I let out a sigh of relief and turned away. I needed to get home ASAP since the alcohol was making me see things.
I pulled out my phone and sent Mila a quick “I’ll make this up to you” text and then I hailed an approaching cab.
As the car stopped, a woman opened the back door and stepped out. She fumbled her cup and tripped over the sidewalk, wasting her coffee all over my coat.
“Oh my god!” She looked as if she was bracing for me to yell. “I am so sorry, Miss!”
“It’s actually quite fine,” I said, sliding into the backseat. It was only fair that a day that started as a hot-ass mess ended as a hot-ass mess.
THREE
Courtney: Present Day
Four days later...
THE BEST PART ABOUT living on the top floor of a new condo was having access to the executive lounge and hallways all to myself. Unlike the other residents who were forced to share their floors with whoever they were unlucky enough to live next to, I could wander through the hallways and to the lounge in a robe and panties without a single care in the world.
For the past four days, I’d done exactly that. In between ordering Chinese every four hours and making “Are you hiring associate lawyers?” calls to every New York City firm, I blasted my music and danced in the open hallways. I sang along terribly to old boy band songs as I watched the tourists brave the ice and snow on the streets below.
But this morning, as much as I wanted to start my day with a loud “Fuck You” song, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. My reality was sinking in, and my heart hurt too much at the thought of losing my dream job.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stumbled out of bed and slipped into the shower. I let the scalding hot streams fall over me until my skin turned pink, and then I stepped out and tried to find the perfect “Getting Fired” outfit. Anything too bright and colorful and I would come off too weak and bubbly about the occasion. Anything too dark and I would come off too serious.
I settled on a light blue dress, black stockings, with my grey pea coat and nude colored heels.
I flat-ironed my hair and styled it into a sleek side ponytail. Then I followed Mila’s “natural face” make-up tips by heart.
My phone buzzed on the counter as I made a quick cup of coffee. My boss’s secretary.
SUBJECT: OFFICE KEYS.
Miss Ryan,
Mr. Walton wants you to bring both sets of your office keys—the originals and the spares, into your meeting with him today. Okay?
Thank you,
Michelle
I DIDN’T BOTHER RESPONDING. I grabbed the spare set of keys from my kitchen drawer, picked up my briefcase, and took the elevator downstairs.
Not wanting to wait in the cold for a cab, I rode the subway to the firm. I made a mental note to stop by three firms on the way back and drop off my resume.
When I finally arrived at Walton & Associates, I took a few minutes to stare at the place I’d had bookmarked in my dream journal since my freshman year of college. A white marble building, it featured two sculptures of legal scales at the top of its steps, and right inside its front doors was an incomparable, elegant courtroom we used for mock trials.
Walking inside, I avoided the looks from my colleagues and didn’t bother going to my office to wait out the remaining half-hour before my firing. There was no point in boxing up anything since Mr. Walton always had his team hand deliver everything except the furniture to the employee’s house by the middle of the afternoon.
“Good morning, Miss Ryan!” His secretary called to me as I walked to his side of the firm. “You’re early for your meeting. Anxious?”
“Not really.”
She held up her hand. “He’s finishing up with someone, so you can wait over there in the parlor area.”
I started to step away, but the double doors to his office opened and one of the top junior lawyers stepped out. Loosening his tie, he set his keys on the secretary’s desk and sighed.
“It was nice getting to know you, Michelle,” he said. “I wish you all the best.” Then he looked at me. “Best of luck to you as well, Courtney.”
“He fired you?” I whispered.
He didn’t get a chance to answer. Michelle stood up and motioned for me to move.
“No need to wait anymore, Miss Ryan,” she said. “You can go inside now.”
I hesitated a few seconds before entering his office, and Mr. Walton immediately looked up from his desk.
“Good morning, Miss Ryan,” he said, his face stoic. “Have a seat, please.”
I obliged and held my briefcase in my lap.
“Do you have the keys to your office for me?”
“Yes.” I pulled them from my pocket, setting them on his desk.
“Thank you.” He stood from his chair and began pacing the room. “Do you have any idea why I hired you, Miss Ryan?”
“I was only late to court one time.”
“What?”
I cleared my throat. “Um, no, Mr. Walton. I have no idea why you hired me.”
“It’s because I thought that as a number one graduate from Harvard Law School and one of the most promising editors of the Harvard Law Review that you would fit in here,” he said. “And you did. At first.” He stopped walking and looked at me. “You’ve earned raved reviews from your peers and superiors, handled your first few cases with ease, and I’ve noticed that you’re often the last one to leave the building. You work harder than all of your peers, and I’m impressed with your work ethic.”
My fingers clutched the handle of my briefcase in anticipation of hearing him say, “But...”
“You see, you remind me of someone else I hired long ago, Miss Ryan,” he said. “Someone I failed greatly. I accepted good, when I should’ve pushed for better, and I allowed her to become a great lawyer when she could’ve become a phenomenal lawyer. So, unfortunately, I have to—”
“I’m not going to let you fire me, Mr. Walton.” The words rushed out of my mouth before I could think them through, and within seconds I was standing to my feet. “You said it yourself. I’m always the last one to leave the building, and I work hard. Really, really hard. So, if you think for one second that I won’t file a complaint with HR over you letting me go because I was late one time—one goddamn time, in court, you are sadly mistaken. And if I have to, and this would totally hurt me because I admire you as a person, I will sue you. Sue. You.”
He blinked. “What the hell are you talking about, Miss Ryan?”
“I know what this is, Mr. Walton, so you don’t have to give me the rest of the speech. It’s a Friday, and you just fired that junior lawyer. I can see the writing on the wall.” I paused. “I just don’t understand why you always jump to firing people on a first offense. Whatever happened to written reprimands or warnings first?”
He blinked again, and his lips curved into a small smile. “Miss Ryan, contrary to whatever is going on in your mind right now, I am not firing you today. Far from it actually. Although I am quite amused that you think you’d be able to successfully sue me in an at-will state if I was, though.”
I felt my cheeks burning, and I wasn’t sure what to say.
“I’m promoting you to the junior-lawyer level of my firm, Miss Ryan,” he said. “That’s why I asked you to bring your keys.” He pulled a new set of keys from his pocket and placed them next to my old ones. “Your office will be on the other side of the building now, and you’ll have benefits that you didn’t have at the associate level.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.” He laughed and leaned against his desk. “I just hired a new senior lawyer who reminds me of my best student.” He pointed to a picture of Liam Henderson—the greatest young lawyer this city had ever known. “I see qualities of him in you as well, and I don’t want you wasting your talent on cases like the one you were working on Monday. You deserve better than that, and I want you to hone your skills as best you can since I see big things for your future.”
I was still
unsure of what to say next, unsure if I should apologize for threatening to sue my boss right in front of his face.
“I’ve taken the liberty of pairing you with this new senior lawyer,” he said, walking behind his desk. “You’re going to work with him on his first case and if all goes well—meaning, if he gives me a good report of your work, I’ll let you be the first chair on one of my Madison class lawsuits.”
“Really?” My jaw dropped.
“Really.” He picked up his desk phone. “Send him in, Michelle.”
“Thank you so much for this opportunity, Mr. Walton,” I said, my mind was now officially blown. “I apologize for threatening to sue you, and I promise that I will give you nothing but my best over the next few—” My sentence died on my lips the second the door opened, the second the sexy-ass man I thought I saw several nights ago actually stepped into the room.
“Miss Ryan, I would like you to meet Jace Kennedy,” Mr. Walton said. “Jace Kennedy, this is the promising associate lawyer I was telling you about, Courtney Ryan.”
Jace’s lips parted as he looked me up and down. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ryan.” He extended his hand, but I didn’t take it.
“Miss Ryan?” Mr. Walton stepped over to us. “Mr. Kennedy is trying to shake your hand.”
“My apologies.” I forced a smile and shook it. “I’m just so overwhelmed with everything, you know?”
“Oh, of course!” He looked at Jace. “Ten minutes ago she thought I was calling her in here to fire her.”
Now, I really wish you would’ve.
“Jace graduated from college two years early, and he graduated from the law program at Yale at the top of his class while working three jobs. How amazing is that? I never knew someone could handle all that pressure.”
“I never knew he could read...” I muttered under my breath, but then I cleared my throat. “You sound like you’ve had an amazing career, Mr. Kennedy. I look forward to working with you.”
He looked me up and down with his piercing blue eyes, but he didn’t utter a word.
“If you two will excuse me for a few minutes,” Mr. Walton said. “I need to get you a copy of the case files from my library.” He left the room without another word, and the two of us stood staring at each other.
Up close, Jace’s gaze was ten times sexier than I remembered from high school, and all these years had hardened his chiseled jawline and sculpted mouth.
“So, you're going to act like you don’t already know me?" he asked.
“I don't,” I stepped back, shrugging. “I have no idea who you are."
He smirked. “Would you like a reminder?”
“Mr. Kennedy, with all due respect, if you were a memorable person from my past, I wouldn’t need a reminder.”
“You don’t remember anything about the back of my pick-up truck?” His eyes were on mine, and images of our former nights spent rolling around in the back of his truck were suddenly flashing through my mind. His rough hands gripping my waist, his mouth claiming mine, his tongue whispering promises against my naïve lips.
“No.” I lied, my voice cracking. “I don’t remember that.”
“I think you do. I’d be more than happy to help you remember if you’d like,” he said, his voice low and his body close.
I jerked back before my body could give in, hating that he was having such an effect on me.
“Something wrong, Miss Ryan?” Mr. Walton returned to the room with a box. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“No.” I shook my head and gave him a fake smile. “I just realized that Jace and I went to high school together.”
“We did a lot of things together.” Jace’s voice was too low for Mr. Walton to hear.
“Oh! Well, look at that. What a small world!”
“Too small,” I muttered, looking away from him.
“Michelle’s going to bring us some coffee, so you two have a seat. I want to walk you through what’s on the line with this class-action case before I let it go.” He pulled out a chair for me. “Miss Ryan has promised to give you her best, Mr. Kennedy, so don’t accept anything less.”
“Trust me.” His eyes met mine. “I won’t.”
THREE AWKWARD-ASS HOURS later, Mr. Walton finally put me out of my misery and ended the meeting with Jace. Walking me down the junior wing of the firm, he opened the door to a small office in the corner.
“I figured you’d want to be closer to the library and our new café since you’re always here so late,” he said, placing the keys into my hand. “Do you have any last-minute questions for me?”
“Yes, actually.” I set my briefcase on the desk. “You mentioned that I’ll have different benefits at this level. What type?”
“Oh, of course.” He rubbed his chin. “Well, for starters, you’ll have town car access, so if you’d like to be driven to work instead of taking a cab or the subway, that’s now an option.”
I smiled.
“Your salary, of course, will be moved to the next tier—effective immediately, and you’ll have access to the junior-associate lounge that my firm owns in the basement of your building. Oh, and if you’d like, you can put in bids for any of the vacation timeshare properties we own.”
“Thank you, Mr. Walton.”
“You earned it.” He wished me luck and walked away.
I ran my fingers against the smooth mahogany of my brand-new desk and relaxed in the leather chair.
I started to lean back when Jace walked into the hallway, when he stopped at the door right across from mine and unlocked the door.
You’ve got to be kidding me...
He looked over his shoulder at me and smiled. “Do you prefer to get reacquainted on my desk or yours?”
I stared at him, taking in that familiar blue-eyed gaze that once left me breathless. Then I stood to my feet and walked to the door, slamming it right in his face.
We didn’t have to work on phase one of our case until next week, and until then, I was spending my nights at Mila’s place. I needed a few days to vent and drink. I also needed some time to convince myself that I could handle seeing Jace all these years later, as long as we only had to see each other at the firm.
I can definitely handle seeing him as long as it’s just at work...
E.N.E.M.Y.
E is for ENEMY
(It also stands for enormous ego, which is something Jace Kennedy has always had. Okay, wait. I’m getting ahead of myself...)
Courtney: Back Then
“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA how much goddamn trouble you’re in? Do you, boy?”
I hear my principal, Mr. Thompson, railing against someone through his closed door and I can only hope that he’ll go easier on me. I’ve never been summoned here before, so I’m not sure what to expect. Then again, last night was the first time I’ve been arrested, and instead of the cops hauling me off to jail, they dropped me off at my parents’ house.
The look on my mom’s face when she opened the door is still kind of fuzzy, but I’m pretty sure she thought they were dropping off some foreign object. My dad’s first words, however—“What the fuck were you thinking?” are far clearer.
Breathe, Courtney. Breathe.
“I’m disappointed in you, son,” Mr. Thompson says. “Utterly disappointed.”
The door to the office suddenly swings open and a senior guy I’ve seen around a few times before walks out. Hands-down the most attractive guy at Blue Harbor High, his name is Jace Kennedy. Always dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that clings to his muscles, he drives a black pick-up truck that he parks across two spots in the student lot. It pains me to admit it, but he’s capable of leaving most girls speechless with a single glance in their direction or a smile. He also has the most stunning blue eyes I’ve ever seen. His irises are a deep-sea blue with specks of stormy grey.
Running his hands through his dark brown hair, he steps in front of me. Then he raises his eyebrow and smirks. “See something you like?”
“
Never.” I roll my eyes and start to turn away from him, but I can’t help but notice that he stares at me for a while before leaving the office.
“Miss Ryan?” The principal calls my name. “You can come in now.”
I take a deep breath and stand to my feet. I make my way to his office and look around before taking a seat.
It doesn’t look as prison-esque as I was expecting. The walls are bright blue, and white bookshelves align the walls. There’s also a huge smiley face poster tacked to the window behind the desk. It reads: “Sometimes a smile makes everything okay!”
I tuck that advice into the back of my mind just in case he starts to yell at me, and then I sit down in front of Mr. Thompson’s desk.
“Well, well, well,” Mr. Thompson says finally, running his hands through his salt and pepper colored hair. “Christina Courtney Ryan.”
“It’s Courtney Christina Ryan, sir,” I say. “My mom never got my official birth certificate changed, but all my friends here know it’s Courtney Christina. Besides, the other way sounds really weird if you think about it, but now that you’ve said it that way—”
“Stop talking.” He cuts me off. “Now.”
I lean back and feel my heart racing against my chest.
“Now, before we get to why you’re here, I’ll have you know that I asked around about you, Miss Ryan. All of your teachers and even your debate team coach had nothing but kind things to say about you. Half of them couldn’t even believe that you would ever get into any trouble.”
I look down at my hands. I’m still having a hard time processing this myself.
“Nonetheless,” he says, his voice is still firm. “Rules are rules. I’m going to ask you some questions, Miss Ryan. Your degree of honesty will determine the degree of punishment. Understood?”
My Enemy Next Door Page 3
