by Shen, L. J.
But now that I knew who she was, how could I admit all that? Even talking to her right now was a huge conflict of interest.
“I guess we both got caught up in a big misunderstanding,” I finally said.
Her eyes glistened. “So, you did try to call me?”
“Yes…” I nodded. “I did.”
Margo blinked several times and stared off before looking back up at me. If this situation were different, the realization of this misunderstanding would have been a good thing. But now? Where do we even go from here? We’re already at a dead end.
My eyes wandered down to the exposed skin of her plunging neckline, the trail of cleavage that led to the taut, exposed skin below it. I suddenly felt like I had to adjust myself through my yellow spandex. Yeah, this was not a good moment to get excited, not only because my dick was basically in a sock, but because Margo Adams was officially the last woman on Earth I was allowed to feel this way about.
“Look, I don’t have anything against you, Margaret. I’m just doing my job in representing Rex.”
She blew out a breath. “I understand that. And I’m sure Rex is feeding you lies. He’s a liar, Chet.” Her voice shook. “He cheated on me. I never did anything to deserve it. All I want is a clean break from that mistake of a marriage, and he’s making it so hard for me to just live my life. I won’t settle for anything less than a good man whom I can trust.”
“You shouldn’t have to, Margo,” I said without hesitation.
Rex needed his head examined for ever cheating on this woman.
And why had I started calling her Margo again? Margo was the woman I’d kissed in the café. The woman in front of me is Margaret. My client’s wife—who’s completely off-limits. That’s what I was supposed to believe. But as I continued to look down at her, all I could see was a sweet, beautiful, honest person standing in front of me. And all I wanted to do was something I knew I never could—kiss her again.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” she asked.
“Is it about the case? Honestly, there are rules about talking to a client who is represented. I shouldn’t be discussing anything without your attorney present.”
She shook her head. “It’s not about the case, no. Just a general question.”
Technically I just couldn’t discuss her case, but really I shouldn’t be having a conversation with her at all. My client would blow a gasket if he knew I was making small talk with his ex-wife. No less wanting to lean in and take a giant whiff of her hair.
Shit. Where had that come from? I seriously had the strongest urge to smell her goddamn hair. I needed to end this conversation once and for all. And that’s exactly what I’d planned on doing, except the words that came out of my mouth were:
“Sure. What’s your question?”
“How do you represent assholes?”
I stifled a laugh. It was about her case, considering Rex seemed like a giant one. Nevertheless, I cleared my throat and gave her the textbook answer. “The United State Constitution affords each and every citizen the right to due process—which means having competent legal counsel. If all attorneys only defended the innocent, or the non-assholes as you say, our legal system would collapse.”
Margo studied me for a moment. She rubbed her chin. “So, you represent assholes because our founding fathers created a system of checks and balances, then?”
I gave a curt nod. “Exactly.”
“You want to know what I think?”
Uh. From her tone I wasn’t sure I wanted to… Yet, once again, I found myself speaking out of turn.
“Sure.”
She stepped closer to me and pushed up on her tippy toes so we were almost nose-to-nose. “I think you’re full of shit.”
We stared off at each other for a solid thirty seconds, then I couldn’t help myself. Unable to keep it in any longer, I cracked. A smile broke out on my face. Then one spread across hers. Next thing I knew, we were both hysterically laughing. Margo held onto her stomach and, at one point, she snorted, which threw us into another round of hysterics.
She wiped tears from her eyes. “Seriously…how do you do it? And don’t give me some bullshit answer this time.”
I shrugged. “Haven’t you ever had a client you didn’t care for?”
“Sure. But that’s different. I’m only throwing an asshole’s parties or planning some elaborate proposal to make them look good. Not beating up my client’s adversary who doesn’t deserve it.”
She had a point. And the truth of the matter was, I was tired of taking on clients with no morals. It was one of the reasons I’d been kicking around leaving my firm and going out on my own. Sometimes you meet with a prospective client and you agree to take on a case, thinking you’re representing the kid getting bullied. But after you listen to the other side of the story, you wonder if your client might actually be the bully. Those situations, you can’t help. But that wasn’t what had happened when I met with Rex. My gut had told me he wasn’t the victim in the first thirty seconds of sitting down with him. Though it didn’t matter, because I was trained to see all clients the same way at my firm—as billable hours.
I sighed. “It’s not always the easiest job.”
Margo tilted her head and studied me. “Such a shame,” she said with a sigh.
“What? That I’m a lawyer?”
“Nope. That you’re Rex’s lawyer.”
“Why is that?”
She looked down at her watch and back up to me biting her bottom lip. “Because I’m almost done for the night. And you’re standing right under one of the mistletoe I hung this morning.”
I looked up. Holy shit. I really was. There was nothing more I wanted to do at this moment than take Margo in my arms and kiss the shit out of her. That first kiss had stuck with me for days. But…I couldn’t. I was just about to begrudgingly tell her that, when she suddenly turned and started to walk away.
What the…
Margo looked back over her shoulder and flashed the wickedest grin. “Bye-Bye, Mr. Lawyerman. Feel free to watch me walk away now. Unless, of course, that’s against the rules, too.”
I watched as Margo Adams strutted across the room. Her red dress hugged the curve of her amazing ass as it sashayed from side to side. Honestly, it probably was unethical to drool while checking out your client’s adversary, but at this point—I was lucky that was all I allowed myself.
Putting my hands on Margo Adams would totally be a breach of ethics.
Yet in the pit of my stomach, I somehow knew she’d totally be worth it.
4
Chet
I decided to play a little chicken.
Remember that game? Two drivers careening down the road on the path for a head-on collision. One had to jump out of the way to avoid being run over, which one was generally decided by who had the biggest balls.
“Mr. Saint?” My assistant Lydia buzzed into my office. “Your three o’clock appointment is here.”
“Great. Give me five minutes and then show him in.”
I cleared the scattered papers of another client’s file from my desk and pulled a manila folder from my drawer—my own personal bank statements. Today, I’d definitely have the biggest balls in the room. Though sometimes, on rare occasions, neither party swerved, and a collision just became unavoidable. I thumbed through the folder and turned a few of the top pages over so that the name on the account wasn’t visible.
Lydia knocked and opened my door right on time. I stood and buttoned my jacket before coming around my desk.
Rex Adams strolled into my office like he owned the place.
Was he always such an arrogant fuck?
I flashed a practiced, very insincere smile and offered my hand. “Rex. Good to see you. I’m glad you could make it today.”
He grumbled. “Three o’clock on a damn Friday. Traffic is terrible.”
“Sorry. That’s all I had available.” Well, except for this morning at ten, and yesterday at eleven, twelve, or one o’clock,
and the day before at, well, practically anytime. It was almost Christmas; it wasn’t like clients were beating down the door to meet with their divorce attorney. But, I guess I must’ve forgotten to mention those other available times when I’d called Rex and told him we had to get together before our court appearance next week. Ooops. My bad. Sue me.
“Please, have a seat.” I motioned to the guest chairs and then lifted a leg to sit on the corner of my desk casually. Position meant a lot during a negotiation. It wasn’t a coincidence that I was looking down my nose at Mr. Adams this afternoon. After straightening my tie, I picked up the file with my bank statements from my desk and held it in my hand.
“While we were running a search of possible undisclosed accounts in your wife’s name, our team came across another account. This information just recently came to me.” I held one side of the folder tight and fanned it so he couldn’t read the contents, but could see enough to know that bank statements were inside.
“My wife had another account? I knew that bitch was hiding something.”
My jaw flexed. “No, this was an account in your name.”
“What account?”
“Well, I suppose it’s the one you hadn’t told me about.” I crossed my arms and readied myself for what might be the biggest bluff of my career. One that could backfire right in my damn face. “It looks like it was funded from withdrawals transferred from a mutual fund of some sort.”
Rex didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised. “Oh. That. The Banco Popular account. That’s not in my name. It’s in Maribel’s name. I’m just the beneficiary.”
My brows drew together. “I’m sorry. Who’s Maribel?”
“My girl.”
“Oh. I see. So this is a new account opened after you moved out of the marital home, then?”
“No. We opened it about two years ago. But like I said, it’s not in my name.”
What a piece of shit.
I tucked the folder behind me on the desk and folded my hands—mostly to keep from punching this asshole. “We failed to list it on your asset disclosure list that we prepared to file next week,” I said matter of factly.
“I’m a beneficiary of a foreign bank account. We don’t have to list it.”
I had to stifle my laugh. “That’s not how it works. We’re required to list all contingent assets, as well as current assets.”
He shifted in his seat. “Just pretend you didn’t see it, then.”
That’s exactly the request I’d been banking on this douche making. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Rex’s face turned pink from anger.
“Because that would be subordinating fraudulent conduct. It’s a violation of ethics.”
He jumped up out of his seat and leaned toward me. “But you’re a goddamned lawyer!”
I stood. And my six foot two stood a hell of a lot taller than his five foot eight, or whatever the hell he was. “Are you implying that lawyers are unethical?”
He backed up his aggression a bit. “Look. You can’t mention that account.”
I walked around my desk and sat in my chair. My job was done. Now it was just a matter of whether I fired him or he fired me. It didn’t matter to me one way or the other.
I leaned back into my chair feeling a hell of a lot more relaxed. Though Rex was now sitting on the edge of his looking anxious.
“My hands are tied here. Since I know about the account, I can’t submit your asset list to the judge and suborn fraud on the court.”
“That’s bullshit! Your job is to protect my interests.”
I held up my hands. “I’m sorry. Either you add the account to your schedule of assets before submitting it to the court, or I won’t be able to submit it for you.”
“Then, you’re fired.”
Bingo!
Merry freaking Christmas to me.
* * *
There was just one more small thing I needed to do before I left for the holidays. I’d already prepped a Motion to Withdraw as Rex Adam’s counsel and handed it off to my paralegal to get filed. After signing into my bank to make sure that my year-end bonus check had cleared, I decided that since giving myself gifts was so much fun, I was going to give myself one more. Taking a stroll down the senior partner hallway, I knocked on the door of the only one in this week—Milton Fleming. I wasn’t a fan of his. The few times I’d been invited to executive outings—usually because I had the best golf handicap in the firm—all he did was talk shit about the other associates and which paralegals he’d like to bend over the copy machine.
“Chester. Come on in. How’s the golf game going these days?”
Well, it’s December in New York, so the courses were pretty much frozen and covered in snow. But I’d play along anyway. “Great. Just great.”
“How can I help you?”
I walked to his desk and extended an envelope to him. He reached out and took it.
“I’m giving you my resignation. I’ve really enjoyed the last five years here at Fleming, O’Shea and Leads, but it’s time for me to move on.”
His big, bushy brows dipped inward and met in the middle. I never noticed before, but they looked like two fuzzy caterpillars trying to mate. “Is this a matter of money? Were you not happy with your year-end bonus?”
“No, the bonus was fine. Thank you. I appreciate it. I’m just ready to go out on my own.”
“Have you already informed your clients?” It was common practice for lawyers to tell their clients before their firm to try to sway them to leave with them when they left.
I shook my head. “Nope. They’re all yours.”
“This is rather sudden. I thought you were happy here.”
I almost laughed at that. How the hell would he know if I was happy? It’s not like he’d ever asked. “It’s nothing personal.” I pointed to the envelope. “I wrote I’d stay on through year end. But I’m flexible if you want me to stay on a little longer.”
Milton sighed. “Alright. I’ll let the other’s know. I’m sure they’ll be disappointed to hear the news.”
“Have a good holiday,” I said.
“Yeah, you, too.”
With all of my Christmas gifting done at work, I still had one more little plan I needed to set into motion. I locked up my office and headed for the front door while Googling Star Events.
5
Margo
“Are you up for a little dare?”
God, I was definitely not in the mood. Yet…I couldn’t break that stupid streak. I sighed. “Go easy on me. I’m going to have no gifts from Santa under the tree this year, and I’m still pouting over the loss of an elf.”
“So I take that as a yes, then?” Nancy raised a brow.
“Yeah. Of course. But be kind. We have to be in court in an hour, and I don’t want to be all flustered.” Nancy and I met at a coffee shop around the corner from the courthouse. People were walking in and out, and I couldn’t help but glance up every time the Christmas bells hanging on the entrance door jingled. My hopes deflated every time it wasn’t a certain lawyer. What the hell was wrong with me? Of all the men to become obsessive about, it had to be the one guy I should have zero interest in…and the one guy who wasn’t allowed to have any interest in me. I sipped my Peppermint hot chocolate and sighed. “So what’s my dare?”
“You see that Salvation Army stand outside?”
I turned to look out the window. “Yeah.”
“I just watched Santa leave in a dented Lexus parked in a handicapped spot, even though he seemed perfectly fine to me. Go take that annoying bell off the door and stand outside and sing ‘Jingle Bells’ until you get someone to stick money in the donation box.”
While embarrassing since I couldn’t sing for shit, it could have been way worse of a dare with Nancy. I dug my gloves out of my pocket and put them on, then shrugged on my coat before she changed her mind. I wagged a finger at her. “No videoing me.”
She raised her hands like she was Little Miss In
nocent. “Who me? Never.”
I rolled my eyes, but headed for the door. Looking back over my shoulder, no one seemed to be paying attention, so I slipped the bells off the doorknob before going outside and getting into position next to the Salvation Army stand.
“Jingle Bells. Jingle Bells. Jingle All the Way.”
Shit. What the hell were the rest of the words? Eh. Who cares. I turned around to make sure my friend saw me and started to sing the only verse I apparently knew a second time while waving to her.
“Jingle Bells. Jingle Bells. Jingle All the Way.”
Nancy lifted her hands, palms up and motioned up and down, indicating that I should sing louder. So I did while smiling like an idiot at her.
“Jingle Bells!”
“Jingle Bells!”
“Jingle All the Way!”
Nancy gave me a thumbs up, and I continued my screaming rendition of the eight-word chorus of “Jingle Bells” as I turned around…only to find a man standing right in front of me.
And not just any man.
Chet.
“Jingle Be—“ I froze.
He arched a brow. “Second job?”
“It’s a dare. Can you just shove a dollar in the pot so I can stop?”
Chet dug his wallet out of the front pocket of his slacks and slipped a ten-dollar bill from the fold. He waved it in front of me. “So all I need to do is drop this in the bucket, and you can stop singing?”
“Yes.”
He grinned from ear to ear, then tucked the cash back in his pocket and folded his arms. Taking a few steps back, he leaned against a column. “Keep singing.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you joking? You’re really not going to help me?”
“Not until after I enjoy a little of the show.”
I squinted at him.
The jerk squinted back with a smirk.
A nice looking elderly couple started to walk toward the coffee shop door. So I stuck my tongue out at Chet and started to sing in their direction.
