Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) - By Elizabeth Ruston Page 0,10
one close to the office or close to your house. But we’d like to see you meeting with a personal trainer at least twice a week.”
“I’d rather work,” Sarah said, assuming that was the right answer.
Richard shook his head. “You need to stay focused. Even-keeled. We’ve heard a few complaints that you’re sometimes too hard on people. Hard is good—don’t get me wrong,” he said before she could defend herself. “We wouldn’t put you in charge if you couldn’t lead. But it’s good for everybody if those of us in power take a little time to sweat off some of the pressure, you understand?”
Sarah had no desire to waste time at some gym when she could be billing, but she wasn’t going to argue. If the firm thought it would make her a better leader, so be it. She would put in the minimum time with a trainer in case anyone checked up on her, then she’d work extra hours to make up for it.
Because nothing was going to interfere with this promotion. It had come much sooner than she ever could have hoped: right before her twenty-ninth birthday.
Sarah loved responsibility—always had. Not so much bossing people around, but instead being the problem-solver in any group. Figuring things out. Some people worked for praise, she noticed over the years, but she took much more value out of being proud of herself. She liked knowing she was the most reliable person she knew—except for her parents, who had given her that training in the first place. But as far as any other lawyer she’d ever met—and before that, any other student she met—Sarah felt comfortable believing she worked harder and smarter than any of them.
Her five months as partner in the firm she had been working for since law school was one of the favorite periods of her life. She would wake up sometimes at three-thirty in the morning because she was so excited to get to work. It meant she often passed out dead tired by nine o’clock at night, but she loved knowing she was up before anyone else, working long before dawn.
On April 6, she arrived at seven AM and began working on a Motion to Dismiss. She had already checked the status reports from her team members before she even came in, and knew she would have a few hours to herself now to work on her own cases.
The agents swarmed the building. One minute the only people she noticed outside the glass wall of her office were the attorneys and staff she saw every day, and the next there were navy blue uniformed men and women everywhere, seizing papers and files, emptying cabinets, and ordering people away from the shredders that stood conveniently beside every desk.
Sarah rose slowly, her legs unsteady. She was tempted at first to stay in her office, hidden behind the wooden door, but she realized that wasn’t her way. No matter how horrible things would be once she confronted what was happening, she was a partner, she was a team leader, she was Sarah Henley. And Sarah Henley stepped up.
She could see now the bright yellow lettering on the agents’ uniforms: FBI.
As one of the female agents moved toward Sarah’s office, sweeping the contents of one of the secretaries’ desks into a sturdy cardboard box, Sarah asked, “Would you please tell me what’s going on?”
“Who are you?” the agent asked.
Sarah gave her name and position.
The agent pulled a list from her pants pocket and quickly scanned it. “Henley, you’re to go to the fourth floor.”
“What’s on the fourth floor?” Sarah asked, fighting hard to sound calm.
“Command post,” the agent answered. “We have to interview you before we can release you.”
“Interview me about what? What is all this?”
“Ma’am, if you’ll just proceed to the fourth floor—”
“Please,” Sarah said, her voice finally betraying her fear. “Just tell me what’s going on. Why are you here?”
The agent studied her for a moment, then answered, “Allegations of securities fraud, tax fraud, conspiracy, and money laundering.”
“Money laun . . . oh my God.” Sarah’s legs started to fail her. She braced herself against the edge of her desk. “Wh-who?”
“They’ll give you more information downstairs, Miss Henley. Now I’m going to have to ask you to vacate this office,” the agent said, already angling past Sarah.
“Can I—” Sarah cleared her throat. She saw one of the young lawyers on her team staring at her wide-eyed from beyond the door, her face as white as Sarah’s.