by Chloe Cox
And now he could apparently add Cate Kennedy to the list, who’d known him for about five minutes, and who was supposed to defend him against charges of being the other kind of asshole.
“Me knowing about you isn’t going to be a problem,” he said. It wasn’t a question. He just wanted her to know it, and to know that he knew it.
Damn, he was playing with fire.
He saw her swallow.
“I guess not,” she said. “Maybe it will help you open up, if you know something about me that no one else knows. Because your lawyer needs to know everything, Soren. I mean everything. Can you do that?”
Soren felt himself smile, even though the more time he spent with this woman, the less certain he was that he could remain professional. “Ford didn’t tell you?”
“What?”
“I have no shame. Hope you’re prepared.”
“You’ve only seen me at my worst,” she said, hopping down off the bar stool in what he now saw were some incredible high heels. She rocked that power suit. Just lethally feminine, even in a suit. “You don’t think I got to be where I am by being a total pushover, do you?”
Something in her voice had changed.
Something was…
Different.
She stood a little taller. Chin up, shoulders back, eyes flashing. Yet still he could see glimpses of the woman who’d clung to him outside, who’d instinctively run and then decided to brave through anyway, who’d talked to him about abuse and BDSM, who so clearly had a past she wanted to hide. He wanted to know more about that woman, too, not just the one who was about to kick legal ass.
Damn. She really was all kinds of trouble. The truth was that he hadn’t felt anything like this since…
Well, since Julia.
That was dangerous thinking right there. And besides, it was different. He knew that, watching her lead him up to the lounge, taking those long strides, letting her heels strike the floor hard in that warlike rhythm. Yeah, she was the most interesting woman he’d met in a long time. Maybe it felt different because he was older now and he could appreciate it.
That instant connection.
That instant want.
He knew if he touched her again they’d both lose it. Weird way to think about your lawyer, but Ford had insisted there was no one better. Come to think of it, Soren had been expecting someone much older. Everything he knew about big-time lawyers came from his stepfather: old, male, usually drunk, always douchebags. How good did she have to be to rise to the level of partner at her age in an old boys’ club?
If only she wasn’t a newbie. Goddamn. If he thought he could have her without her getting attached…
And the worst part was he knew he could help her through that fear. He knew it too damn well.
“Soren?”
He looked up. Ford was watching him. Cate was watching him. They’d been sitting in Ford’s office for at least five minutes. Soren had no idea what they’d been talking about. He’d been looking at the curve of her thigh as she crossed one leg over the other.
“What?” Soren said, irritated.
“I asked if you wanted to give Cate a rundown of the situation.”
“The situation is bullshit,” Soren said.
Ford glared at him. “No, it’s a problem. Cate, you’re aware of the book Savage Hearts?”
“The tell-all about the band? I haven’t read it yet, but I gather it’s a source of controversy,” she said dryly.
“It’s not Molly’s fault,” Soren said. This still pissed him off. Molly Ward was the woman who’d been picked to write the stupid thing, which was how she’d come into Declan’s life in the first place, and she’d only done her job. The reason Soren came off as a womanizing piece of crap was because he’d behaved like a womanizing piece of crap during the events of the book—his behavior had resulted in one woman’s overdose, his best friend Declan’s freak out, and, because Declan was the lead singer of Savage Heart, the temporary break-up of the band.
It wasn’t Molly’s fault that Soren refused to sit for any interviews or allow her to use any of the stuff she’d found out about Soren’s life. Declan and Molly had begged him, but Soren hadn’t seen the point of hurting more people just to make himself look like a little bit less of a jerk. Having the band back together and having Declan back in his life was good enough. Double bonus points that Declan had found Molly in the process.
“Who’s Molly?” Cate asked.
“She’s family. She wrote the truth, that’s all.”
“Yeah, well, the truth has inspired some past conquests to come out of the woodwork,” Ford said. “He was served already. Outside of Volare. Sexual harassment.”
Cate looked at them both. “That’s it?”
“You ever been sued for being a bad person?” Soren asked. “That’s enough, trust me.”
Cate smiled. “No offense, but this would be punching below my weight. You don’t need me for this.”
“They’ve retained Josephs & Cheedham,” Ford said.
Cate sighed. “I see.”
Given his family history, Soren was not a huge fan of lawyers. He especially didn’t like it when they seemed to be speaking another language. He especially didn’t like it when they were speaking in another language about him.
“Anyone going to clarify how, specifically, I’m screwed here?” he said.
“I know Mark Cheedham,” Cate said. “He only gets involved if he thinks there’s going to be a huge payday. I mean huge. I’d bet he has more than one woman willing to sue, and he’s sitting on something. This is just his opening gambit. He won’t win any ethics awards anytime soon, and he loves to play the press. I’m usually competing for cases with him, so this is…”
Cate trailed off, her voice falling. For a moment she looked very far away, very small, the way she had outside when she’d been hiding from that douchebag Patrick Cross. Soren’s Dom sense went nuts.
He could actually see the moment when Cate figured something out.
Dammit, he wanted to know what it was.
“This is surprising,” she finally said. She recrossed her legs, which was distracting enough that Soren almost missed the little furrow in her brow.
Almost.
“So?” Soren asked.
“It means you do need me,” Cate said.
Soren couldn’t argue with that, although not in the way she meant. Every second spent in her presence was winding him tighter and tighter. He wasn’t like this. People didn’t get under his skin like this. Wanting a woman was one thing, but wanting to figure her out, to turn her inside out and right side up and know more…
“Soren, look at me,” she said.
That got his attention. Mimicking his tone from earlier, telling her to look at him. Deliberately provocative.
He let his gaze wander over her face until he caught her eyes. Whatever this was, it was important.
“Did you do it?”
“No.”
“You’re sure? You don’t even know what you’ll be accused of by the end.”
Soren leaned forward in his chair. “I have never harassed a woman in my life. I’m a Dom, for fuck’s sake, I get consent. Always.”
Cate didn’t bat an eyelash.
“What am I going to find out?” she said.
“You’re going to find out that I’ve fucked a lot of women,” he said, watching for her reaction carefully. “You’re going to find out that I’ve dominated a lot of women. And you’re going to find out that they all enjoyed it.”
Cate cracked a smile. “Probably I’ll rephrase that for the press. Any committed relationships I can point to? Even from the past? Someone who will come to your defense?”
Soren gritted his teeth.
“No.”
She raised an eyebrow. “None?”
“I don’t do relationships. I do honesty.”
Cate uncrossed and recrossed her legs again, taking Soren’s gaze with her. God damn.
“That’s a good line,�
� she said. “I might steal it.”
Maybe it was because of those legs that Soren took a second to process what she said. When he did, he could swear he actually heard the world crack in two. In one half, he’d misunderstood her, and nothing had changed. In the other half, Cate had just announced that she didn’t do romantic attachments. And in that version of the world, he’d have her.
“What?” he demanded.
She raised an eyebrow. “I said I like that. Honesty. I think I’d rather have honesty.”
“You’re saying you don’t do committed relationships or monogamy or whatever the hell people are calling it now?”
“Yes,” she said, amused. “‘Whatever people are calling it now.’”
“You don’t seem like the type,” he said.
That earned him a withering look. Fair enough. He just needed to be completely sure.
“Live and learn,” Cate said.
Soren stared at her. She was serious.
“Well,” Ford said, clearing his throat. “We should schedule a meeting for—”
“No,” Soren said. He kept his eyes locked on Cate. “She’s fired.”
Three
Cate froze. It was like when she used to go running in the winter back when she lived on the East Coast, and she’d take off her sweatshirt and feel both hot and freezing at the same time; her rampant insecurities were running headlong into her badass professional persona, and it was confusing as hell. Public Cate and Private Cate did not mix at all.
Had Soren Andersson really just fired her?
Normally, there wouldn’t be a conflict in a ridiculous situation like this. Normally, her professional persona would take over and she’d just wipe the rhetorical floor with him. But this was the man she’d just revealed herself to. This was the gorgeous stranger who actually knew something about her.
It felt like the bitterest rejection, and that in turn felt pathetic. It was infuriating.
“Excuse me?” she said.
“Soren, what the hell is wrong with you?” Ford exploded. “Cate is one of the best litigators in the entire country. They see her on the other side of the table and you will actually have a chance. We are unbelievably lucky that she’s even in this room right now, and you—”
“Not her,” Soren said again. He was still staring at her. “Not you, Cate.”
“I hadn’t yet agreed to represent you,” she said. She sounded almost detached, which as weird, because she was feeling anything but. “You can’t fire me. And you are unbelievably stupid in addition to being unbelievably lucky.”
In a professional sense, it was true. Intellectually, Cate knew she was a star, and had been ever since her first big judgment against one of the corrupt energy companies, right after she passed the bar. It was a case no one else would take on, and she’d won it all on her own against impossible odds, working late nights pro bono, living on ramen and her youthful ability to pull all-nighters. Frankly, it was a Hail Mary miracle shot in a million, but she’d done it. After that she’d had her pick of job offers, eventually accepting a partnership at a firm that would let her grow her own boutique business. She didn’t need this particular case. It would get her more press just because of Soren’s fame, but she could do without it. In a strictly professional sense, this was a walk.
In a personal sense, it hurt way too much to be healthy.
Not to mention there was the involvement of Mark Cheedham, and the fact that she’d seen Patrick Cross lurking around Club Volare. Both men were connected to her ex-husband. Patrick she’d believed to be just a coincidence, and it had spooked her. But Mark? Jason had been angling for a job with Mark Cheedham ever since Jason had been culled as an associate from one of the big firms over a year ago, and Patrick owed Jason one too many favors.
Patrick Cross’s presence at Volare didn’t look like a coincidence anymore.
That should have frightened her even more. And it did; there was definitely a core of fear. But Cate was getting angrier and angrier every time Jason did something to scare her, and she was just tired of it. The legal arena was the one place where she didn’t feel like Jason had the upper hand.
Which meant that now she actually wanted this case. So of course Soren was “firing” her.
Cate stared at the Norse god of dumbass moves, and clenched her hands into tiny fists.
“Not the first time I’ve been called stupid,” Soren said, smiling.
He was smiling.
She wanted to slap him. Her internal doubts, that little voice that told her she was a fraud every time she succeeded? That sooner or later everyone would find out who she really was, and then it would all come crashing down? It was going insane. It echoed every abusive thing Jason had ever said to her, it echoed every bullshit thing her parents had ever said, it echoed every jerk who’d ever doubted her along the way. Soren had just touched one big, raw nerve, the one directly connected to every fear Cate had about herself.
“Ford, could we have the room please?” she said.
“Of course,” Ford said. He stood up, and glared at Soren. “Do not screw up. Do not give me a reason to come back here and kick your ass.”
Soren held Ford’s gaze but said nothing, almost like he didn’t have to. In the back of her mind, the remaining part of it that wasn’t freaking out, Cate wondered how a place full of dominants managed to function on a daily basis. This could be on Animal Planet. She would totally watch this show.
“I’ll be right outside,” Ford said.
It felt like an age before she heard the door close behind him. Soren’s eyes held her the entire time, his focus so intense it made her more conscious of her own body. Her own breathing. The way she moved.
It was incredibly disarming. She had to fight against it.
God, it was difficult.
“What exactly is your issue with my legal representation?” she said.
Soren didn’t move, and yet somehow the man actually seemed to be…pulsing. He was reclined in that chair, his powerful, corded arms draped across the armrests, that white shirt pulled tight over his pecs, his legs spread. It was wordlessly arrogant. Like he owned it. Like he owned everything.
Finally, he spoke. “There are rules against sleeping with your clients, aren’t there?”
Cate hissed.
It almost covered up the thrill that raced down her spine, across her belly, over her breasts. Almost.
His presumption was outrageous. Yes, obviously, she was attracted to him. He was probably used to that. But attraction wasn’t inevitable. She was an adult woman with agency of her own, and she’d decide whom to sleep with and when; she was not an inevitability, goddammit. She’d spent way too many tortured hours telling herself that after she’d left Jason.
So it was equally outrageous that she found herself actually considering his question. Of course there were ethical rules about screwing your clients, but they were the kind of thing no one actually cared about as long as it was between consenting adults. The only people who got called in front of the bar for things like that were scumbags who accepted payment in blowjob form.
Wait, why was she even thinking about this?
“Wow, you are an asshole, aren’t you?” she said.
She’d really been aiming for pure outrage, or maybe some righteous anger. Instead she found herself trying to hide the ghost of a smile. Just so sure of himself, so sure that she would, what, fall into bed with him? Like all those other women? The balls on this man.
So she bit her lip instead.
Did she hear an actual growl?
“I don’t want you as my lawyer,” Soren said, leaning forward suddenly, his voice raw. “I want you. Just you.”
Cate stopped breathing. She stopped thinking. She stopped functioning.
Holy shit.
And then: Get a freaking grip.
It was getting seriously difficult to stay professional. That little declaration had hit her like a jolt from above, headed straight for her core. She hadn’t really allow
ed herself to think about what Soren might want, or that he’d want her in particular. The man was so overtly sexual that it wasn’t a huge surprise to consider that he’d been with many women, or that he might want many women. But there was something about the way he’d said that: You. Just you.
It felt…personal.
She had to fight to keep her expression neutral. Somehow it seemed absolutely vital that she not show this man any more weakness than she already had.
“Maybe so,” she said, trying to hide how good that had made her feel, “but you need me as your lawyer, Soren. I don’t think you’re aware of the situation.”
He said, “You need to be my sub more than I need anything. I promise you that.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Well, it had happened. Cate Kennedy had been left speechless.
It was like this thing that had been swirling around her head since she’d first met Soren, this thing that she’d been doing her best to ignore, suddenly crystallized. Like Soren’s words had just pulled it out of the air, made it visible, made it real.
Do I need this?
For the love of God, she’d only just met the man, and somehow the idea didn’t seem totally insane. Which was in itself completely and utterly crazy. And yet she didn’t recoil from it, the way she thought she would—BDSM, submission, kink, whatever the hell all of this was, or could be, it was something that only existed for Cate in the most private parts of her mind. It wasn’t something that she ever expected to feel in the real world, with real people, because who in their right mind would trust someone that much?
Oh God, why didn’t it seem crazy?
“Cate,” Soren said, his voice calm. Smooth. So damn certain.
She cleared her throat. “You don’t know Mark Cheedham.”
“I’m not worried.”
“That’s the point,” she said, shifting in her seat. She’d begun to feel uncomfortably warm, and had to remind herself that Soren was in over his head, and that her ex-husband was probably somehow involved. “You’re not worried, and you should be.”
