by Anna Durand
I sit down at my desk in the cubicle zone and resolve to never think of Friday night again. My large, steaming latte from Starbucks calls to me, so I take a swig. Mm, yummy goodness.
A memory of the sexy Brit's face pops into my mind. Oh yeah, yummy goodness there.
Stop that, I command myself. You're a strong, capable woman who has a freaking job to do.
Yes, I do. My job sucks in every way imaginable, but I will do it anyway. Straightening in my chair, I take another sip of my latte and log on to my computer. Like the other paralegals and the interns, I have a crummy chair inside a crummy cubicle. My coworkers named all of us the plebs, a term taken from ancient Rome, which means we're the dirt Empress Raisa scrapes off her shoes. Other attorneys work here, but she has no partners. That would give somebody else a measure of control and a financial stake in the firm. Raisa Volkov does not share authority.
The most annoying part of all is that I still admire her. She built this firm from the ground up and made a name for herself, not only in New York, but around the country.
Yeah, I'm a pathetic fangirl.
"Elena!"
Oh great. Her Royal Highness is summoning me. I rotate my chair toward her office door and smile politely. "Good morning, Raisa. What can I do for you?"
"Why don't I have the Caldwell case file? Someone didn't put it on my desk this morning."
"Someone" hadn't gotten out the file because another someone hadn't said she needed it.
Raisa jabs a finger in the air in my general direction. "Go get it."
Naturally, the most obnoxious woman in New York looks like a supermodel. She has long legs and a slender body, with ebony hair that glistens beautifully and skin that glows even in lighting conditions that make me look sallow. According to the male interns, her dark eyes lend her an aura of mystery.
She storms up to me dressed in her Armani pantsuit, towering over me in a way that makes me feel like a munchkin, and taps one finger on my desk. "Why aren't you getting that file? Go. Now."
"Yes, Raisa. Right away."
I scurry off to the file room and retrieve the documents she wants. Everything is on the firm's servers, but lawyers seem to have a weird aversion to looking at files on their computers. They even take notes on pads of paper, instead of digital tablets. That leaves us paralegals and interns to brave the dusty, windowless file room to get whatever the attorneys need.
At least the maze of cubicles where we all work gets some sunlight, even if it's secondhand. The attorneys' offices rim the cubicle zone, and every office has large windows. The glass walls can be turned opaque by flipping a switch, but most of the time they're clear, giving the grunt workers a touch of natural light.
When I get back to my desk, I see Raisa's office door is shut. I swig my cold coffee, then approach her door. Just as I raise my hand to knock, the door swings inward.
"There you are," Raisa says, like she's been waiting hours for me to come back. It's been ten minutes. She snatches the file out of my hand. "Get in here. We need to talk."
A sour taste creeps into my mouth. She's about to fire me. On day three.
Cursed, for sure.
I dutifully walk into her office. When she shuts the door, I flinch. I feel like a peasant about to be guillotined, and the thump of the door was that giant blade lopping off someone else's head. Next up, me.
Raisa points at one of two chairs positioned in front of her desk. "Sit."
A man stands at the window, facing away from us. The sunshine burnishes his blond hair with streaks of molten gold.
I flump onto the chair.
Raisa settles onto her large executive chair behind the desk. "I've hired someone to replace Lucas Miller."
Though I've never met Lucas Miller, I've heard the office gossip about him. He handled corporate law before he quit suddenly a few days before I started my job here.
Raisa waves a hand negligently toward the man who still faces away from us. "Meet Lucas's replacement, Chance Dixon."
The man pivots on his heels to face me.
A tingle sweeps over my entire body, and I suddenly can't take in a whole breath. I stammer something resembling "hello," though what comes out of my mouth isn't actually a word.
The sexy Brit from the hotel stares at me, his face blank.
I stare right back at him, probably looking like a stupefied moron.
Raisa doesn't seem to notice our reactions to each other.
Damn, he looks even better than Friday night, dressed in a navy suit that brings out the color of his eyes and accentuates the panty-melting beauty of his body. It ought to be illegal to look so good.
His blank stare dissolves into a smile that curves his lips little by little, heating up with every millimeter his mouth moves. His gaze warms too, burning into me with the heat of the midday sun toasting my bare skin. One side of his mouth kinks upward more than the other in the sexiest lopsided smile I've ever seen.
My lips curl up at the corners, while my body rouses the way it had Friday night, readying for whatever this man wants to do to me.
We're in the office. With my boss. And I am getting more and more turned on just looking at Chance Dixon.
Still oblivious, Raisa motions for Chance to sit in the chair beside me.
I try not to stare anymore, but honestly, I only have so much willpower. When he passes by me, his ass is an arm's length from my face. I've never seen him naked, but I've had my leg strapped around him and felt those taut, powerful glutes.
He settles that perfect bottom onto the chair beside me, propping one ankle on the other knee.
Raisa smiles at him with all the flirtatiousness of a teenager, even batting her eyelashes. "I'm so pleased you've finally come home to our firm, where you belong." She aims her businesswoman smile at me. "Chance is my husband."
"Ex-husband," he corrects.
The lovely blush of desire that warmed my entire body snuffs out. Her ex-husband? She'd called him husband, no ex. Coupled with the way she batted her lashes at him, that implies she doesn't think of him as her former spouse, but as hers, period.
Fantastic. I had a quickie in an elevator with the ex-husband of my bitchy boss who hates me, and she wants him back. Does he want her back too? If he volunteered to work here, he must want to be close to her. Why did he seduce me the other night? A divorce lawyer who's a cheater. Doesn't that just figure.
Nope, my luck has not changed one bit.
Back in the hotel, I'd hoped his name, Chance, might be a good omen or something. Wrong. The dice got tossed, and I hit snake eyes.
Raisa waves her hand in the way I've already figured out means she's dismissing me. "Elena, you will work exclusively with Chance until I say otherwise. Do whatever he says. Chance, think of her as your slave."
I glance sideways at him.
He smirks at me while he tells my boss, "Thank you, Raisa. I've always wanted a slave of my own."
The boss lady is focused on the papers on her desk, ignoring us. Once she dismisses you, all that's left to do is walk out the door. I'd learned this about Raisa Volkov after two full days as her slave.
Now she's handing me over to Chance. As his slave. My body loves the idea, but my brain keeps warning me to watch out.
Chance opens the door for me as we exit Raisa's office. He lays a hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the office that previously belonged to Lucas Miller. They must have changed the sign on the door early this morning, because it now says "Chance Dixon."
He holds the door open for me. "Slaves enter first."
I want to scowl at him, but I pull myself together and stay professional. "Thank you, Mr. Dixon."
"Call me Chance."
"Rather not. Sir." It's dumb, but I hope calling him mister and sir will put some kind of distance between us.
Yeah, I said it was dumb.
He shuts the door while I take a seat in front of his desk, then he sits down in the spiffy
executive chair. The office is spacious, though not as big as Raisa's. This is her firm, after all. Still, Chance's office features large windows that catch the morning sun at the perfect angle to make his gorgeous face look even more beautiful. The rays of golden sunshine kiss his skin, spilling down his face, onto his throat.
"I had no idea you worked here," he says. "But I'm glad to see you. After the way you ran off---"
"No running. I walked. And you never called me, so you're the one who has explaining to do."
"You gave me the wrong number. I had a lovely conversation with the owner of an Italian deli, but he didn't know any Elena." Chance rocks his chair slowly, keeping his focus on me. "I wondered if you gave me the wrong number on purpose."
"I wouldn't do that. Sorry I got it wrong, but I was kind of, um, confused." I fidget in my chair, which seems to be made of pins and needles. Or maybe that sensation is a figment of my freaking-out mind. "After hearing you argue with somebody on the phone, I started to think I'd made a big mistake."
"Do you still feel that way? Because I don't. I wanted more time with you."
His voice is soothing and stimulating at the same time, an odd combination that compels me to relax. "I don't regret it."
"I'm glad." He sinks back in his chair, shoulders slumped, and rubs his eyes. "It was Raisa on the phone that night."
And she's still into him. That much is obvious.
Does he want to reconcile with her?
Chance drops his hand, fixing me with an earnest look. "I shouldn't have shagged you in an elevator. But you were the most enchanting, sexiest woman I'd ever seen, and I had to have you. I've never done anything of the sort before."
I shrug. "What's done is done. I'm your employee now, which means it's strictly business between us from this moment on. Agreed?"
He studies me, those sapphire eyes sparking in the sunlight. "I don't want only business with you, Elena."
I love the way he says my name in that delicious British accent, with that husky timbre in his voice. Though my body wants me to crawl across the desk and curl up on his lap, I straighten, clear my throat, and say, "Strictly business. Please. I need this job, and my boss is clearly still in love with you."
"But I'm not in love with her." He strokes the smooth desktop with his long fingers, caressing it like he's making love to the polished wood. "I want you, Elena, not her. If it weren't completely inappropriate, I'd have you on this desk right now."
My body reaffirms its desire to do anything he wants, making me feel warm all over. No way will I have sex with him at work. Never going to happen. Never, never, never.
I gaze into his eyes, and his lips slide into a soft smile.
Not today, at least.
"Please have dinner with me," he says. "Let me make up for my behavior the other night."
Holy heaven, I want to say yes. Dinner with a sexy, gorgeous, charming British man? Double yes, count me in. But I have to say no.
"That would be inappropriate," I say. "You're my boss."
"I agree, but I can't resist a woman who knows at least twelve German numbers and who makes me so hard I could pound nails into a wall with my cock."
A laugh splutters out of me. "That's the silliest thing I've ever heard."
He grins. "At least I made you laugh."
It's not fair for him to be so cute and so swoon-worthy at the same time.
"Our relationship has to be professional," I tell him. "Nothing more."
He sighs. "All right, I'll give it a go. But I can't stop myself from wanting you, and I can't swear I won't at least try to kiss you."
"I'm sure you can restrain yourself if you really work at it."
"For you, I'll try anything." He leans back in his chair, but his fingers still stroke the desktop. "Raisa has it wrong. I am your slave, Miss Linwood."
Having no clue what to say to that, I excuse myself and head back to my desk in the cubicle zone.
And I keep thinking about him.
Chapter Three
Chance
I show extraordinary willpower by keeping my hands off Elena for a full three hours. But honestly, it's her fault when my resolve slips. I call her to ask for a file, and she says she'll bring it to me. A few seconds later, she sashays past the open door of my office on her way to the file room, hips swaying, head held high. A slight smile tugs at her mouth, but she doesn't glance my way. The sight of her tight arse and those breasts, covered but not really concealed by her clothes, does me in. I grab a paperweight off my desk and fist my hand around it. Loosen my fist. Tighten it. Loosen. Tighten.
But in my mind, I'm closing my hand around one of those perfect breasts.
Maybe I haven't seen her naked yet and don't actually know what her breasts look like, but I'm positive they are perfect. Elena Linwood has curves in all my favorite places and a mouth that I loved kissing.
How can I work with her and never touch her again?
I should resign immediately, then drag Elena into the nearest closet and shag her until she screams.
But I can't. First of all, it would be very wrong. After the way I behaved on Friday night, I want to prove to Elena I'm not an arse who cares only about his own pleasure. Second, I promised Raisa I'd help her with her little problem. If she thinks she can use this situation to seduce me into taking her back, she will be severely disappointed. I don't love her anymore. I respect her legal skills and determination, and I know deep down she's not a rotten bitch. Still, I don't approve of the way she's been treating her employees lately. Maybe I can convince her to stop taking her frustrations out on them. I'm the reason she's acting this way, so it's my responsibility to set things right.
How the bloody hell will I pull that off?
Maybe I should've accepted Garth Leonard's offer. I'd be in New Hampshire now, far away from Raisa.
And Elena.
No, I don't want to be anywhere else.
Elena sashays into my office and sets the file on my desk. "Here's the information you need, sir. Do you require anything else?"
Yes, I require her spread across my desk naked.
Shaking off the sinful idea, even though I love it, I wave toward the chairs on her side of the desk. "Sit, Elena, please. I'd like to talk to you."
She eyes the chairs, the most endearing crinkle forming between her brows, but then sits down---on the edge of the chair, like she plans on fleeing any second.
"This is awkward, I know," I tell her. "But pretending we haven't met before, haven't known each other intimately before, isn't the answer."
"What we did wasn't intimate. It was a quickie with a stranger."
"I like you, Elena. Is that a crime?"
She gets that sweet little crinkle again, making me want to kiss it away. "No offense, Mr. Dixon, but you don't know me. I don't know you either."
"Oh, I know a few relevant facts about you." I retrieve a folder from a drawer and lay it open on the desk. "I know you're twenty-seven, single, and you share an apartment with your brother. You grew up in a small town in Wisconsin and graduated from Northwestern, summa cum laude. You were accepted to Columbia Law School but backed out. Since you had already moved to New York by that point, you stayed and worked as a secretary in a law office until you received your paralegal certification."
She stares at me for several seconds, not blinking, her hands clamped over her knees. "How do you know all that?"
"Raisa is very thorough. Before she hires anyone, she has a complete background check done on them." I tap the open folder. "This is yours. Raisa gave it to me."
"That's... kind of creepy."
"It's business. Raisa is, admittedly, rather paranoid." I close the file. "But I want to know more about you, all the things that don't show up in a background check."
"Do I get to run a background check on you?"
"No need." I lean back in my chair. "Ask me anything you like."
"How about all the same facts you have
on me?"
"Of course." I keep my gaze on hers while I speak, entranced by the deep caramel color of her eyes. "I'm thirty-four, divorced, not seeing anyone at the moment." I smile and wink. "Unless you agree to have dinner with me."
She shakes her head, though a smile she's trying to prevent dimples her cheeks. "Continue with the facts, please."
"All right. I grew up in the English countryside, in a quaint little village. I attended Oxford but got my law degree from Yale. I live alone. Since this job is only temporary, I'm staying in the hotel across the street, the one where you and I met." I shrug one shoulder. "I didn't graduate with honors, like you, but I did well enough academically. I've been working for a medium-size firm in Chicago, but I've taken a sabbatical to lend a hand here."
"Until Raisa hires a permanent replacement for Lucas Miller." When I nod, she asks, "What exactly happened with him?"
I'm about to say I can't talk about that when I realize there's no good reason to be cagey. The animosity between Raisa and Lucas isn't a secret, though Elena might not have heard about it yet. She only started working here on Thursday, which I know because Raisa told me.
"Ten days ago, Lucas Miller resigned," I say. Miller had turned up at Raisa's apartment Saturday a week ago to deliver his resignation in person, resulting in an argument so loud that her neighbors called the police, but I shouldn't tell Elena that part. "Lucas never got on with Raisa, and her recent behavior pushed him over the edge. He quit without notice. That left Raisa in a desperate situation, since several of Lucas's clients have court dates coming up soon."
"That's why you're here."
"Yes. I'm the emergency reinforcements. I've done a fair bit of corporate law, so I was qualified to take over as lead counsel."
"I thought attorneys couldn't quit a case unless the client's doing something wrong."
"That's true," I say, and decide I ought to tell her the whole story after all. She'll be my right hand on these cases, and she'll probably find out anyway via the office grapevine. "Lucas Miller didn't just resign. He was arrested ten days ago, on a Saturday night, after he went to Raisa's apartment and started screaming at her. He also tried to hit her, but she slammed the door in his face before he could. Lucas had a severe mental breakdown and was taken to the hospital."
