Nemesis

by Chantal Fernando

  Nemesis

  by

  Chantal Fernando

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyrighted material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission from the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  CHANTAL FERNANDO

  Published March 2016

  Cover design © Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs

  Edited by Hot Tree Editing

  NEMESIS is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Please do not take offense to the content, as it is FICTION.

  Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders, The authors acknowledges the trademarked status in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Copyright © 2016 Chantal Fernando

  All rights reserved.

  “We are all broken—that’s how the light gets in.”

  ― Ernest Hemingway

  Dedication

  To my parents,

  Thank you for everything you do for me!

  I appreciate and love you both.

  (Now Mum, please don’t read this book.)

  Acknowledgements

  A big thank you to Arijana Karcic at Cover It! Designs for your amazing talent and friendship. I kind of love you. You’re seriously the best.

  To Rose Tawil—Thank you so much for everything. I wouldn’t be able to function without you! You are one of the best souls I’ve ever come across.

  My beta readers Stephanie Knowles, Eileen Robinson, Kara Brown and Melanie Williams—thank you all for your help. I appreciate you all.

  Hot Tree Editing—Thank you for being so wonderful.

  To my bestie Natalie Ram—I love you infinity. You know what this book means to be, and I hope you enjoy it.

  To my family—my parents, my sisters and my sons—I love you all.

  To my readers—I hope you love this book as much as I did writing it.

  Prologue

  The elevator door pings open, and I walk towards my reception desk. The click of my heels is the only sound echoing through the empty offices. I clutch the cup of coffee in my hand almost desperately, relying on it to get me through a long day. I shouldn’t complain, I know. I should be grateful to have a decent paying job, especially in today’s economy. But, it’s Monday, and I’d rather be at home in bed, curled up with a book than be stuck here all day. I’ve been looking for a new job for a month now. Truth be told, I’m too damn stubborn to leave this place. That would mean that he wins, and I can’t have that.

  “Good morning, sir,” I greet Jason Cannery, one of the four lawyers who works here at the firm.

  “Morning, Jacinta,” he says, smiling warmly as he stops by my desk. “Did you bring me my coffee?”

  “Did you bring me my chocolate?” I fire back, a private joke between us. When I first started working as a legal receptionist here, the men would ask me to bring them coffee every morning, which isn’t in my job description. At least, I don’t think it is, nor do I want it to be. I told them if they expect coffee, I better be getting something in return, because we’re all equal in the workplace. Luckily, they found me amusing, and I got to keep my job.

  “Tomorrow,” he replies, grinning. “When is my first client due again?”

  I look at my watch. “You have thirty minutes.”

  He nods and enters his office, closing the door behind him. Two more of the lawyers arrive, and I wish them a good morning, then open my laptop and turn it on. When he arrives, however, I don’t bother to look up. Yes, Cohen Lake is also a lawyer here, and yes, he’s good at what he does. He’s a criminal lawyer and, at thirty years old, he’s done extremely well for himself. But that doesn’t mean I have to like him.

  “Jacinta,” he says, and I pretend that the deep baritone of his voice doesn’t have any effect on me. I’m good at that, pretending.

  “Mr. Lake,” I say, still not looking up at him. Rude, I know. I do, essentially, work for this man, and he could have me fired, but he hasn’t yet. I don’t know why—guilt, probably. Maybe he just likes to torture me. I’m guessing the latter.

  He sighs and puts a folder on my desk. “New client. Can you add her details to the system?”

  I nod, reaching out for the file. When I grab it though, he puts his hand on top of mine, stopping my movement. I raise my gaze, our eyes locking. His green ones look back at me, framed in thick lashes, assessing, always assessing. His light brown hair is growing a little too long, and in need of a trim, but he manages to pull it off. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and I know that shirt probably costs more than I make in a week. With his tan, smooth skin, and the dimple on his right cheek, this man is a danger to women. He’s the one who should be locked away.

  “Let me go,” I demand, now looking down at our hands, keeping my expression impassive. “I don’t remember giving you permission to touch me.”

  He looks almost sad for a moment, before he shields it. He lets go of my hand—reluctantly, it seems. “Are you always going to be like this? It’s been a week. Why don’t you just—”

  “Why don’t you just walk into your office and leave me the fuck alone,” I say quietly, so no one else can overhear. I force a fake smile on my face. “Your first client will be here soon. Have a nice day, Mr. Lake. If I’m lucky, today is the day you’ll be run over by a car.”

  His jaw goes tight, and he opens his mouth to say something, but then thinks better of it. Instead, he walks into his office, closing the door behind him harder than he needs to.

  How mature.

  I pick up my coffee and bring it to my lips, taking a long sip.

  He’s a Scorpio. That should have been the first sign. Scorpio’s are very intense, complex people, and that was putting it mildly. He’s the king of mind games, the master of manipulation. He has to win at everything, no matter what it is. He expects you to give your all to him, while he gets to remain safe and emotionless.

  Cohen Lake is the reason I now hate my job, but he’s also the reason I won’t quit. If I do, he’ll know it’s because of what happened between us, and I can’t let that happen. No, I just need to forget all about him.
He’s nothing to me now, just someone I used to know. Someone I once trusted.

  Someone who broke my heart.

  Chapter One

  One Year Ago

  Jacinta

  I walk into work at least twenty minutes late, frantically looking around, hoping no one will notice. I run my fingers through my long, dark hair, trying to tame it as much as possible, and then check my makeup in a small mirror I keep in my handbag. I managed to line my blue eyes with eyeliner and coat my lashes in mascara, but that was the only product on my face. I put the mirror away, knowing it wasn’t going to get any better today; it was just one of those days. When I think I’m safe, finally letting myself relax in my chair, I look up into the green eyes of Cohen Lake, one of the lawyers here at the firm.

  “There you are,” he says, smiling warmly at me. I smile back, or at least I think I do. He’s a very, very good-looking man, and it’s hard to pay attention in his presence.

  “Yes, do you need something, sir?” I ask, quickly opening my laptop.

  He grins and hands me a piece of paper. “Could you please email Mr. Smith and let him know his court date and time? I have to head out to court now myself.”

  I nod and look down at the paper, familiar with the name of the client and his case. “No problem.”

  “Excellent,” he replies, glancing at his watch, then looking back at me. “You know it’s not a crime to come in late every once in a while. I think this is only the second time you’ve done it since you started working here.”

  My eyes widen. He pays that much attention? “I know it’s not a crime,” I say, looking him in the eye. “I just didn’t think that my honest excuse of my best friend being dumped again, and her crying her little heart out was going to be a valid reason. I also hate being late in general. It’s a pet peeve of mine, and not very professional.”

  “This place would fall apart without you,” he states matter-of-factly, gaze roaming over my face. “You know that, right? If you’re late every now and again, we’ll forgive you. I better get going, but I’ll be back around eleven for my meeting.” He walks to the elevator, butpauses. “I’m sorry about your friend, Jacinta.”

  “Uh, thanks,” I say, our eyes locking just as the elevator door shuts. The thing with Sadie is she trusts way too easily and then, when she gets hurt, it’s up to me to pick up the pieces. I, on the other hand, don’t trust at all. Then again, that’s probably why Sadie has so many dates, and why I haven’t gotten laid in over six months, although it feels more like ten years. I send Sadie a quick message, telling her she doesn’t need Chris and his cheating ass, and that she’s a wonderful person and deserves someone worthy of her. Then I look over the schedule for the day before sending the email to Cohen’s client.

  Cohen.

  I only call him by his first name in my head.

  I’m glad it’s him who saw me, and not one of the other lawyers who work here. Two of them are much older, and probably wouldn’t have been as cool about it. The third, Jason, is in his late thirties, but is usually grumpy.

  I look down at my black shirt and realise that I’ve done the buttons up wrong. I fix it quickly, hoping Cohen didn’t notice it. Knowing my luck, he did.

  Yeah, today is going to be a long-ass day.

  *****

  I’m on my lunchbreak, sitting at a café just across the road from the firm while eating a giant slice of chocolate cake, when he sits down opposite me. I look up at him in confusion, wondering exactly what he’s doing. Sure, we’ve had a few casual conversations before about non-work-related topics, but we’d never sat together for a meal or anything like that.

  “There’s no point in me sitting alone at a different table,” he says, flashing that dimple of his my way. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  I can’t exactly say no, now can I?

  I shake my head and mutter a very insincere, “Not at all.”

  He simply grins, apparently finding me amusing, then orders a coffee from a passing waitress.

  “How is your friend holding up?” he asks, looking me directly in the eye.

  “She’ll be fine,” I reply, putting my fork down. Does he actually care, or is he just making conversation? Cohen Lake is somewhat of an enigma to me. Young, successful and too good-looking for his own good, the man exudes confidence, sex appeal and charm. A dangerous mix, if you ask me. He’s the type of man every woman dreams about, but only a few could ever obtain. Before I took on this job, Debra, the receptionist who was training me before she left for overseas, warned me to stay away from Cohen. I’d looked at her quizzically, wondering why she’d have to caution me in the first place, when it was very unprofessional to even consider getting involved with someone I essentially worked for. When I saw him for the first time though, I understood. He was sin, wrapped in a tall, tempting, muscled package. Still, I wouldn’t go there. I need this job, and he probably had women throwing themselves at him every day. Did I think I was pretty? Yes. Was I the woman who got the guy every other woman wanted? No.

  Cohen continues to study me, and I find myself squirming a little. I start to fuss with my hair, something I tend to do when I’m a little nervous.

  “Do I make you nervous?” he asks, calling me out, which either makes him a jerk or just the no-bullshit type. I’m hoping it’s the latter.

  I instantly drop my hand. “No,” I lie, then add, “It’s just not every day that I sit at a café with my boss, hoping I don’t have chocolate all over my mouth whilst trying to pretend I’m not awkward and terrible at small talk.”

  He throws his head back and laughs, drawing attention from others around us. “Your honesty is so very refreshing, Jacinta. No, you don’t have chocolate on your face, I would have told you if you did. We can skip the small talk, and I don’t mind your awkwardness. Be as awkward as you want, it doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable. In fact, I find it strangely compelling.”

  Only because he is so confident. I don’t think anything could make him feel uncomfortable. He’d probably dominate every situation, and somehow turn it around to benefit him. He seems the type. Is he a control freak? I think he is.

  I pick my fork up and lift another bite of chocolate deliciousness to my lips. “Okay.”

  “Good,” he says, thanking the waitress as his coffee arrives. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “Me?” I ask, shaking my head. “No, thank you.”

  If I want something, I’ll get it myself.

  “You sure?” he asks, bringing the mug to his slightly parted, full lips. “I’ve noticed you always seem to have a cup of coffee attached to your hand. You want me to get you one to take back to the office?”

  Suspicion fills me. Is he always this nice, or does he want something? “I’m good.”

  A woman walks past, giving Cohen the eye. He doesn’t pay her any attention, but it has me wondering just who this man is. Does he have a girlfriend? What’s his story? Why did Debra warn me away from him? Maybe she had a thing with him, and was playing the part of a scorned lover. All she said was that he had a reputation, but I’m not one to listen to gossip. I like to make my own decision about people and judge them by how they treat me personally, not by rumours.

  “You’ve been working here for a few months now, right?” he asks, bringing me out from my thoughts.

  I nod. “Yes. Four actually”

  “Do you like it?” he continues, then looks down at his watch. “Shit. I should be getting back.” He throws some money on the table, way more than what his coffee would be. “Can we continue this conversation later? Same time tomorrow?” He flashes me a devilish smile, stands, and says, “Nice talking with you, Jacinta.” Then he departs from the café, leaving me staring behind him, wondering what the fuck just happened.

  Same time tomorrow?

  I don’t think so.

  Chapter Two

  “He pretty much pretended he really liked me, and that he wanted to date me so I’d fuck him, and then bailed after I did. Boned and motherfuck
ing bailed,” Sadie says, staring into her tub of cookies and cream ice cream. “All he said was that he isn’t ready for a relationship. Completely changed his tune.”

  “Asshole,” I mutter, handing her some gummy bears. “Forget him, he’s obviously a dick. Just learn from it and move on.”

  She picks out the red bears from the packet and shoves a few in her mouth. “I have the worst luck in men.”

  She says that line so much it’s going to go on her tombstone.

  “Maybe you should stop the whole online dating thing,” I suggest, shrugging. “Or at least take a break from it.”

  “Yeah,” she murmurs, putting the lid back on the ice cream. “I know. I just end up going back to it whenever I get bored. So many other people have met good men on there. It’s just me who somehow finds the dregs of society.”

  I open another bottle of wine.

  Sadie and I have known each other since we were about nine years old, and have been inseparable ever since. We’ve lived together for the past ten years, since we moved out of our parents’ homes at eighteen. I personally think she’s freaking out because she’s almost thirty and single, at a time where most other women are getting married or having babies. She says that her biological clock is ticking, but for some reason I don’t feel the same pressure that she does. There are worse things than being single. If I end up being a single dog mum, so be it. It actually sounds like a pretty good life to me.

  An hour later, we’re jumping on the bed singing along to “Zero” by Chris Brown, Sadie’s broken heart temporarily forgotten. Then we fall asleep, surrounded by candy wrappers.

  *****

  I swallow two painkillers the next morning, trying to look alive so no one at work notices my hangover. The problem with living with your best friend is that fun times aren’t always saved for the weekend; they can get out of hand at any given moment. I paid a little more attention to my appearance this morning to hide the bags under my eyes, or so I’ve been telling myself. I didn’t spend an hour ironing my hair straight, or an extra half an hour trying to get the perfect wing eyeliner for my little lunch chat with Cohen. Nope, I didn’t do that at all. As a matter of fact, I brought my own lunch today, for the first time ever, hoping to avoid him. I made cute little sandwiches, a fruit salad, and brought a thermos of coffee, so there’s really no need for me to leave my desk today, except to use the bathroom. I don’t ask myself why I’ve thought about this so much, or why, when the elevator doors open and Cohen walks out, I look down at my laptop to avoid his gaze.