DISCOVERY (Esquire Black Duet Book 1)

by Hayley Faiman

  I’m sure she’ll attempt to rip out my hair if that is my final finding, but I don’t care about her, I only care about the boy, about Fisher.

  Lunch goes by fairly quickly. My contact didn’t tell me much of anything, other than he only knew Mr. Dunning in a business sense.

  He didn’t even know the man had a child.

  That was a bit concerning, but I chalked it up to men not really spilling their life stories the way women do. I became a bit more wary when his secretary approached me.

  Now, she was a wealth of knowledge.

  “Be careful,” she warns as I walk out of the contact’s office.

  I look to the left and widen my eyes. I watch as she stands and lifts her chin. Following behind her, I make my way into their office kitchen.

  She’s pretty, thin, petite, with light brown hair, and she looks a little frightened. It makes me wonder exactly what she knows. I don’t say anything, knowing that if you push skittish people, they’ll clam up and shut down almost immediately. She looks around a few times, assuring that we’re alone before she speaks again.

  “Curtis, he’s into some shady dealings. You’re digging into places you really shouldn’t be. Gambling is just the surface, and it goes deep, much deeper than you could ever imagine. Keep your nose out of these men’s business. Whatever you do, don’t dig anymore. Be done with them and your case.”

  I open my mouth to ask for more clarification, but she skirts around me and takes off out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with my mouth slightly agape. I find myself wondering, not for the first time, what the hell is going on here?

  Sitting in front of the restaurant where I’m supposed to be meeting with my creepy boss, I don’t stop myself from thinking of Curtis Dunning. It’s more than just gambling he’s into, but what, exactly?

  The whole situation and the discussion with that secretary makes me feel extremely uneasy. I’m sure that I won’t be able to bring this up to Aaron.

  If he thinks I can’t hack it, then he’ll pull me off of the case. I need the experience and the hours. I’ll never be a certified child advocacy attorney without them.

  I pick up my phone and decide to send Lillie a text.

  Have fun with your chef. Miss you.

  Just pressing send makes me wonder what she’s up to today, I’m sure that she’s enjoying the gorgeous city of love. Hopefully she’s enjoying her chef too.

  I need to take a lesson from her. She took a leap of faith, she completely changed her entire life around, and I’m here, doing the same shit I was doing last year.

  I’ve always been typically cautious, except when it comes to men. Like with that teacher’s aide. I was burned, but instead of shaking it off, I shut all men out and retreated into myself and focused on only work.

  It’s an evil little cycle, and it looks as though I’m doomed to repeat it with Esquire Asshole.

  Letting out an exhale, I toss my phone back into my bag and exit my crappy, black car.

  Smoothing down my navy pencil skirt, I make sure my white button-up blouse is still neatly tucked into my skirt before I throw my purse strap over my shoulder and make my way inside of the fancy restaurant.

  “How may I help you?” the hostess asks as soon as I step up to her small podium.

  My eyes quickly scan the room, but I don’t see Aaron. “I have a meeting with Mr. McDonald,” I murmur.

  She nods, looking down at her seating arrangement before she asks me to follow behind her.

  Aaron is waiting for me at a small table for two, his lustful gaze directed right at my chest, and I suppress a shiver of disgust as he licks his lips. His smile widens the closer I get to him.

  I won’t be drinking a drop of alcohol tonight. No matter how badly I want to get sloppy drunk, I need my wits about me with this man.

  I mentally remind myself that I need this job, and starting over with my specialty would be a drastic waste of the past year. I only have to suffer his creepiness for two years.

  Just two more years.

  Only two more years.

  I chant inwardly over and over again as I sit down across from him.

  LUCAS

  Meredith Dunning is a fucking pain in my ass. If I thought I could scrape her off, I would.

  Unfortunately, her bill is astronomical, and the firm loves that, so I have to keep her.

  I’ve decided I’m going to have Peg research my clients a little better in the future. I love a recent divorcee, but this bitch is obnoxious.

  “I just don’t understand, Lucas. Why does she have to look into me personally? It’s like she has a vendetta against me,” she whines.

  I feel like this is déjà vu. Meredith whining and assuming Brooklyn is out to get her. Meredith whining and assuming everybody is out to get her.

  I press my fingertips to my forehead and apply a bit of pressure, trying to stave off the headache that I feel coming on.

  “Did you have your evaluation with the psychologist?” I ask, ignoring her whining.

  She nods before rolling her eyes to the ceiling. I watch as she picks at her fifty-dollar steak, not really eating it.

  I didn’t think that she actually would. Lucky for me, this goes on her bill; otherwise, it would piss me off.

  Wasting anything pisses me off—especially my time. Sure, I like nice things, and I enjoy buying expensive things like cars, watches, and suits.

  However, wasting is not something I can agree with—specifically food and time.

  She blathers on about Curtis and says nothing about her son, whom she hasn’t seen since this whole debacle began, or even tried to see.

  I can’t stand this fucking woman.

  My gaze drifts past her, and my spine straightens.

  My eyes widen slightly, and I grind my teeth together at the sight across from me. Brooklyn Myers is sitting right across the room. All I can see is her profile. I glance at the man she’s sitting with, and my stomach twists.

  Aaron fucking McDonald is sitting there, his eyes obviously staring right at her tits, the old perv.

  She’s smiling at him, and it grates on my nerves even more. That smile is fucking mine. How dare she give it to him.

  “You know, if I didn’t know better, I would say that you may not be attracted to me, Lucas,” Meredith pouts.

  My eyes fly to hers, and I don’t stop the short bark of laughter. “I’m not,” I admit. “You’re my client and nothing else.”

  “Until I’m no longer your client, then I’ll finally know why every single person in my social circle recommended you and your big cock,” she purrs.

  Shaking my head once, I lean forward slightly. “It’s not going to happen, Mrs. Dunning. I’m your counsel, and that is all.”

  She stands, smoothing out her skintight dress, slowly running her hands over her body and even cupping her breasts as she does in an effort to look sexy.

  It doesn’t work on me, overly sexual in public is not a turn-on. She’s disgusting inside, and nothing, not one single thing on the outside, could redeem that.

  Maybe I never took the time to get to know my other clients. Most of them didn’t force themselves on me the way that she has, but they also weren’t such pieces of shit parents. At least not all of them.

  I’ve represented my fair share of parents who were selfish, self-consumed, and probably a bit neglectful, but not to the extent of the Dunnings—at least not that I’m aware of.

  Meredith walks over to me, her red-tipped fingernails trailing up my arm and to my neck before they skim my jaw. My eyes flick up to hers, and I wait for her to speak.

  “When this is over, Lucas, you’ll end this case buried inside of me, anywhere you want. Don’t think that you can resist me. I know you can’t,” she whispers before she saunters away.

  I don’t want her. She doesn’t interest me. She can think whatever she wants to think, but there’s only one woman I want to be buried inside of—my kitten.

  Except, right now, she’s out to dinner with anothe
r man, and I’m fucking pissed off about it. That shit is about to end right now.

  Signing the bill, I stand and make my way toward Brooklyn’s table, my cock growing harder with each step.

  It’s been over a week since I’ve seen her—nine days too long. The taste I had didn’t quench my thirst, not in the slightest.

  It made me hungrier for her.

  I only wish I would have taken the time out of my busy schedule to continue making her mine.

  I’ve been fucking swamped lately. My late nights and early mornings at the office have made me unable to give her the attention I should have.

  Which has resulted in a painfully hard dick, and I’m sure a bit of animosity toward me on her part.

  “Mr. Black, how may I help you today?” Aaron asks as soon as I approach their table.

  I don’t bother looking down at him. He isn’t worth my time. Only she is. Brooklyn turns and tips her head back, her plump lips parting in awe.

  I want to bury my cock down her throat right here and now, claim her in front of the world, especially in front of sleazy McDonald.

  “You done?” I ask her, tipping my head down to her empty plate.

  She nods, and I hold my hand out for her. McDonald sputters from his seat, and Brooklyn tells him something.

  What, I don’t hear, my focus on Brooklyn and only Brooklyn. Her small, cool fingers slip in mine—and as soon as they do, I grip them tightly.

  “Aaron,” I grunt before I turn around and tug her toward the exit.

  I feel her pulling on me, but I don’t stop my movement until we’re outside. Then I swing her around and tug her against my chest. Her eyes widen and her hands brace on my upper body for support.

  She opens her mouth, probably to bitch at me, but I couldn’t give a fuck. My lips crash against hers, and I grunt as my tongue fills her warm, waiting mouth.

  Nibbling her bottom lip, I inhale her sweet scent before I pull away from her.

  “What the hell?” she breathes.

  “You fucking your boss?” I demand.

  Her eyes widen and she tries to take a step back, but I don’t allow it, holding her close. “You’re a fucking asshole,” she grinds.

  “No shit. You drive here?”

  Her eyes narrow and she presses her lips shut, refusing to answer me.

  “You either get in my car and come home with me, or we go back to your place and I follow you.”

  I massage her back gently, my eyes focused on hers and nowhere else. When she’s in my vision, nothing else exists. I don’t like how that feels, but I can’t fight it, not when she’s standing right in front of me.

  She’s trying to decide which move is her best one. I wait her out and watch as she gives in—to me. Her body sags in defeat. I should feel guilty, but I don’t.

  I’m going to be inside of this tight body tonight, and she’ll forgive me after I’ve made her come a few times.

  “My place,” she sighs.

  Chapter Nine

  BROOKLYN

  Pulling my car up in my driveway, I wonder for the millionth time, why my neighbor can’t be into me.

  This whole thing with Lucas would be a moot point if he were. He’s hot and he’s right around the corner.

  Letting out a sigh, I wonder why on earth I let Lucas kiss me, hold me, and demand that we go to his place or mine.

  Ten days of silence, he waltzes over to my dinner table and poof, I completely let it all slide?

  Where’s Lillie when I need her?

  She’d definitely have something to say about Lucas—without a doubt. She would definitely talk some damn sense into me, too.

  I’m stupid.

  And for whatever reason, I’m about to let this man walk all over me or maybe I already have?

  Opening my car door, I stand and slowly make my way up my walkway. I can feel him behind me almost instantly. He sucks the air away from where I am, where he is, he’s an enigma.

  Lucas’ warm palm wraps around my hip, and it’s as though I’m naked—he’s like an inferno, I can feel his touch through the fabric of my clothes.

  All thoughts of my stalker completely disappear.

  “Open your door,” he whispers against my neck as his lips press firmly against my skin.

  I fumble with the doorknob, unlocking it as quickly as I can. Stepping over the threshold, I try to ignore Lucas’ heat right on my back, I fail.

  I toss my purse and keys on the small table by the door as his hand slips around my hip and his palm presses against my stomach.

  “Lucas,” I mutter.

  I almost call him, baby, but we are definitely not there yet. He has pet names for me, but I’m not sure how he’d react to me having one for him.

  Plus, me having a pet name for him would be way too personal. I can’t let myself forget how he attempted to woo me, then poof, vanished.

  His lips skim my neck again, “I want you to go upstairs and to take off everything. I want you naked, Brooklyn. I’m going to take you tonight, and you’re going to give me exactly what I’ve been dreaming of,” he murmurs, nipping my skin.

  My entire body breaks out in goosebumps, and I shiver in his arms. I feel his lips smile against my neck.

  As much as I want to do exactly what he’s asked of me. I can’t let him get away with it, with his silence, with his ignoring me for days.

  “Where have you been the past ten days?” I ask.

  His lips touch my neck again, seemingly unaffected by my question, before he turns me around in his arms. His eyes look down, and they’re so green and so serious, that I find I could get lost in them—very easily lost in them.

  “Working, Brooklyn.”

  “Working,” I repeat, unbelieving that that is his excuse. It’s a piss poor excuse and I refuse to buy it.

  He snorts. “Not that I have to explain anything to you,” he announces as he takes a step back from me. I bristle from his tone combined with his words. This asshole.

  “But, yeah. I’ve been working. I’m a thirty-six-year-old partner. I didn’t become that way by only being in the office from nine-to-five every day. I work long hours, I work weekends, and sometimes I sleep at my office. I’m not out partying,” he states, his eyes narrowing.

  Squaring my shoulders, I nod. “No, you really don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m nobody. But when a man puts his fingers inside of me, comes on my boobs, and then poof, vanishes, call me crazy, but I’d kind of like to know what the hell happened for the ten days he’s gone.

  “I’m not even going to get into the fact that you just showed up and dragged me away from a working dinner, with my boss, like some kind of caveman,” I practically yell, my face hot from getting pissed and worked up.

  Lucas doesn’t say anything. He takes a step closer to me, bends slightly, and grabs ahold of my ass, his fingers digging into me so hard that I would be surprised if I didn’t have some kind of bruising. I let out a cry of protest when he picks me up.

  Silently, he stomps up my stairs and walks directly into my bedroom. I’m wriggling and shifting in his arms, but his grasp stands firm, unrelenting that is, until he dumps me on my bed, unceremoniously.

  I stare up at him in complete shock, unsure of what to say or do next. My mouth is slack-jawed, and I feel completely embarrassed and immediately pissed off.

  “Were you jealous, kitten?” he asks, his tone softer, yet still holding onto some of his harshness.

  I press my lips together, refusing to admit that I wasn’t jealous per se, I was hurt. Admitting being hurt is a lot more vulnerability that I’m willing to show this asshole.

  Any admission of feeling is giving him more than he deserves. I’ll be damned if I give him any more ammunition to use against me.

  He lifts his leg, sinking his knee in the bed beside my hip as he shifts so that his nose slides alongside mine. My betraying eyelids flutter closed at the gentility of the move.

  “I haven’t touched anyone, Brooklyn,” he murmurs. “Nobody since y
ou.”

  The victory I feel from his admission is ridiculous, but I still feel it. That victorious feeling floods my entire body.

  His lips graze mine gently as one of his fists sinks into the mattress at the other side of my hip. His other hand slides around the front of my neck to hold me loosely.

  “I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you, Brooklyn,” he admits as his hand tightens around my neck.

  My breathing speeds up slightly, hitching at his words as I shiver in his hold.

  I want more, so much more from him. I hate myself for it, too. I shouldn’t want anything to do with him. I should kick his ass out of my house.

  I should turn my back and never look at him again. But my body doesn’t get the memo. My body not only wants more from him—she craves it.

  “Whatever this is, right now, it’s you and me. I’m not fucking anybody while I’m fucking you. And you, beautiful, your body is mine, too.”

  That right there. Those words—I’m not fucking anybody while I’m fucking you—that is my cue to run.

  That is nothing but momentary monogamy, that is something men like him say to get their way.

  That doesn’t mean that he wants anything more than a few romps in the bedroom. When he’s tired of me, he’ll toss me away like an old shoe.

  “If I don’t agree?” I ask. I very much want to agree.

  I have a feeling that he could get me to agree to just about anything. His charm and charisma are not lost on me, in fact, I’m so into him, it’s ridiculous.

  I’ve wanted him since the beginning, no matter how much I deny it.

  Him buying me my own pizza and making a margarita for me kind of sealed the deal, as sad as that is. That’s the nicest thing a man has done for me since high school.

  “Kitten, you agree,” he rasps. Then before I can protest, his lips press against mine and his tongue surges inside of my mouth.

  I feel his fingers tug at the buttons of my blouse as his hand tightens once around my neck before it disappears.

  When he’s tasted me completely, he stands and straightens. I look up at him through my lashes, watching as he silently unbuttons his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.