MASTER PRINCE
“Miss Hathaway, really? Your client has no grounds to pursue this legal action. You and I both know the complaint has no merit, barely justifying the paperwork required. You’re not fooling anyone by dragging this mockery of a lawsuit out. The ridiculous motion you’ve filed today won’t flush with Judge Garman. You’re wasting everyone’s time, money, and energy with this frivolous litigation.” Mitchell Prince paced in front of his desk. Close enough so his voice didn’t fade in and out over the speaker of the telephone.
“With all due respect, Mister Prince, playing golf with the judge occasionally doesn’t give you an inside track to this case. My client has been physically attacked, beaten to the point she needed to be hospitalized for a week, lost wages, and the emotional trauma she has suffered can’t be measured at this point.” The annoying attorney on the other end of the conversation sounded as if in the bottom of a tin can. Mitch shook his head. She obviously put her phone on speaker as well, but didn’t realize she sounded that way. Or maybe she did to goad me.
“First off, I don’t play golf. Second, I sympathize for your client. I honestly do, but what happened to her occurred over a year ago. Holding Club Tabu and my clients negligent for causing harm and damages will have no effect on them in the end. The criminal case proved the alleged attacker not guilty, and your client continues to pursue a worthless suit. You do not stand a chance of getting this claim to jury.”
“We shall see, counsel. You’re right about this being a civil case, but may I remind you the burden of proof for ordinary care by your clients falls under the purview of no reasonable care taken or even the possibility that none was provided to my client. If I can argue to the jury the establishment you represent ignored certain laws or protocols, my client will win the claim. The criminal indictment may have been screwed up by incompetence, but I assure you, I won’t let a dismissal happen the second time.”
“Don’t recite legalese to me. I’m not spending my time arguing our side over the telephone, Miss Hathaway. We’ll file a motion rebutting yours. Your accusations will not hold up, and we’ll drag this out for years. Your client will be old and gray before this even gets to trial. She’ll go broke with the attorney fees alone before she collects one dime from my clients.”
“Don’t threaten me, Mister Prince. We’ve argued this point how many times now? My client is well within her rights to pursue this. File your rebuttal and we’ll counter back. This will go to trial if I have to try it in the court of public opinion.”
Ignoring the idle warning, he steadied his voice and fired back. “I’m well aware of your client’s rights to file suit, but that doesn’t mean you’ll win.”
“Your clients are running nothing more than a place of prostitution and skirting the law. This club abuses and harms poor, helpless women duping them into believing they want to be beaten and raped. We will take this to the limit and will not back down.”
Indignation flared in every cell of Mitch’s body. He could tolerate the annoying woman on the other end of the phone, but what he couldn’t take was ignorance of the lifestyle. So much for keeping calm. In his experienced opinion, the general public, the “vanilla” world didn’t have a clue about what went on in a club or people’s private lives, only their preconceived ideas of what BDSM or D/s encompassed. The opposing counsel participated in the prejudicial mass of people who only thought they knew, labeling it perversion and the participants decadent and psychologically unbalanced.
Maintaining an even tone in his voice instead of lashing out and saying something he’d regret, he sucked in a deep breath before responding. “Miss Hathaway, I’m not about to dignify your ill-informed statement with one of my own. Suffice it to say you’ve been misled about BDSM. This conversation is over. I’ll see you in court.”
“Yes, Mister Prince, you certainly will see me in court, unless your clients agree to mediation. I’ll be petitioning the courts for the next step.”
“We’ve asked for mediation before. You quashed that request. You’re feeling the pressure, aren’t you? At this point, we’re not interested. Good day, Miss Hathaway.” He hissed through his teeth, regretting his harshness and loss of control.
The noise on the other end ceased immediately when he pressed the ‘hands-free’ button. He only wished he could’ve slammed the receiver in her ear instead. More impactful, he thought. As an attorney he rarely lost his temper, always a calm, cool negotiator in any situation, courtroom, business transactions or dungeon. Losing his command over the telephone with a woman, who he’d not had the pleasure of actually meeting, really pissed him off. I plan to wipe the courtroom floor with her infuriating comments.
The lawsuit had been on-going for over a year. No doubt, the woman had been assaulted, but that didn’t mean the club was negligent. Irrespective of his personal concerns for the young woman, because he really was worried about her, he couldn’t let that cloud his judgment in order to protect his clients.
Prince followed the criminal trial closely, but didn’t participate as part of the defense team. When the verdict came in, a sigh of relief came with glee for all the owners, not just him. The short-lived celebration abruptly halted six weeks later. The club and each owner were slapped with a five million dollar lawsuit for negligence and not taking ordinary care in making sure members, especially inexperienced guests, didn’t suffer harm while on the premises. Why the victim’s counsel thought they could win was beyond Prince’s comprehension.
“I hate wasting time and money on a nuisance case.”
The victim hired a high profile attorney named Guilianna Hathaway. Prince had heard her name mentioned around town and seen her in person once at a charity event soon after the civil suit was filed. The press branded her as the women’s rights attorney, fighting injustices in the workplace, domestic victims, and occasionally as a divorce counselor. He’d read a magazine article about her fleeting to the top of the echelon of high-paid lawyers representing the wife of a professional football player. Nasty divorce if he remembered correctly. The wife won a multi-million dollar settlement, but not after dragging the poor dude through the mud for the public to witness. Mitch didn’t like airing people’s dirty laundry for all to see, particularly where children were involved. They were the innocent victims, and he recalled thinking at the time how Miss Hathaway, for all her statements about protecting children, used the two children as witnesses in the case.
“Crap and a half, the guys will shit a brick when they hear this bitch wants blood.” And millions.
Slamming his fist on the mahogany desktop, the computer monitor and files laying on the flat surface bounced from his fury. The time and energy expended over this preposterous suit kept him from his other cases which warranted more attention. After seeing Miss Hathaway at the charity event, he’d originally given one of his junior partners the case, only dealing personally with the occasional email or phone call. Everything else involving paperwork, the paralegal or partners handled, but considering the conversation with the opposing counsel, he decided to personally handle everything from here on out. His primary reason to start was a physical attraction. That had morphed into an intense dislike.
Although the long distance taunting banter, the parry of predator and prey, stimulated his dominant instincts, and he’d enjoyed the lively correspondence, today, she’d crossed the line. Threats got them nowhere in resolving this case. “I’ll show her I’m the more skilled lawyer. No one will get the better of me. I’ll make her—”
The buzzer on the phone intercom interrupted his vocal tirade.
“Mister Prince?” the voice of his assistant came over the speaker.
“Yes, Cathy.”
“I wanted to remind you about your next appointment, sir. Mister Manzio should be here within ten minutes.”
The previous, exasperating conversation with the obnoxious Ms. Hathaway made him lose track of time. “Thanks, Cathy. When he arrives, send him in and hold my calls.”
Ten minutes to compose himself, that’s all he needed, he vehemently chided to himself. Losing self-control remained uncharacteristic even under these circumstances. Fuck! Double fuck! At least the appointment with Manzio wouldn’t be long. A simple case of signing settlement papers, some brief chit-chat, and he’d work on the rebuttal for the club.
After the hour appointment and finishing compiling all the files in regards to the case with Club Tabu, the rest of the day was a complete lost cause. He could work from home just as easily as the office and decided leaving earlier than usual. Wednesdays were always strange days, no court, very few appointments and overall quiet in the halls. Tomorrow he had to deal with a minor traffic case for a friend of his parents. Tonight he’d planned to go to the club. He sure as hell needed to take his mind off the woman who ruined his day.
He normally wasn’t a vengeful type, but for some reason her tone of voice and the way she had goaded him, had him thinking of ways to get back at her. The thirty minute call lasted twenty-five minutes too long. He prided himself on the ability to ride roughshod over his opponents and negotiate a fair and equitable conclusion to any conflict. Dealing with Hathaway would take more finesse, but by the end of the day he came to the conclusion she had intended to anger him. To knock him off-balance and go in for the kill before he realized what happened.
Never again. “Ha, in your dreams, sweetheart.” He half-heartedly laughed as he hit the call button to the elevator.
“With all due respect, Mister Prince, playing golf with the judge occasionally doesn’t give you an inside track to this case. My client has been physically attacked, beaten to the point she needed to be hospitalized for a week, lost wages, and the emotional trauma she has suffered can’t be measured at this point.” The annoying attorney on the other end of the conversation sounded as if in the bottom of a tin can. Mitch shook his head. She obviously put her phone on speaker as well, but didn’t realize she sounded that way. Or maybe she did to goad me.
“First off, I don’t play golf. Second, I sympathize for your client. I honestly do, but what happened to her occurred over a year ago. Holding Club Tabu and my clients negligent for causing harm and damages will have no effect on them in the end. The criminal case proved the alleged attacker not guilty, and your client continues to pursue a worthless suit. You do not stand a chance of getting this claim to jury.”
“We shall see, counsel. You’re right about this being a civil case, but may I remind you the burden of proof for ordinary care by your clients falls under the purview of no reasonable care taken or even the possibility that none was provided to my client. If I can argue to the jury the establishment you represent ignored certain laws or protocols, my client will win the claim. The criminal indictment may have been screwed up by incompetence, but I assure you, I won’t let a dismissal happen the second time.”
“Don’t recite legalese to me. I’m not spending my time arguing our side over the telephone, Miss Hathaway. We’ll file a motion rebutting yours. Your accusations will not hold up, and we’ll drag this out for years. Your client will be old and gray before this even gets to trial. She’ll go broke with the attorney fees alone before she collects one dime from my clients.”
“Don’t threaten me, Mister Prince. We’ve argued this point how many times now? My client is well within her rights to pursue this. File your rebuttal and we’ll counter back. This will go to trial if I have to try it in the court of public opinion.”
Ignoring the idle warning, he steadied his voice and fired back. “I’m well aware of your client’s rights to file suit, but that doesn’t mean you’ll win.”
“Your clients are running nothing more than a place of prostitution and skirting the law. This club abuses and harms poor, helpless women duping them into believing they want to be beaten and raped. We will take this to the limit and will not back down.”
Indignation flared in every cell of Mitch’s body. He could tolerate the annoying woman on the other end of the phone, but what he couldn’t take was ignorance of the lifestyle. So much for keeping calm. In his experienced opinion, the general public, the “vanilla” world didn’t have a clue about what went on in a club or people’s private lives, only their preconceived ideas of what BDSM or D/s encompassed. The opposing counsel participated in the prejudicial mass of people who only thought they knew, labeling it perversion and the participants decadent and psychologically unbalanced.
Maintaining an even tone in his voice instead of lashing out and saying something he’d regret, he sucked in a deep breath before responding. “Miss Hathaway, I’m not about to dignify your ill-informed statement with one of my own. Suffice it to say you’ve been misled about BDSM. This conversation is over. I’ll see you in court.”
“Yes, Mister Prince, you certainly will see me in court, unless your clients agree to mediation. I’ll be petitioning the courts for the next step.”
“We’ve asked for mediation before. You quashed that request. You’re feeling the pressure, aren’t you? At this point, we’re not interested. Good day, Miss Hathaway.” He hissed through his teeth, regretting his harshness and loss of control.
The noise on the other end ceased immediately when he pressed the ‘hands-free’ button. He only wished he could’ve slammed the receiver in her ear instead. More impactful, he thought. As an attorney he rarely lost his temper, always a calm, cool negotiator in any situation, courtroom, business transactions or dungeon. Losing his command over the telephone with a woman, who he’d not had the pleasure of actually meeting, really pissed him off. I plan to wipe the courtroom floor with her infuriating comments.
The lawsuit had been on-going for over a year. No doubt, the woman had been assaulted, but that didn’t mean the club was negligent. Irrespective of his personal concerns for the young woman, because he really was worried about her, he couldn’t let that cloud his judgment in order to protect his clients.
Prince followed the criminal trial closely, but didn’t participate as part of the defense team. When the verdict came in, a sigh of relief came with glee for all the owners, not just him. The short-lived celebration abruptly halted six weeks later. The club and each owner were slapped with a five million dollar lawsuit for negligence and not taking ordinary care in making sure members, especially inexperienced guests, didn’t suffer harm while on the premises. Why the victim’s counsel thought they could win was beyond Prince’s comprehension.
“I hate wasting time and money on a nuisance case.”
The victim hired a high profile attorney named Guilianna Hathaway. Prince had heard her name mentioned around town and seen her in person once at a charity event soon after the civil suit was filed. The press branded her as the women’s rights attorney, fighting injustices in the workplace, domestic victims, and occasionally as a divorce counselor. He’d read a magazine article about her fleeting to the top of the echelon of high-paid lawyers representing the wife of a professional football player. Nasty divorce if he remembered correctly. The wife won a multi-million dollar settlement, but not after dragging the poor dude through the mud for the public to witness. Mitch didn’t like airing people’s dirty laundry for all to see, particularly where children were involved. They were the innocent victims, and he recalled thinking at the time how Miss Hathaway, for all her statements about protecting children, used the two children as witnesses in the case.
“Crap and a half, the guys will shit a brick when they hear this bitch wants blood.” And millions.
Slamming his fist on the mahogany desktop, the computer monitor and files laying on the flat surface bounced from his fury. The time and energy expended over this preposterous suit kept him from his other cases which warranted more attention. After seeing Miss Hathaway at the charity event, he’d originally given one of his junior partners the case, only dealing personally with the occasional email or phone call. Everything else involving paperwork, the paralegal or partners handled, but considering the conversation with the opposing counsel, he decided to personally handle everything from here on out. His primary reason to start was a physical attraction. That had morphed into an intense dislike.
Although the long distance taunting banter, the parry of predator and prey, stimulated his dominant instincts, and he’d enjoyed the lively correspondence, today, she’d crossed the line. Threats got them nowhere in resolving this case. “I’ll show her I’m the more skilled lawyer. No one will get the better of me. I’ll make her—”
The buzzer on the phone intercom interrupted his vocal tirade.
“Mister Prince?” the voice of his assistant came over the speaker.
“Yes, Cathy.”
“I wanted to remind you about your next appointment, sir. Mister Manzio should be here within ten minutes.”
The previous, exasperating conversation with the obnoxious Ms. Hathaway made him lose track of time. “Thanks, Cathy. When he arrives, send him in and hold my calls.”
Ten minutes to compose himself, that’s all he needed, he vehemently chided to himself. Losing self-control remained uncharacteristic even under these circumstances. Fuck! Double fuck! At least the appointment with Manzio wouldn’t be long. A simple case of signing settlement papers, some brief chit-chat, and he’d work on the rebuttal for the club.
After the hour appointment and finishing compiling all the files in regards to the case with Club Tabu, the rest of the day was a complete lost cause. He could work from home just as easily as the office and decided leaving earlier than usual. Wednesdays were always strange days, no court, very few appointments and overall quiet in the halls. Tomorrow he had to deal with a minor traffic case for a friend of his parents. Tonight he’d planned to go to the club. He sure as hell needed to take his mind off the woman who ruined his day.
He normally wasn’t a vengeful type, but for some reason her tone of voice and the way she had goaded him, had him thinking of ways to get back at her. The thirty minute call lasted twenty-five minutes too long. He prided himself on the ability to ride roughshod over his opponents and negotiate a fair and equitable conclusion to any conflict. Dealing with Hathaway would take more finesse, but by the end of the day he came to the conclusion she had intended to anger him. To knock him off-balance and go in for the kill before he realized what happened.
Never again. “Ha, in your dreams, sweetheart.” He half-heartedly laughed as he hit the call button to the elevator.
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