by Jamie Knight
“I’d settle for a small smile from him,” she continued. “He didn’t even bother to call me on Friday about the case I’ll be working on. His assistant sent me an email to tell me to report here on Monday morning. I’m sure he couldn’t pick me out of a lineup. I’m here to do the grunt work, so none of the other associates have to.”
She moved to the end of the conference room and set down the box she’d been carrying. I moved closer to the door but didn’t go in.
“I’m good at my job, and now I’ve been given the opportunity, I need to prove myself. The stupid crush I have on Mr. Big Lawyer Man will remain just that. Besides, I’m hardly his type. The country’s top celebrity divorce lawyer isn’t going to date a Brooklyn girl who jiggles when she wiggles. He dates the New York elite. Lyla what’s-her-face, the judge’s daughter. I can hardly march up to him and say, ‘do you have a date for the Christmas party? Want to be my plus one?’ Anyway, I bet he’s a narcissist.”
I stifled a chuckle. I wasn’t a narcissist, but I would admit to being arrogant. This could be an interesting and satisfying situation for both of us. She was wrong about Lyla. We were no longer dating, and it seemed I’d been wrong about Pearl.
The professional persona she presented wasn’t who she truly was, and I had an urge to discover precisely who hid beneath the corporate suits.
I, of course, couldn’t ask her out. That would raise far too many eyebrows. It was too close to the law firm’s merger and the other managing partners would disapprove. But if she fantasized about me, perhaps I could quietly help make some of those fantasies come true.
For the past few years, nameless one-night stands I’d picked up online and at the Dark Club had been fine. Then Lyla came along pretending to be submissive when she was anything but. She still hadn’t accepted we were through and was now borderline stalking me.
What if I had someone I could have a mutually beneficial relationship with? Someone who wanted to enter a D/s relationship and who required training. Inching into the room, I leaned against the doorframe. My dick began to fill, but I forced myself to calm the fuck down.
Eavesdropping like this wasn’t fair, and I should do something to alert her to my presence, but that would stop her talking and I wasn’t done listening.
Not the best way to start our relationship — professional or otherwise. I didn’t want her to know I’d overheard her conversation. But what if she did? What if I told her I’d heard her talk about vibrators and satisfying herself to thoughts of me? While she kept talking, I considered my options.
She moved towards the window and leaned her head against the pane where she looked down the hundred floors to the street below.
“I should totally do that.” She laughed, the sound dirty and deep. “That would be real professional. I should go into his office and do my best Sharon Stone impression. Because it’s not like I don’t need this job.” She laughed again. “Totally agree. He’s super sexy. Even thinking about working with him on this case has left my panties soaked and my nipples hard. But I need to prove my worth. I want an associate position. I’m sick of being seen as a greenhorn junior.”
Training innocent Pearl to become my pet would be enjoyable. No one in the office knew about my personal life or my proclivities. I liked to be in control in the courtroom and bedroom. In both places, I always got what I wanted. I never backed down. And I never lost. Challenges drove me. And while seducing Pearl wouldn’t be a huge challenge, introducing her to my world might be.
I turned around to go back to my office, but Pearl’s head whipped around as I did. She recoiled as if she’d encountered a knife-wielding maniac. Her emerald eyes widened in horror, and her lips dropped open.
“Shit. Crap. Shit.” Her hand flew to her mouth, and from where I stood, I could see the pulse racing in her throat. “Mr. Matthews. I didn’t see you standing there. Hi. Good morning.”
My eyes traveled up and down her the length of her body and back up again. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her to undress and lay on the table so I could eat her out. If I asked her to go into my office and masturbate for me, would she?
She lowered her hand and pressed it against her stomach. “I’ll call you later.” She pulled her AirPods from her ears and clasped them in her hand. “I didn’t realize you’d be in this early.”
“I’m always in this early.”
“I wasn’t aware.” Her eyes darted all around the office and she licked her lips. “Did you, uh, overhear my conversation? I can explain.”
I moved toward the coffee bar. To lie or tell the truth? To stop her from fleeing the office in tears or embarrassment I decided to go with a lie. “I didn’t hear a word. I just arrived a few minutes ago.”
Relief lowered her shoulders, and Pearl blew out a long sigh. “Good. That’s good. It was a bit, um, personal.”
“Why are you here before dawn, Ms. Holmes?”
“I wanted to make a good impression on my first case.” She nodded towards the box she’d been carrying. “I baked cookies for everyone. Shortbread with royal icing and sprinkles. Everyone loves sprinkles. I prefer no sprinkles, but it’s Christmas, so I went with sprinkles.”
I raised an eyebrow. Nerves were making her babble. The Dom in me liked her reaction. “Would you like a coffee?”
“Isn’t that my job? To get your coffee?”
“Despite what you might have heard, I’m not a narcissist who expects people to wait on him hand and foot. I’m more than capable of getting my own coffee and getting coffee for other people. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Pearl. And I suspect there’s a lot I don’t know about you.”
She nodded and grabbed the back of a chair, holding on as if her life depended on it. “I’m excited for this opportunity, Mr. Matthews. I’ve been dying to work with you for ages. I appreciate you giving me the chance. I’m ready for an associate position, and this is a great way to prove it.”
“This case isn’t going to be easy. Neither is working for me. I’ll fill you in on the ins and outs when everyone gets here. It’s a messy divorce. This case could be a bloodbath.”
“That’s the reason I got into this area of law. To see if I could help stop people who once were in love from destroying one another.”
“In this line of business, I’ve learned that most people are out for revenge. Call me jaded, but I no longer believe in love.”
Chapter Two – Pearl
In a few more seconds, my heart would jump out of my chest and run for the hills. If Mr. Matthews had heard any of what I’d said, he would have fired me on the spot, or I would have quit.
My neighbor and best friend Isabella had called me while on her spin bike. Most days, we spoke at the same time. She worked as the CEO’s secretary at McKenzie Tech. Besides the odd Netflix bingeathon, we rarely got time to see one another.
Celebrity gossip was her weakness, and when I told her I was going to assist James Matthews on a case, she’d freaked out and asked for every detail, but I couldn’t tell her anything because I didn’t know whose divorce case it was. Even if I did, my contract would prevent me from whispering a word.
James Matthews was the biggest celebrity divorce lawyer in the country and over-the-top gorgeous. With his chiseled jaw, athletic build, and his just tumbled out of bed hair, he was my fantasy man. And when it came to matrimonial and family law, he was an encyclopedia. I could, and would, learn a lot from him.
Watercooler gossip suggested that James pushed people past their limit and to their breaking point. He could push me as far and as hard as he wanted. I wouldn’t break. I might look like butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth, but I was tougher than a soldier with ten tours under his belt.
As far as everyone in the office knew, I was all peaches and cream and the girl next door, and in some ways, I was.
I liked to bake cookies and cupcakes, and I liked to make people smile. My mom had always said you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. B
ut that didn’t mean I didn’t have a darker side that craved someone to control and command me.
The way James now studied me from beneath his hooded eyelids sent shivers to my toes. I’d been telling the truth when I’d told Bella the thought of working with him left my panties soaked. Last night, I hadn’t been able to sleep because of my sky-high arousal. Since Friday, when his assistant told me to report to the conference room on Monday to take up the free spot on his team, I’d been on the verge of instantly orgasming.
Perhaps if I had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t be this horny, but I didn’t have time for relationships. My career was my sole focus.
I might not have time for a relationship, but I did have time to get lost in my fantasies. In all of them, James would screw me into oblivion. A girl could dream, right?
He pulled out the chair at the head of the table, sat, and poured over documents, stopping for a few seconds here and there to take a sip of coffee and a bite of a cookie.
Unsure of what to do, I sat at the other end of the table and waited for the other associates to arrive.
Every now and then, his brow furrowed, and his lips moved while he read, but other than that, his face gave nothing away.
By eight, the rest of the associates had trickled in, and once everyone had sat down, James stood and cleared his throat.
“Everyone, I’d like you to welcome Pearl to our team. She’s baked some Christmas cookies for us. They’re delicious. I recommend the ones with sprinkles.” I would die. James said my cookies were delicious. There were a few sniggers and some murmured words of thanks.
Susan Murphy, an associate who’d graduated from Cornell a few years before me, rolled her eyes. “Pollyanna strikes again. I’ll pass.”
Smith Jones, a six-year associate, reached into the box and grabbed a handful. “More for me.”
Ryan Butler, a new hire who’d been poached from a rival firm, snagged two.
While I hadn’t worked on any cases with anyone sitting around the table, we were all aware of one another. And each of us knew that in the New Year, a senior associate position was up for grabs — one that would set the appointee on the road to partner. The competition and the backbiting would make The Hunger Games seem tame. I wasn’t ready to become a senior associate, but I was more than ready to move on from being a junior.
James looked directly at me. “Pearl, we’re representing Michelle Chastain in her divorce from Daniel Chastain. My hope is to avoid court, but we may not have a choice. Mr. Chastain has disappeared with his pregnant mistress. We haven’t made anything public because the last thing we need is a media circus. We’ve filed the petition. It’s only a matter of time before it becomes common knowledge.”
I inhaled a sharp breath. “They’re divorcing? No way! But they seem so much in love. Weren’t they on the red carpet a few months back for his new movie? She looked to die for in her blue, sparkly dress.”
Susan groaned. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Enough,” James barked. “They’re not ‘so much in love.’ Michelle is stopping by my office in two hours. Where are we? Anyone got any leads on who his mistress is and where they’re hiding? We can’t prove adultery without evidence.”
Silence filled the room. James’s eyes drifted around the four of us.
“No one found out anything?” He slammed his hands against the table. “Come on, people, we can’t move forward until we find Daniel and the mistress. So far, we have nothing only Michelle’s accusations and a blurry photo.”
I cleared my throat. “What’s the mistress’s name?”
“Jane Doe.” He picked up a photo and passed it my way.
My eyes widened. “She looks like Sophia Landers except with blonde hair. I guess everyone has a doppelgänger.”
“Who’s Sophia Landers?” Smith asked while biting into his fifth cookie.
“She grew up on my block. We went to St. Francis together, but she was always shy and introverted and had long black hair, not blonde.” I shrugged. “Maybe they just look alike.” I glanced from the photo to James.
“Do you think you can find out where she is so we can cross her off the list?” he asked. “We’re running out of options.”
“Sure. Her grandmother is coming to my mom’s cookie exchange on Friday night. Our whole block does it every year. It’s tons of fun. If you think my cookies are delicious, you need to taste my mom’s. They melt in your mouth.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus, save me from this.” Susan looked like she wanted to hit me over the head with a shovel. “You make it sound like your life is a crappy Hallmark movie. Next, you’ll be telling us about the childhood sweetheart you fell back in love with after he showed you the magic of Christmas with his dick.”
I ignored Susan’s bitterness. “What do you need me to find out?”
“Everything you can. Michelle said Daniel met his mistress at a strip club while filming in Vegas.”
I shook my head. “Definitely not the right person. Sophia’s grandmother would drag her to church and dunk her in holy water before shipping her off to a nunnery if she even set foot inside a strip club.”
“We still need to take her out of the equation.”
“I’ll see what I can find out.”
****
By Friday, exhaustion left me teetering. James demanded more from me than any other person I’d ever worked with. If he said jump, we all asked how high. If it wasn’t for my mom’s cookie exchange tonight, I would have stayed home, crawled under the blankets, and watched Christmas movies all weekend.
I’d met Michelle Chastain twice this week. She was an absolute angel, and my heart broke for her. I’d made her tea and held her hand while she cried. Daniel had humiliated her and shattered her self-confidence and self-belief. I would do what it took to track the motherfucker down.
On Monday afternoon, after James had shown me the blurry photo, I called my mom and asked if she knew where Sophia was living. She said she hadn’t seen her for a few years, but the last she’d heard was that Sophia had moved to California and was trying to get into screenwriting.
Her grandmother would for sure be at the cookie exchange this week, and I could find out more from her.
I’d been so busy I hadn’t even had time to bake my cookies. I’d been half tempted to stop by the supermarket and pick up two dozen, but my mom would have had a conniption and disowned me. She baked everything from scratch and could sniff out a preservative-laden, store-bought cookie a mile away.
Growing up, I often teased her about being born in the wrong era. She was more suited to the 1950s. When my dad left, she hadn’t even known how to balance her checkbook. She soon learned. My dad was another reason I’d gotten into law. I wanted to make sure no man would ever screw over his wife and kids the way my dad had screwed over my mom and me.
Once I shut my apartment door, I threw everything on the floor and kicked off my shoes. While making the cookie dough, I watched A Wish for Christmas on The Hallmark Channel. I loved the feel-good sweetness of their movies but often thought they’d be better if there was some crazy swinging from the chandelier sex involved.
Did people who lived in small towns never get their crazy on? You can bet your ass if I met a sexy, brooding man in a small, snow-covered Vancouver town cutting down trees for the local homeless shelter, I would drop my panties and bend over in a heartbeat.
Once my cookies were ready, I dusted them with powdered sugar. No royal icing or fancy decorations this year. My mom would have to understand.
I threw on my ugliest Christmas sweater, jeans, and knee-length Uggs. Every year, I won the ugly sweater competition, and this year would be no different. I jingled and jangled with every step I took. I practically wore Santa’s workshop on my body.
On the subway, with my cookies safely in a box on my lap, my mind drifted back to James. Not that my thoughts ever went anywhere else these days. A few times this week, I’d caught him examining me. The perplexed
expression on his face made me think he couldn’t figure me out. Heck, sometimes I couldn’t even figure myself out.
Those dark, chocolate brown eyes of his left my nipples rock hard. Once or twice, our eyes had locked over the conference table. Every time, I’d been the one to look away. I wasn’t able to endure the intensity of his gaze. He both unsettled and thrilled me.
If I’d been able to get away with it, I would have gone into the restroom and taken care of my horniness. But how professional would that have been? I’d resisted the urge until I made it home. This week, I’d gotten through a few packs of AA batteries. For Christmas, I would have to gift myself with a new, more powerful vibrator.
I turned the corner to my mom’s street, blinked, and rubbed my eyes against the dazzling displays. The entire block looked like Santa’s elves had overindulged in Christmas cheer and then thrown their guts up.
People spilled out of houses, and festive music from Mr. Savino’s filled the air. I sighed happily. I loved every cheesy second.
When I stepped inside my mom’s house, the scent of cinnamon candles curled around me, and the stress of the week instantly evaporated.
“I’m home,” I called out.
My mom bustled out of the kitchen wearing a vivid green sweater covered in tinsel and she wrapped me in a vanilla-scented hug. “About time. You’re two hours late. Everyone’s been asking for you.”
“My boss is a slave driver.”
In the kitchen, old neighbors and friends drank, chatted, and laughed. Cookies filled every available space. At the end of the night, everyone would take one cookie from each box to fill up a Tupperware container.
“You’ll never guess who’s here,” my mom said, handing me a glass of eggnog.
“Who?”
“Guess.”
“Ugh. Mom. Just tell me.”
“Not until you guess.”
“Fine.”
This was one of my mom’s favorite games. Whether it was how much something cost at the grocery store to something she found on the street, I had to guess the cost or what she’d found until she finally gave in and told me.
