Rage of Angels by Sidney Sheldon

Jennifer turned and fled into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

She stood against the sink, taking deep breaths, wiping the tears from her eyes. She knew she had behaved stupidly. That’s twice, she thought wryly. She should have handled Adam Warner differently. She should have tried to explain, instead of attacking him. Maybe then she would not be disbarred. But she knew that was wishful thinking. Sending someone to question her was a charade. The next step would be to serve her with an order to show cause, and the formal machinery would be set in motion. There would be a trial panel of three attorneys who would make their recommendation to the Disciplinary Board which would make its report to the Board of Governors. The recommendation was a foregone conclusion: disbarment. She would be forbidden to practice law in the state of New York. Jennifer thought bitterly, There’s one bright side to this. I can get into the Guinness Book of Records for the shortest law career in history.

She stepped into the bath again and lay back, letting the still-warm water lap at her, soothing away her tension. At this moment she was too tired to care what happened to her. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift. She was half asleep when the chill of the water awakened her. She had no idea how long she had lain in the tub. Reluctantly she stepped out and began toweling herself dry. She was no longer hungry. The scene with Adam Warner had taken her appetite away.

Jennifer combed her hair and creamed her face and decided she would go to bed without dinner. In the morning she would telephone about the ride to Seattle. She opened the bathroom door and walked into the living room.

Adam Warner was seated in a chair, leafing through a magazine. He looked up as Jennifer came into the room, naked.

“I’m sorry,” Adam said. “I—”

Jennifer gave a small cry of alarm and fled to the bathroom, where she put on her robe. When she stepped out to confront Adam again, Jennifer was furious.

“The inquisition is over. I asked you to leave.”

Adam put the magazine down and said quietly, “Miss Parker, do you think we could discuss this calmly for a moment?”

“No!” All the old rage boiled up in Jennifer again. “I have nothing more to say to you or your damned disciplinary committee. I’m tired of being treated like—like I’m some kind of criminal!”

“Have I said you were a criminal?” Adam asked quietly.

“You—isn’t that why you’re here?”

“I told you why I’m here. I’m empowered to investigate and recommend for or against disbarment proceedings. I want to get your side of the story.”

“I see. And how do I buy you off?”

Adam’s face tightened. “I’m sorry, Miss Parker.” He rose to his feet and started for the door.

“Just a minute!” Adam turned. “Forgive me,” she said. “I—everybody seems to be the enemy. I apologize.”

“Your apology is accepted.”

Jennifer was suddenly aware of the flimsy robe she was wearing. “If you still want to ask me questions, I’ll put some clothes on and we can talk.”

“Fair enough. Have you had dinner?”

She hesitated. “I—”

“I know a little French restaurant that’s just perfect for inquisitions.”

 

 

It was a quiet, charming bistro on 56th Street on the East Side.

“Not too many people know about this place,” Adam Warner said when they had been seated. “It’s owned by a young French couple who used to work at Les Pyrénées. The food is excellent.”

Jennifer had to take Adam’s word for it. She was incapable of tasting anything. She had not eaten all day, but she was so nervous that she was unable to force any food down her throat. She tried to relax, but it was impossible. No matter how much he pretended, the charming man seated opposite her was the enemy. And he was charming, Jennifer had to admit. He was amusing and attractive, and under other circumstances Jennifer would have enjoyed the evening enormously; but these were not other circumstances. Her whole future was in the hands of this stranger. The next hour or two would determine in which direction the rest of her life would move.

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