Time Heals all Wounds ... Or Does it?

Starting Fresh

Anastasia sat quietly at her desk, fingers moving in steady bursts across her keyboard. She enjoyed her job. Liked her life well enough. But she loathed her ex-husband, Carson.

Once, he had been the center of her world—everything. For him, she had abandoned her family without hesitation. Being part of the Edwards family meant power, wealth, influence. If they didn't own something, they took it, If they couldn't take it, they destroyed it.

Now she was alone. Estranged. No safety net. No inheritance. Just a junior lawyer position in Pensacola, Florida, at KL & Associates—a firm devoted to family law, fighting almost exclusively on behalf of men.

The sharp rap of knuckles against her office door broke her thoughts.

She looked up to see Jack Kenny standing there, silver-haired, sharp-eyed, authority worn as naturally as his tailored suit.

"Anastasia," he said. "Conference room in ten minutes for our next client." His tone hovered somewhere between a request and an order. "I'm thinking of letting you take the lead on this one."

Her heart skipped.

She stood quickly, smoothing the front of her knee-length grey skirt before slipping on her matching double-breasted blazer. She buttoned it carefully, tugged the hem until the fabric lay perfectly, then grabbed her pencil and notepad.

"Certainly, Mr. Kenny," she said, stepping toward the door.

"Please," he corrected, ushering her out and resting a hand briefly at the small of her back. "We're colleagues. Call me Jack."

Her shoulders stiffened slightly. "Yes, sir," she said quietly.

They entered the main conference room. Jack took his place at the head of the table. Anastasia sat to his left. Moments later, Michael Leigh strode in—Jack's younger partner—followed by his secretary.

Anastasia rose instantly.

"Mr. Leigh," she said politely, extending her hand. "It's a pleasure."

"Ms. Edwards," Michael replied smoothly, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Always a pleasure. When are you going to let me take you out to dinner?"

Jack cleared his throat sharply. "Not the time or place, Michael."

Anastasia reclaimed her hand and sat without a word.

"We have a prestigious client coming in," Jack said firmly. "This case requires absolute confidentiality and urgency. What is discussed here stays here. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly clear," Michael replied, eyes still fixed on Anastasia.

"Yes, sir," she said, already taking notes.

Jack turned to Michael's secretary. "Grace. You won't be needed. We'll call if necessary."

Grace hesitated, then nodded at Michael's silent approval and left the room—casting Anastasia a jealous glance before shutting the door with unnecessary force.

"As I was saying," Jack continued, "this meeting does not leave this room unless the client instructs otherwise."

The conference phone rang.

"Yes, Kelly?" Anastasia answered. "Thank you—one of us will be right out." She hung up. "He's here."

Jack stood. "Good." He paused at the door and fixed Michael with a warning look. "While I'm gone, I expect professionalism toward Ms. Edwards. Am I understood?"

Michael chuckled lightly as Jack exited.

Anastasia sat still, twisting the ring on her finger—an old nervous habit. She glanced at Michael.

"What do you know about this client?" she asked.

"High-profile," he said smugly. "World-famous." He leaned closer. "And it's Michael. Mr. Leigh is my dying father."

Her discomfort was evident when the door opened again.

Jack re-entered, escorting the client inside.

Anastasia looked up—and froze.

The man beside her boss was striking in a way that stole her breath. Tall—well over six feet—broad-shouldered, muscular, sun-kissed skin. Dark hair pulled neatly into a bun. Warm brown eyes that held strength and something gentler beneath it.

A modern-day god.

Their eyes met, and heat flooded her cheeks. She couldn't tell who looked away first.

Michael stood and circled the table, offering Anastasia a hand. She accepted, rising just as the men took their seats.

"Michael Leigh, partner," Michael said, shaking the client's hand.

"Joseph Anoa'i," the man replied, withdrawing smoothly.

He turned to Anastasia and extended his hand.

"Anastasia Edwards," she said softly. "Junior lawyer to Mr. Kenny."

Joe took her hand—and held it. His gaze lingered, steady and warm.

"Please, Mr. Anoa'i," Michael interrupted sharply, gripping Anastasia's arm to pull her back. "Have a seat."

Joe released her hand reluctantly and sat across from her. Anastasia did the same, pencil poised.

"Today is simply an intake," Jack explained. "After ward, you'll work with myself, Mr. Leigh, or Ms. Edwards. Confidentiality has been explained."

"I appreciate that," Joe said. "My dad said you were the best."

Michael leaned forward. "What brings you to us, Mr. Anoa'i?"

Joe glanced at Anastasia—who was focused carefully on her notes. "I'm seeking legal counsel for my divorce."

Her pencil paused.

"Can you provide some background?" she asked gently, eyes lifting just briefly.

"Ten years married. Together since college."

"Children?" Jack asked.

"Five," Joe said quietly. "A seventeen-year-old daughter. Twin boys—eight. Twin boys—four."

Michael leaned back, smirking. "And you're sure they're yours?"

Joe's eyes darkened. "Honestly? I don't know."

Michael shrugged. "Seems simple. Either she cheated—or she didn't."

Anastasia snapped her head up. "That's unfair," she said sharply. "His career keeps him on the road constantly. That doesn't make him controlling—or suspicious. He trusted her."

Michael stood abruptly. "You forget yourself." He grabbed Anastasia's arm. "You're a junior lawyer. Learn your place."

Joe was on his feet instantly, gripping Michael's wrist with dangerous calm.

"That's enough."

Jack rose. "Everyone sit down. Now."

The room settled—barely.

Joe looked at Jack, then at Anastasia.

"That settles it," he said firmly. "She handles my case. Ms. Edwards is my lawyer—or I take my business elsewhere."

Silence fell.

Jack studied Anastasia for a long moment... then nodded.