CHAPTER 1

      “I can’t do this.” Ean Fever closed the client folder. He leaned forward and laid it on Hugh Bolden’s imposing teakwood desk. Hugh was his boss and one of the principal partners with the New York law firm of Craven, Bolden & Arnez.

      “Why not?” From the other side of the desk, Hugh’s laser blue eyes took aim at Ean’s face. His frown deepened the fine wrinkles between his thick gray brows. “It’s like all the other corporate litigation cases you’ve worked.”

      “I can’t represent this client.” Ean steeled himself for his boss’s reaction.

      “‘Can’t’ or ‘won’t’?” Hugh seemed more curious than confrontational.

      “Won’t.”

      The walls were closing in on him. Ean freed his gaze from the older man’s steely regard to take in the spacious office. It smelled like power and prestige. Thick silver carpeting complemented the teakwood furnishings—conversation table with four white-cushioned chairs, executive desk, cabinetries and bookcases. The entertainment center, including the high-definition television, was black lacquer. The picture window behind Hugh framed several Manhattan skyscrapers as they pierced the hot August sky.

      Commendations and civic awards decorated the walls and shelves. But the partner’s office didn’t give any insight into the man: his loved ones, his hobbies, his beverages of choice.