically mean he has
ties to the Mafia or some other criminal enterprise?”
“Of course not. You know I’m not that narrow-minded.”
“A lot of people are, though.” Lips pursed, Rebecca
tipped her head thoughtfully to one side as she looked at her best friend. “You
want to know why I’m convinced of Bruno’s innocence? Because he told me. Seriously,”
she added when Cherelle shot her a cynical look. “I know it’s hard for you to
believe I’d be that trusting or naive. You make a living defending corporate
executives you know damn well are guilty as sin. Your cases have made you
jaded, and I understand that. But I’m not jaded—or I try not to be.
“On a slow night when I was working late at
the club, Bruno and I got into a conversation about our families. He told me
how his relatives immigrated to this country from Sicily with nothing more than
the clothes on their backs. He talked about his grandfather working night and
day at a factory to feed his large family and resisting pressure to get
involved with organized crime, as many of his friends had done. The Rossis were dirt poor, and they
never quite realized the American dream. But Bruno’s grandfather died knowing
he didn’t have any man’s blood on his hands, and that he’d led a life of
integrity and honor that would impact future generations. Bruno Rossi’s success
today can be attributed to his grandfather’s legacy, as well as the good head
for business he was blessed with.”
When Rebecca had finished speaking, Cherelle
began to clap slowly. “That’s one of the best oral summations I’ve ever heard.”
Rebecca laughed. “All I’m saying is that Bruno
is a self-made millionaire who got where he is through hard work and
determination. He took business courses at the local community college, saved
up his money and made some smart investments along the way, including the
purchase of a failing nightclub he breathed new life into. I don’t know what
kind of so-called evidence the government has on him, but obviously it hasn’t
been enough to bring him down. My gut tells me they’ll never produce the kind
of evidence they need to indict him, because it simply isn’t there.”
Cherelle looked vaguely amused. “Your gut
tells you?”
“Yeah.” A soft smile curved Rebecca’s mouth
as she remembered Vince’s words. “I have a sixth sense about these things.”
“All right. I’ll take your word for it.
However, if Signor Rossi ever needs legal counsel, be sure to drop my name.
Landing a client like that would put me on the fast-track to making partner at
the firm, and you know I need all the advantages I can get being one of the
youngest attorneys and a woman.”
“You don’t need any advantages. Those people
are lucky to have someone of your talent and ability working for them. If they
don’t realize it, there are a hundred other law firms that would snatch you up
in a heartbeat.”
Cherelle gave her a grateful smile. “Can I
take you to the office with me every day?”
“You could,” Rebecca
plate to study Rebecca through narrowed eyes. “Are you absolutely sure there’s
nothing going on between you and Signor Rossi? He’s very good-looking, if I
recall. And—perhaps more important—he’s rich. That is, if you don’t
mind wondering where all his money comes from.”
Rebecca shook her head. “You sound just like
those feds who kept auditing him to find discrepancies in his financial
records. If Bruno Rossi is a criminal, then I’m a long-lost heiress to an
African dynasty.”
“You might be. Remember how our history
professor used to tell you that you carried yourself like a queen?”
Rebecca made a face. “He was also eighty
years old and half blind.”
Cherelle snickered. “Seriously though, Beck.
What makes you so sure Bruno Rossi is on the up-and-up?”
“What makes you so sure he isn’t ? The fact that he’s an
independently wealthy Italian-American? Does that automatically mean he has
ties to the Mafia or some other criminal enterprise?”
“Of course not. You know I’m not that narrow-minded.”
“A lot of people are, though.” Lips pursed, Rebecca
tipped her head thoughtfully to one side as she looked at her best friend. “You
want to know why I’m convinced of Bruno’s innocence? Because he told me. Seriously,”
she added when Cherelle shot her a cynical look. “I know it’s hard for you to
believe I’d be that trusting or naive. You make a living defending corporate
executives you know damn well are guilty as sin. Your cases have made you
jaded, and I understand that. But I’m not jaded—or I try not to be.
“On a slow night when I was working late at
the club, Bruno and I got into a conversation about our families. He told me
how his relatives immigrated to this country from Sicily with nothing more than
the clothes on their backs. He talked about his grandfather working night and
day at a factory to feed his large family and resisting pressure to get
involved with organized crime, as many of his friends had done. The Rossis were dirt poor, and they
never quite realized the American dream. But Bruno’s grandfather died knowing
he didn’t have any man’s blood on his hands, and that he’d led a life of
integrity and honor that would impact future generations. Bruno Rossi’s success
today can be attributed to his grandfather’s legacy, as well as the good head
for business he was blessed with.”
When Rebecca had finished speaking, Cherelle
began to clap slowly. “That’s one of the best oral summations I’ve ever heard.”
Rebecca laughed. “All I’m saying is that Bruno
is a self-made millionaire who got where he is through hard work and
determination. He took business courses at the local community college, saved
up his money and made some smart investments along the way, including the
purchase of a failing nightclub he breathed new life into. I don’t know what
kind of so-called evidence the government has on him, but obviously it hasn’t
been enough to bring him down. My gut tells me they’ll never produce the kind
of evidence they need to indict him, because it simply isn’t there.”
Cherelle looked vaguely amused. “Your gut
tells you?”
“Yeah.” A soft smile curved Rebecca’s mouth
as she remembered Vince’s words. “I have a sixth sense about these things.”
“All right. I’ll take your word for it.
However, if Signor Rossi ever needs legal counsel, be sure to drop my name.
Landing a client like that would put me on the fast-track to making partner at
the firm, and you know I need all the advantages I can get being one of the
youngest attorneys and a woman.”
“You don’t need any advantages. Those people
are lucky to have someone of your talent and ability working for them. If they
don’t realize it, there are a hundred other law firms that would snatch you up
in a heartbeat.”
Cherelle gave her a grateful smile. “Can I
take you to the office with me every day?”
“You could,” Rebecca
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