27

I’d told him I’d move faster.

Which I’d done.

“What made you rush down the hallway and barge into Dominick’s office like that?” He turned his chair toward me, spreading his fingers wide and pressing them together, like he was palming a basketball. “Why couldn’t you have waited to show me the folder when I came back to my office?”

I straightened, holding a hand on my hip, the stack of folders resting in my other arm.

He was looking for an argument.

I wasn’t going to give him one.

“I won’t do it again.”

“You’re not the lawyer on this case, Hannah. You’re not the one who has to stand in the courtroom and present a believable argument. I can’t for the fucking life of me figure out why you did what you did today.”

I felt the same way about how he was acting and what had warranted this kind of reaction.

“I was excited for you,” I admitted. “I’ve watched how hard you’ve been working on this case, and I wanted to offer some relief.”

“Relief?” His eyes narrowed, his hands dropping as his arms