CHAPTER TWO

Katalina Goldwyn Bakker knocked three times on the front door of the Castle loft, and then quickly moved to the far left of the entrance and tightly closed her eyes. And then, as she waited, she slowly counted to herself until she reached the number ten. Despite the fact that for over the past thirteen years she had been carrying the key to the front door on her key ring, for more than the past few years, she always knocked, stepped to the left, and then shut her eyes tightly. And counted.

Admittedly, there had only been one incident, and that was over seven or eight or maybe nine years ago, when Castle had abruptly opened the door dressed in what was best described as "a hangover, wearing a new tattoo, and not much else". He wasn't embarrassed in the least, but in her role as the official Castle family lawyer, Katalina Goldwyn Bakker was of the opinion that she already knew enough Castle family secrets; and, so, she performed this little piece of choreography to prevent herself from acquiring even more knowledge.

However, after almost thirty seconds of silence, it was becoming apparent that no one was home this early afternoon. Katalina took a few short steps to the right, inserted her key into the lock, and cracked open the door just wide enough for her head to enter the living area. "Hello? Anybody? Richard Edgar? Alexis? Martha, are you here?" There was only silence. Remembering another incident that involved her walking into an episode of some sort of laser tag and quickly becoming a prisoner of some alien race apparently led by Alexis, Katalina called out one last time, this time chancing an advance of her shoulders as she leaned in and turned her head to ensure that no one was lying in wait behind the door. "Okay, last chance. Is anyone home?" It was very quiet, far too quiet for any member of the Castle family to be in the premises. After all, the words "quiet" and "reserved" applied to no known member of Castle's family tree, living or dead.

Apparently satisfied that she was not walking into a den of vampires or whatever scenario Richard Edgar Castle might have created under the guise of "research", Katalina relaxed somewhat, still not totally convinced that some marginally mature writer might yet make a sudden and perhaps maniacal appearance. She turned her body to pick up her briefcase that she had left in the hall before starting her ritual entrance, and only then did she enter the loft.

"What I go through for Richard Edgar. . ." she muttered as she shut the door behind her and made sure it was locked before turning to the alarm panel and deactivating it with her personal code. Only then did she proceed physically into the space with her briefcase as she dropped her keys into the side pocket of the bag.

Katalina had been a new associate at a prestigious mid-town law firm when Richard Edgar Castle had first spied her those years ago. He was being lectured by Attorneys Zimmerman, Watkins, and Feltcher about the need for decorum when appearing at his increasingly popular book signings, and how autographing the cleavage of his adoring female fans was perhaps not presenting the best side of the twenty-seven year old author with the very promising career ahead of him. Castle found his attention wandering from the topic. Heck, he thought, I'm a good looking single male with lots of time on my hands and in the presence of lots of women. If I want to autograph a few tits, I'm gonna do just that. And, at that moment

Although she had walked past several glass paned offices that housed males of varying ages and apparent physical ability, all wearing ties and jackets in varying shades of navy or charcoal gray, no one had offered to help the just over five foot tall woman with her burden. After a few more steps, it was becoming very apparent to Katalina that she had misjudged not only the distance to her cubicle, but also her strength and the weight of the banker's box. There was no way around the physics: She was not going to be able to complete the journey to the far end of the hall before the contents became too heavy for her to carry. Accordingly, she started to frantically look for a place to rest the box. Unfortunately, she didn't see any such space at the ready. And then, the box began to slip from her grasp. "Oh, damn . . ."

That was the moment when she discovered that a tall, ruggedly handsome man had appeared from out of nowhere and was easily relieving her of the weight of the box. "Ma'am," he said as he winked, smiled, and mimed the doffing of a large brimmed cowboy hat, "I always make it a priority to assist any and all damsels in distress." Katalina thought him somewhat familiar although she couldn't remember any details about where or when they might have previously met. Still, she couldn't help but notice that he handled the heavy box with great ease using only one hand. A quick glance up at him showed a muscular forearm and a well developed bicep that seemed to be trying to escape from the confines of his white cotton shirt. "Where do you want this?" he asked her, turning a graceful 360 degree circle in the hall without seeing any plausible destination in sight. When he turned back to face her directly, she noted his dancing blue eyes and she thought, correctly, that every woman he had ever encountered with that expression of concentration, had thought the exact same thought that was crossing Katalina's mind at this moment: Wow! Yeah, this man was the exception to the rule. Whatever rule that was. And, she really didn't care. But she forced herself to return to reality for the time being.

"Ah, all the way down the hall . . ." was as far as Katalina got. The man made another fluid half turn on his heels and turned his attention to the inhabitants of the conference room, all of whom Katalina instantly identified. To her horror, she realized that her self-appointed delivery boy had probably bailed out of the conference room while meeting with three of the four most senior partners of the firm. And, despite the fact that she had clearly needed some immediate assistance, the top brass was not at all amused as to this turn of events.

As the man turned in profile, Katalina suddenly realized why he seemed so familiar. Although she had seen his face for years on the dust jackets of his books; she had almost failed to identify him in the flesh. Of course! This was Richard Castle, the young best selling mystery writer, and one of the firm's most important clients. And, she was solely responsible for disrupting whatever legal business they had been in the middle of conducting. Katalina realized that, after almost a full year at the firm, she was about to be instantly labeled as a known disruption. That was not a good thing to be known as – associates were like mice, to be where they were instructed to be, doing what needed to be done, and to toil unnoticed for as long as it took to get noticed, if that ever actually happened.

Katalina quickly deduced the dynamics that were being displayed to all concerned. Richard Castle seemed more than happy to hang out with her outside of the conference room. In fact, he seemed almost eager to remain at a distance from the senior partners, one of whom was making less than subtle glances at the Rolex on his wrist while simultaneously giving her dismissive glances. That fact seemed lost on Castle, who kept smiling at the much shorter woman, while he was still holding onto the file box, and remaining secure in the knowledge that he, not Zimmerman, was in control of the situation. And, Richard Castle clearly enjoyed being the one in charge.

Castle was no fool; he enjoyed allowing others to underestimate his superior intelligence, and then, when the timing was right, he seemed to effortlessly soar above all others when he decided it was the time to flex his mind. He had fully realized that pattern of behavior at an early age, and it quickly became his modus operandi. Many of his opponents never knew what hit them, and to be honest, despite having a muscular, solid build on his six foot plus frame, Rick Castle preferred out thinking his opponents to resorting to physical force. Castle knew the value of charm, and he knew that he could not only sell ice cubes to Eskimos, but if he really turned on the charm, he could overcharge and they still would line up to purchase his frozen water.

Castle's initial best selling murder mystery had been published shortly after the college student had celebrated his twenty-first birthday. Almost no one knew that he had started writing while in junior high in order to keep himself occupied (and out of trouble) while his mother, the stage actress Martha Rogers, was on tour in some new city every few weeks. Martha, determined to remain a working actress despite the presence of a son, had simply brought Richard along, often treating him either as a pet or as a prop as she auditioned, rehearsed, and acted. Castle's life was one of a nomadic existence, ruled by his mother's needs at that time. While men were a part of his mother's life, they were merely part of a frequently changing cast in his mother's world, and made little impact on the boy. And, being the very intelligent being that he was, Castle realized that someday it was going to be up to him to care for Martha. So, if writing would allow him to accomplish this goal, he accepted his fate. He had allowed his publisher, Black Pawn, to manipulate his image to generate maximum sales to romance-starved female readers, knowing that if he was a success by age 21, he would never need to look back.

Castle spoke again. True to form, he had again dismissed Zimmerman and was addressing the associate. "Sorry, where did you say should I be taking this for you?"

Zimmerman didn't even glance up from the collection of contracts that had been spread over the conference table and were awaiting Castle's signature. "It doesn't matter. She doesn't work here anymore."

Castle's left eyebrow arched upwards, seemingly almost reaching his hairline. "I'm sorry to hear that, Roger. Then I guess our relationship just reached an impass." As that sentence was being digested by Zimmerman, Castle unceremoniously dropped the box onto the table with a loud thud. He glanced at the woman who was taking the news of her newly acquired unemployment status with considerable calmness. "By the way, I'm Richard Castle. And you are. . .?"

"Goldwyn. Katalina Goldwyn. I kind of figured out who you are, Mr. Castle. Sorry, I haven't read any of your books, I'm not a big fan of murder mysteries. I prefer science fiction. No malice intended. I don't want you to take that comment as an insult."

He appreciated her honesty. "Call me Rick. Actually, Richard Castle. Rick Castle. Richard Edgar. Richard Edgar Castle. Pick one, pick a combination, I'm still figuring which of my names I'm gonna use from here on. Hey, are you a lawyer?"

"Contractual. Or, I was until about two minutes ago."

From his tall vantage point, Castle allowed himself to do what he enjoyed doing: this was a somewhat attractive female, obviously intelligent, considerably shorter than he was, and he was looking down the front of her blouse. More than adequate, he thought, actually quite generous; she filled it out nicely. And, although it was tougher these days to be certain, they looked real. Too bad he didn't have the opportunity to cop a feel, he'd like to know for certain. Before she could realize what he was doing, he moved his focus to the top of her head. He couldn't see any dark roots. A platinum blonde with green eyes, a full rack, and a legal degree. He could do worse. He dropped his voice. "You any good?" he asked.

She decided to allow the double entendre to slide past her without further comment, replying to his three word questions without any further hesitation. "I'd like to think so. Undergrad degree from the University of Connecticut, then, Yale Law School. Interned in Washington, D.C. And, for a Senator, no less. Yeah, I'd say I'm good." She looked up at him, and took a step closer to the man. He was taller than she had initially thought. He had to have at least a foot of height over her. 'And, most importantly, Richard Edgar, I'm the worker bee who wrote what you were supposed to be signing this afternoon." She paused. "Personally, if I were you, I wouldn't sign. Certainly, not in it's present state. And more certainly, not without reading it very, very carefully."

So much for my career, she thought. Take rifle, shoot self in foot. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Taking Castle's lead, she refused to look at Zimmerman and concentrated her focus on Castle's blue eyes, a rather enjoyable task.

Castle heard the remnants of a New England accent. She had probably worked on trying to eliminate it, but he thought it was charming. And, he was interested. "How was the Senate?"

She laughed. Castle liked her laugh. It was operatic in nature, effortlessly running through at least three octaves. "Lots of hot air."

Castle realized that he was looking at her from a different perspective. And Castle, being who he was, decided on the spot that this was the lady lawyer for him. Heck with the stuffed shirt who had his name first on the masthead of the firm, he wanted to deal with the zaftig platinum blonde with the big tits, the green eyes, and the lyrical laugh. He'd mention his preference for tighter sweaters later. It could be fun. Fun for them both.

For the first time since he had first seen her, Castle turned to the stuffed shirts in the conference room. "Zimmerman, you're fired. I never liked you. And, since you had already terminated this lawyer, she is technically no longer an employee, there is no conflict of interest. Katalina, congratulations, you're now my lawyer. Tomorrow you will be at my place and together we'll review the paperwork. I'm guessing it is highly favorable to this firm?"

"Count on it."

"Can you eliminate that? Kind of equalize the playing field? That's if I reconsider my decision to leave . . ?"

It was her turn to smile. "Just watch me."

Yeah, this felt right. He would have to face his mother when she got home from her play reading, but it just felt right to him. "Here. . ." He removed a key from his keychain and handed it to her. "This is your key. I prefer to conduct all of my business within my home. I see enough paper, no reason for me to carry it all over the City. That will be your job." He picked up the banker's box from the table and gracefully motioned at the contracts on the table with his fingers. "I'll take the pile on the left, you take the pile on the right, and we'll compare notes tomorrow. You a coffee drinker? I have a great cappuccino machine. We'll let Zimmerman know in about a week whether his services are still necessary. Need to clean out your desk?" Richard Castle suddenly paused and looked at her. "And, we have to discuss tighter sweaters for you."

She shook her head. "Not until I loose at least another 25 pounds. Then, I'll take it under advisement."

He smiled at her. The line had been drawn, and she was willing to play to some extent. This could be interesting a little further down the line. "Heard and acknowledged," the author replied. She put the last of the contracts was into the box that he was holding. Castle decided that he had had enough of being an adult.

"For the hell of it, let's take all the paper clips in your desk. Shall we?"

Neither of them paid any attention to the stuffed shirts as he followed her out of the conference room turning left toward her cubical. If either of them were uneasy at the sudden business relationship, neither gave a hint.

Katalina patted the side pocket in her briefcase. The key to Castle's front door was there. The same key he had given her the day they had met. Since then, she had married and divorced Norman Baker. It had been a big mistake, and Castle had held her hand throughout the ordeal, never reminding her that he had tried to tell her not to do it. In turn, she had been there for him during his quickie marriage and even quicker divorce from Gina. She knew that Castle was troubled by the stigma of having been divorced twice. At least he had his Alexis, not to mention Martha. As for the "them" part of the equation, she was still trying to loose those last 25 pounds, so although Castle kept asking about the tighter sweaters, she continued to hold him off.

Of course, she had proven to be as smart as Castle, and between the two of them, Castle's wealth had not only increased, but Katalina had enabled Castle to know that, whatever might occur in the future, his mother would never have to rely on her acting salary, and Castle knew that of something was to happen to him tomorrow, Alexis would never know poverty.

That thought led her to the reason she was here today. She made her way into the kitchen to boil water for a cup of tea. Castle had phoned her 48 hours earlier and dropped a bombshell. He informed her that his reserve unit had been activated and he would be shortly on his way to Afghanistan. Martha did not yet know, and Alexis did not yet know. Castle had told her that he would inform them this evening. However he had a much more important task for her to perform.

He had asked to change his will. He wanted to name someone new to watch over Alexis, just in case he failed to return, and he had requested this new person be added immediately.

Katalina had some idea of who Detective Katherine Beckett, aka Nikki Heat, actually was. But she didn't know how the Detective would welcome the news that she was about to have five million dollars deposited to her bank account, courtesy of Richard Castle. And, when Katalina began her due diligence only to discover that Beckett had a boyfriend, she knew she needed to find out what was really behind Castle's intentions.

She did not welcome the conversation. "Maybe I should have lost the weight, Richard Edgar's hands would be foundling my breasts on a continual basis, and I'd own the world's largest collection of thin, tight sweaters," she muttered half to herself and half to the teapot.

Katalina then began organizing the documents the man would need to sign to accomplish his goals. Katalina did not smile until she heard Castle's key in the front door nearly two hours later.