by Zoe Lee
Chapter 11
Gavin
“This is fucking bullshit,” my boss groaned as I braced my hands on his shoulders and shoved him into the gleaming elevator, stepping in gracefully after him. “I hate lawyers.”
“Everyone hates lawyers,” I said cheerfully as I pressed the button for the twenty-second floor, where the offices of Santos & Zajac were in an honestly squat, ugly building near the Merchandise Mart. “Although I might have something brewing with one,” I had to admit, not only because it was true, but because my boss needed to be distracted.
His burly arms flexed as he crossed them not distracted at all. “I want Carina out of my life as soon as possible, Gavin. But I refuse to be a cheater. So shut up about hot sex.”
Before I had time to laugh at him because I hadn’t mentioned sex, so he clearly had it on the brain, the elevator came to a smooth stop on the sixteenth floor. A gaggle of harried-looking worker bees swarmed in, one pushing the button for the twentieth floor.
Five… four… three… two… and—
“Oh my god!” one of the worker bees shrieked, pointing.
The others jumped and turned to look, and then they shrieked too.
“Hey, y’all,” rock god Barley Finn drawled.
I bet myself they were going to start shrieking again, but instead, the elevator dinged and the doors opened. They all hung there for a couple seconds, agonizing over what to do. But they were worker bees, so they looked longingly at Barley one last time and then exited.
“It never gets old,” I laughed as we rose the last two floors to our destination.
When we stepped off, he ran his big hands through his hair, disheveling it in a way that appealed to anyone who might be interested in a wayward rock star in his late forties.
He pushed open the frosted glass door to Santos & Zajac’s suite as I told him, “You should have put on a button-down, at least, to come here. You look like a hungover slob.”
“You know I’m not hungover,” Barley griped, since I made no secret of the fact that I thought it was just adorable that one of the most famous, long-lasting rock bands in the world was made up of a bunch of men who had never partied too hard. He ushered me past him into the sterile, but tasteful lobby and added, “And no one’s called me a slob in my life.”
“That’s because they have, like, beer goggles on when they look at you, except instead of beer causing the problem, it’s money, fame, or your talent,” I pointed out, rolling my eyes.
That famous laugh rang out, the noise all but shaking the walls and drawing the receptionist’s eyes to him faster than a magnet yanking over a bunch of metal objects.
“If that were true, we wouldn’t be here to discuss a divorce,” he countered.
“You’re married?” an outraged voice hissed from my left.
I whipped around and almost slammed into Eliott, dressed to kill in dark gray trousers, black shirt, and matching dark gray vest, his hair viciously combed and gelled. His nostrils were flared and his full mouth was pinched in a flattened line, angling down.
“Oh shit,” Barley whispered, ducking behind me as if I were the tall, jacked one.
“This is Barley Finn,” I stated to Eliott, as if he were the dumbest person on earth.
“Yes, I gathered,” he retorted, as if I were the dumbest person on earth, back to the tone he’d used on me when we first met. “I know my client’s name and already know you, but don’t know him. Ergo, he’s Mr. Finn.”
I could feel Barley’s whole body shuddering with suppressed laughter behind me, no doubt realizing at the same time as me that Eliott had no idea who Barley was.
But before I could laugh, I had to be pissed that he could think I was the kind of person who would hide it if I were married. I really, really wanted to yell it, but we were both working and I knew we both valued our jobs, plus I didn’t know if he was out here. “Yeah, this is Mr. Finn, my boss, you ass. I can’t believe you think I’m married. I told you about…”
I clamped my mouth shut and shook my head.
From the way he took a step towards me, his face twitching in remorse, I knew he remembered what I’d said about my biological father having a wife while he dated my mom, without her knowledge. “This is a private matter, let’s discuss this after—”
“Mr. Finn!” someone exclaimed happily.
The fact that I didn’t startle easily at sudden loud noises was one of the reasons that I made an excellent personal assistant to a rock star, because people were always popping up out of nowhere and screaming his name. This time, though, it wasn’t a rabid fan, but a rabid lawyer powering across the lobby towards us, a short man with a happy, bearded face.
“Eliott, what are you doing standing around in the lobby?” he asked too heartily.
“Mr. Zajac, good to see you,” Barley boomed as the lawyer pumped his hand. “We were just getting around to introductions,” he added with a wink, and Eliott actually looked horrified by the wink, as if it were unthinkable to have a sense of humor at a law firm.
Mr. Zajac led us into the for-the-public part of the firm, with restrooms and several conference rooms. He took us into one with a lot of windows that showcased the river, but offered complete privacy. It featured a six-person table that was definitely overcompensating and a dry bar with a catered spread of fresh pastries and coffee.
“Sit, sit,” Mr. Zajac insisted. He stayed on his feet, which meant he and Barley were at eye level since he was so short, and I had to smother a giggle at the visual. “I wish we were seeing you again under better circumstances,” he went on, sucking up to Barley, a client who had his firm on retainer, “but the tough times are what we’re here for!”
Barley nodded with a serious look on his face. I called it his Act Like An Adult face.
Eliott had taken a seat opposite Barley in front of a cute tablet with a keyboard. Neon blue backlit the keys as he woke it up with a stroke of one finger across the screen.
While his boss continued to accrue billable hours with his suck-up small talk, I got some pastries for Barley and me. I took my time, since it put me perpendicular to Eliott and I could watch his grim, professional facade flicker with secondhand embarrassment for his boss now and then. And I could watch those fingers type lightly, remembering how they’d torn apart my braid and tugged and stroked through my hair while we made out in his car.
It helped me stay calm and be patient to have a talk with him about his reaction earlier. I was still hurt, but I was willing to give Eliott the chance to explain and apologize.
“… so I’ll leave you in Eliott’s capable hands,” Mr. Zajac finally wound down.
The door shut and I chomped down on a chocolate-filled croissant while carrying the plates around to Barley. I set his plate down and then flopped into the seat next to him.
“Whew,” I said once the three of us were alone. “Your boss is pompous, Eliott.”
Eliott didn’t rise to the bait, just looked at Barley as he lifted his hands gracefully from the keyboard and then laid them one on top of the other. It looked sophisticated, but I could see that the bottom thumb was almost white from how hard he was pressing it into the surface of the mahogany table. Probably to stop himself from reaching over to throttle me. I couldn’t help it though; he deserved it after his asinine assumption when we’d walked in.
“So, you’ll be handling my case?” Barley asked.
It sounded innocuous, but Barley was a playful man, nosy and much more observant than I would have expected someone like him to be. But the nine months I’d spent working for him had been full of surprises, no two days alike, and that was why he was the best boss ever.
“Yes, I’m Eliott Navarre, a junior partner here at the firm. I know that a lot of clients like to know that they’re in very good hands, so let me begin by telling you that I grad—”
“Did you really think Gavin’s my spouse?” Barley interrupted unrepentantly.
Eliott didn’t bat an eyelash at the interruption or have
a snappy comeback. He only replied calmly, “It sounded like it from what you were saying. And not very many people bring an employee to a meeting like this, since it’s such a… personal, sensitive issue.”
The contrast to how he lost his cool with me was enough to make a guy feel special. My lips parted enough for me to huff out an indulgent breath as I murmured, “Speculation.”
“And you don’t know who I am?” Barley went on.
“You hurt his feelings,” I told Eliott, laughing when Barley squinted at me sideways.
“I’ve had plenty of high-profile clients, Mr. Finn,” Eliott assured Barley.
Barley’s chuckle rolled through the room like distant thunder, his natural magnetism making him seem like a giant. “You’re going to be pretty embarrassed when you Google me.”
Brows furrowing, Eliott looked back and forth between us. “Why don’t you save me the trouble? This first meeting is for me to get an overview of the situation, like the circumstances of your marriage and reasons for seeking divorce, and what you want.”
“Mm, no.” Barley planted his elbows on the table and leaned in, clearly waiting for Eliott to explain the situation. When he stubbornly stayed silent, Barley said, “You and I are going to be talking about my personal life, not yours. I don’t like strangers knowing these kinds of personal things, even if there’s attorney-client privilege. So you best put one of your biggest clients at ease and tell me how you know my personal assistant, huh?”
I’d never loved Barley more than I did right then, cheerfully explaining, “I would have saved you the embarrassment and told you he’s my boss, but you jumped to conclusions.”
The weighing look I always wanted to break through took over Eliott’s face as he looked at me, his focus shifting slightly across me as if he had x-ray vision. Refusing to show any reaction to it, glad my half-hardness was hidden by the table, I took another bite of my pastry, teeth bared and piercing through the buttery croissant and melting chocolate filling.
“I’ve encountered Mr. Sycamore socially on a few occasions,” Eliott finally said. Each syllable was snapped off and encased in ice so it was razor-sharp and blistering.
Hurt crackled into my nerve endings like a lightning strike. What kind of man asked me out with his eyes on fire, then a day later tried to play it like he hardly knew me at all?
I sucked in a breah, ready to blast him, when he ran one hand over his hair and then touched the knot of his tie. This was just like he’d reacted when I was seducing him at the diner, throwing out cool, sharp words as a defense. I guessed that he was uncomfortable, and since I wasn’t ready to let him off the hook yet, I couldn’t resist taunting him.
“Encountered me, that’s a new way to say fucked around. I thought you were all about that brutal honesty, but maybe you really are just a two-faced lawyer.”
Eliott went rigid and if I hadn’t seen him lose his cool before, I wouldn’t have been able to see the tiny fissures in his professional demeanor at all now. “It’s called discretion, Gavin.”
“Are you not out at work?” Barley asked in genuine concern. “Because I may be a world-class moron, but I’m a vault over here. Like I said, I know what it’s like having your personal life talked about by people who have no fucking business knowing any of it.”
Eliott’s mouth twisted up for a second and then he reassured Barley with painful politeness, “I appreciate the concern, but I’m out. But this is my job and who I… see has nothing to do with it. And I understand that this will be an invasive process for your, Mr. Finn, but I assure you I’m not here to judge you and I honestly don’t care what you tell me.”
“That’s fucked up,” I said.
“You’re not here because you’ve been accused of a crime, Mr. Finn,” Eliott said dryly. “I’ve been handling prenuptial agreements and divorces for affluent clients for eight years. I can assure you, I’ve heard it all. I’ll only be surprised if you tell me it’s going to be amicable.”
That made Barley snort and throw himself back in the chair so hard, it rocked. “I’m divorcing Carina Lamonte, so I promise you, it’s not going to be amicable. But this is my second divorce, so I can assure you I’m just relieved that Carina and I don’t have any kids.”
“Carina… Lamonte,” Eliott said stiltedly. “The Tony-award winning Carina Lamonte…?”
“Yeah,” Barley sighed.
“Don’t worry, rock star, you have more awards than she does,” I supported Barley. He shot me a fuck off look that was all bark and no bite. I ate some more pastry, not bothered in the least by it, and asked him, “Is that enough quid pro quo? Or do you want to dither around for another couple of hours before you find out what Eliott needs to get started?”
“I see you’re getting impatient, Mr. Discretion, let’s get into it,” Barley said in the same tone he used when speaking to his grown daughter. He picked up his pastry and then brandished it at Eliott, adding a warning, “But don’t think you’re off the hook.”
Eliott woke up his tablet again with another stroke of his finger and consulted what I was sure was a questionnaire or spreadsheet, something that laid out in excruciating detail everything that he would need to find out. I was sitting here more for moral support and to take any hard copies, for old-fashioned or anal-retentive lawyers who were into wasting paper.
So I zoned out while he went through everything. But I could tell by how relaxed Barley was, not fidgeting or eating a ton just to have something to do with his hands, that Eliott was good at his job. Engaging and not droning on and on at one pitch, which made Barley’s musician heart want to die. I just played a puzzle game on my cell and occasionally let my eyes stray back to Eliott’s hands or his sharp eyes, noticing how unwound he looked. Even right after he’d orgasmed, there was still some tension in him. But not like this.
It made me jealous of a fucking job.
When Barley stood up, twisting his spine to crack his back, I knew they were done.
I skirted the table until I was looming over Eliott, who was still seated, typing some last notes or whatever it was on his tablet. I flapped my hand at Barley behind my back where Eliott couldn’t see, trying to shoo him out so Eliott and I could have a second alone.
“I’ll stand guard outside the door to give you two a minute alone,” Barley said.
“Gavin,” Eliott murmured in that unbending voice, leaning his chair back to make direct eye contact with me. Even though he was beneath me, somehow the look was so self-assured it was like he still had the upper hand. “I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions, but the last place I expected to see you was here, coming in with a client. It threw me off and I just blurted out the first stupid thought to cross my mind. I didn’t mean to insult you.”
I wanted to snap out a pithy takedown, but instead quiet words clawed up my throat and past my guard. “Maybe we shouldn’t go out, Eliott. We might not have known each other very long, but it’s insulting that you think I’d pursue you while married. Even if I were here to get divorced, I would’ve told you I was separated. I’m upfront, and you told me your dad was a cheater too, so I would’ve respected that. And we’ll be seeing each other in a professional way for the divorce too, so I wouldn’t want anything to interfere with our jobs.”
Slowly, Eliott nodded and rolled his chair back so he could stand up. With me still perched on the table, our bodies were close, his hips between my knees, and it was a little bit of torture. His free hand rubbed across his lips and then he sighed. “I was jealous.”
“What?” I blurted out, since that hadn’t crossed my mind at all.
“Jealous,” he repeated, his jaw tense now. A flash of irritation went through his eyes that was maybe actually hiding some embarrassment. “You walked in flirting—”
“Non-sexually bantering.”
“—with some tatted-up, sexy silver fox—”
“My boss.”
“—and I thought, Of course.”
Now that had my face screwing up in confusion. “Of
course? Of course, what?”
His thumb brushed my chin as he sighed again. “Of course you’re with a man like that.”
Our eyes locked and then he jerked back, shoving his hands into his pockets and clearing his throat. A stab of something… not entirely painful went through me, realizing that while I had assumed maybe I wasn’t good enough for him, he’d had a comparable assumption that he wasn’t exciting enough for me. If I’d pictured him with another matching corporate type and he’d pictured me with another daredevil, then Barley objectively fit the bill. I felt the hurt from earlier soften into a forgivable misunderstanding.
My heart started racing, feeling suddenly confident in the potential we had. The man I’d first met would never have apologized so earnestly or trusted me enough to be vulnerable and say he’d been jealous because he was worried he wasn’t enough for me. It buoyed my conviction that this was worth pursuing, even if we had bumps along the way.
“In that case,” I said, stroking down his body from his throat to his belt buckle along his tie, the way I had before, “you can’t let jealousy win, you have to kick its ass.”
Something relaxed in Eliott’s expression. “Do I?”
“Yes,” I replied decisively. “You have to take me out so you can win. Friday works, but I’ll be working until probably seven, so we should maybe do a later dinner.”
“Not to ruin this moment, but what did you mean, we’ll be working together?”
While I reached out and picked up Eliott’s wrist, rotating it gently so that I could inspect the snazzy cufflink he was wearing, I replied absently, “You’ll be working with me from here on out.” His fingers flexed, his nails brushing my inner arm feather-light and making goose bumps pop up on my skin. His reaction pleased me so much that I gave him a little more. “I have access to everything you need and Barnyard is in the studio for the next couple months. The studio’s only at Barley’s house an hour away, but they can’t let a divorce slow down their creativity, can they? He only came in today to see if he likes you.”
Eliott’s eyes flickered down to my hand still holding on to him and then back up to my face, honing in on my mouth, which I quirked up in reaction. “And does he like me?”
