Page 54 of Over Her Dead Body

“With what we know about Martin Hale.”

She laughs once, without humor.

“Do you think I brought you a man off the sidewalk because he owns a good jacket?”

“I think his footprint is thin.”

“Most people with real money prefer it that way.”

I take a breath. Let it out. “My gut tells me⁠—”

“He was vetted.”

“By whom?”

Celeste lowers her voice. “By people whose names open doors you have not reached yet. His references are clean. His money is credible. His interest is specific. Genevieve invited him here and is willing to ask Philip to open the study for him. I’m going to treat that as more useful than your mood.”

I saw him walk out of a building with blood on his shirt and a knife in his waistband. Apparently that did not make the references.

Ahead of us, Reid speaks to Genevieve as if this is all very pleasant. As if I am not standing ten feet away trying to keep my career from catching fire.

“I hear you, but—if he turns out not to be who he says he is,” I say, “my name is the one attached to him.”

“No,” Celeste says. “Your name is attached to how you handle him.”

I stare at her for a beat. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. Celeste has no interest in whether Martin is real. Only whether his money is.

“Emma, I value your instincts. I do not work for them.”

“I know.”

“Then you would do well to remember what is actually at stake. You need Hale if you still intend to make partner.”

“I thought Bauer and Genevieve’s referral were what I needed.”

“Bauer belongs to Margot now. Genevieve’s referral remains hypothetical. I threw you a bone with Hale.”

Celeste looks me over.

“Take this as I mean it, Emma. A little friendly advice, from someone who’s been there. You’re thirty-five. Right now, clients still confuse wanting to look at you with wanting your opinion. In five years, they’ll find someone younger and call her promising. They’ll call you difficult. Make partner before that happens.”

Thirty-five. I hadn’t realized my expiration date was coming up so soon. Leave it to Celeste to remind me.

“Sign him as a client,” she says. “Give the partners something to discuss besides Vienna.”

I look at Reid. He does not bother pretending he isn’t watching.

Celeste follows my gaze. “Unless, of course, you have a concrete objection. In that case, give it to me.”

My dead husband is standing beside the champagne pretending to be new money.

The sentence forms on my tongue and dies there.

Celeste waits.

“I don’t have one,” I say, glancing in Reid’s direction. “Yet.”

She nods. “Great. Then do your job.”