"Harvey," Donna poked her head through the glass door of the office and Harvey glanced up at her, "your three o'clock is on her way up."
Harvey nodded and went back to his lap top. "Thanks Donna. Send her in as soon as she gets here."
Harvey's fingers flew over the keys with ease born of practice, but not so much so that he was not reminded of how much he tended to hate the thing, high tech electronics as a whole actually. While his smart phone came in handy most of the time, he still preferred the old corded one he kept bolted to his kitchen wall, no matter how many odd looks it got from the occasional woman he brought home. He was a pen and ink, records and white noise kind of guy, societal pressures be dammed.
He glanced up from the screen and saw a slight, well dressed woman in Coach heels and long blonde hair pulled back in a severe ponytail striding toward his office. Finishing up his email to Jessica, he stood, closing the lid on the laptop and buttoning the second button on his suit jacket.
Harvey rounded the corner of his desk toward the door just as his three o'clock was sent through, ignoring the raised eyebrow Donna sent him over her shoulder. And of course, the redhead was right. The woman was attractive, doubtless, but she was a client, first and foremost, and it was against Harvey's policy to mix business with pleasure.
"Ms. Ronson I presume? Nice to meet you, Harvey Specter."
The woman was young, younger than some of their associates he guessed, with bright blue eyes and black nailpolish. She shook his outstretched hand and gave him a confident smile, but the tight grip she kept on her last season Prada bag gave away her nerves.
"Mr. Specter, so nice to finally meet you. You come highly recommended at Birch Books."
Harvey smiled charmingly at the compliment and waved his hand toward the couch, indicating they should sit. The woman crossed her legs at the ankles, and laced her fingers, laying them lightly in her lap.
"It's always nice to know Mr. Birch hasn't forgotten about me."
The woman smiled, shaking her head, "no. He certainly hasn't. Hardly an office party goes by when he doesn't rave about how well he did after both his divorces due to your careful eye."
Again, Harvey smiled, pleased, and leaned forward to the pitcher of water on the table, turning over a couple of glasses.
"Water?"
She nodded, and Harvey saw her swallow hard, her smile becoming more forced by the minute.
"Mr. Birch says you're the best."
Harvey looked up from the pitcher. It wasn't a question, but the look in the woman's eyes seemed to be searching for assurance of the fact.
He nodded, "I am."
For the first time a bit of fire lit in her blue eyes and she smirked.
"Cocky?" She challenged.
He handed her the glass of water and went to pour himself one. "You know my record, Ms. Ronson. That's why you're here."
He sat back in the chair, crossing his legs and asked smoothly. "Do you think I'm cocky?"
She stared at him a moment, and then shook her head, looking at her water.
"I suppose we'll see."
Harvey nodded, allowing a moment of silence to settle in. Obviously she was nervous, be it from the nature of the case she was bringing to him or the fact that there were very few people he'd met over the years who didn't find him somewhat intimidating, he wasn't yet sure. But behind the nerves he could also see a shadow of the strength and intelligence that had gotten her up the ranks to Editor at one of the biggest book publishers in New York at such a young age.
"So, Ms. Ronson,"
"Samantha is fine."
"Samantha then," He nodded, "and you can call me Harvey. Shall we get down to business?"
The woman gulped down the rest of the glass of water and took a deep breath, laughing somewhat nervously at the look he gave her.
"I guess I'm a little tense." She leaned forward to set the glass on the table and looked at him, "I'm being sued."
Harvey nodded, that much he knew. "Okay. What for?"
Samantha sighed again and readjusted her position on the couch. "My former assistant is suing me for wrongful termination and sexual harassment. He's claiming I came on to him and then fired him when he didn't return my advances." She shook her head, a bitter twist on her lips. "Same old story."
Harvey looked at her thoughtfully.
"And is it true?"
Samantha's gaze locked to his and she narrowed her eyes.
"I fired him because he was lazy and useless and a chauvinistic pig who didn't like having a woman for a boss."
Harvey sighed, he'd met plenty of lawyers over the years who felt the same way. They didn't tend to last long at Pearson Hardman. Harvey, for one, had never really had a problem with it. It was a big part of the reason he and Jessica got along so well. He didn't hide any qualms about having a female boss, he just didn't have any.
"Okay." Harvey nodded, "give me and my associate a few days to look into this, gather some information on both sides of the story and we'll meet again at the end of the week."
Samantha took a deep breath and nodded, moving to stand, and Harvey followed.
"Thank you very much Harvey," she said, extending her hand for him once again, "I can't wait for this all to be put behind me."
Harvey smiled charmingly again and began walking her toward the door. "My pleasure Samantha. My assistant Donna will be getting in touch with you to set up a good time for us to meet."
The woman nodded and made one last attempt at a smile before Harvey opened the door for her and she started making her way back toward the elevators. As soon as she was out of earshot Donna stood up beside him, very aware of the appraising look Harvey was giving the young woman as she walked away.
"Down boy." She said, smirking.
Harvey gave her an affronted look, "you know me better than that, Donna."
The redhead sat down again, waving off the comment as if it was an annoying fly at a picnic. "I know I know, business and pleasure."
"That's right," he reached up to needlessly straighten his tie, "I'll wait until the case is over before I submit her to the full brunt of Specter Charm."
Donna kept her eyes to the screen so Harvey wouldn't see her roll them. "Your self-control astounds."
Harvey didn't get a chance to respond, or tell her he could see her reflection in the computer screen, because at that moment Mike came barreling up to him from down the hall, doing a near sprint.
"Harvey, Harvey," he panted, earning a 'whats wrong with you' look from both the man himself and his secretary, "who was that leaving your office?"
Harvey sighed, returning to his office. "That was Samantha Ronson. Our new client. She's a young editor from Birch Books and she," he cut himself off when he realized the associate wasn't followed him. He gave a confused look to Donna, who merely pointed down the hall toward the elevators, not even looking up from the paper she was scanning on her desk.
"What the hell?"
"Samantha!" Mike burst out of the stairwell still going at a dead sprint even after thirteen flights of stairs. His mind was buzzing, his chest heaved from more physical exertion than he'd had in the past five years (because a fifteen minute bike to work didn't count for as much as you'd think it would) and he had no idea what he would say when he caught up to the woman.
Her stilettos clicked purposefully and echoed in the marble lobby that was mercifully empty, save a couple of security guards and a pair of computer techs from the third floor. The clicking stopped as Mike rounded the corner and she tilted her head at him as he skidded to a stop.
His heart pounded for a whole new reason as the woman's eyes narrowed and her eyebrows came together, critical blue eyes looking him up and down. He made a pass at smoothing down his jacket, but it had no effect on the wrinkles he'd acquired from being bent over a desk all day.
"Mike?" She asked quietly, clearly unsure of what she was seeing.
He sighed and took another step forward, he shrugged. Distantly, he recognized the dinging of the elevator and knew it had to be Harvey investigating what had sent his associate flying from the office like it was on fire. Or, more likely, to make sure whatever it was that sent his associate flying from the office like it was on fire didn't jeopardize Pearson Hardman's relationship with a new client.
Well, Mike thought ruefully, too late for that.
"What are you doing here?" They asked in unison, and Mike would have smiled, if not for the clearly not amused, not impressed, and not having any of it look on Samantha's face.
He sighed and made a vague gesture with his hands, "I work here."
Samantha tilted her head, her eyes narrowing dangerously and her lips pursed, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Harvey chose that moment to step in.
"Is there a problem here?" He asked in his best, I'm in control and can handle this situation manner, giving a reassuring look to Samantha and a scathing one to Mike.
Mike looked past him toward the woman and sighed, his next words apparently physically paining him to utter aloud.
"This is Samantha Ronson. My sister."