by Rose Hudson
I chew the inside of my lip, crossing my legs and removing my gloves at the mention of Stone. It’s really warm in here. I swallow thickly.
“Well I owe you,” I say.
He glances up in the rearview mirror and gives a polite nod as we pull out onto the street, headed toward my office.
Most would consider our law firm as one of the upper echelons in Chicago. Aston and my father, Stellan, are well known and respected criminal law attorneys. Both sons of Swedish immigrants, they became quick friends and graduated high school, and later law school together. The decision to partner up and build a firm was seemingly made a decade before it happened, but when it did, there was no slowing them down. They are sharks among fish in these vast waters of corruption, and I’ll be the first to tell you that you do not want to go up against them in the courtroom.
Aston’s daughter, Madison, three months younger than me, was my favorite part of life from infancy on. I was that boring, focused child that read and studied until Madi would come over and drag me out, force me to be a kid. Our lives are so intertwined that it’s hard to distinguish the two sometimes.
When I enter the office, I can already see bodies at the large oblong table in the conference room through the frosted glass of the windows. Diane’s head rises from her desk, eyes glaring at me over the rims of her glasses.
“The nine o’clock is already in there and Aston just walked through the door, Stellan—”
“My ears are burning,” my father says as he rounds the corner and smiles up at me and Diane. “Morning to you both. You ready?” He looks to me.
“Morning. Just let me grab my notebook.”
“Go ahead, I’ll refill my coffee.”
I see Diane scurry to the coffee maker as I enter my office. Kiss ass.
I know my dad drew the short straw when he decided to take me on as an assistant while I break in my newly fitted attorney shoes, but geez. Does she have to go shove it in my face? Believe it or not, I really try not to play the daughter card.
When I walk back to the lobby, dad is waiting for me by the conference room door, opening it and allowing me to go in first. Aston stands by the window talking on the phone, while our clients face away from the door at the table. When Aston hears us come in, he promptly ends his call, and I don’t miss the pained look in his eyes as he takes in my face. I know avoiding him is over.
Dad and Aston take the chairs at each end of the table, while I make my way around to the side opposite the clients. It’s not until I set the notebook I’m holding down on the table and pull out my chair, that I look up and take in the client’s faces. The smallest squeal passes my lips and my hand flies to my mouth as I stare at Stone and he stares at me, seeming almost as in shock as I am.
“Are you okay, Lydia?” Aston asks. I swallow thickly, and smile, looking from Stone to Aston.
“I was just a bit surprised to see Mr. Keeling here. My apologies.” I try to downplay my surprise, not wanting the entire room to know this man fucked my brains out mere hours ago.
“So, you know my daughter?” my father asks. I look nervously at Stone, but he speaks before I have the chance, standing from his chair and extending his hand to my father. So weird.
“I’m a friend of Helaena’s. She’s introduced me to Lydia once before. Congratulations, by the way, she’s lovely.”
So much happens in that split second it takes his words to expel from his mouth and land around me. One, my stomach flips and I’m sure the smile on my face is ridiculous and my father is probably growing suspicious because his daughter never has ridiculous smiles, and he is one of the best attorneys in this state and maybe even the country. Not much gets past him. Two, I must remind myself that Helaena doesn’t carry a sign around her neck that says ‘Hi, I’m a member of a sex club,’ because if she did, it wouldn’t take much calculating to figure out that’s how Stone and I met.
“I think I’ll take a little bit of responsibility in that as well.” Aston plasters on a smile and shakes Stone’s hand. Dad nods in agreement and I feel my silk shirt sticking to me in places where I’m starting to sweat a little.
“This is my brother, Rush. He’s who we’re meeting about today and since he’s seventeen for a few more weeks, I’ll be accompanying him.”
Seventeen? This kid is like six and a half feet tall, and even though Stone is built, this kid looks like he lifts free weights in his sleep.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Rush says as he shakes both Aston and Father’s hands. “Ma’am.” He nods at me and I smile in return.
“Let’s have a seat. Would anyone like a drink? Coffee? Water?” I ask around the table so that I can let Diane know before we get started. Everyone declines and we take our seats. I scoot up to the table and open my notebook, preparing myself to take notes, when I feel a nudge to my foot under the table. I peek up to find Stone’s eyes on me, and I press my lips together to hide the grin that dares to spread. What is wrong with me? I’m acting like a complete teenager.
“So, what brings you here today, guys?” Aston asks. Stone and Rush exchange looks, but Rush nods to his brother to take the reins.
“Rush was picked up for a list of charges early New Year’s Day, including what’s being made to look like assault, but was actually a street fight between Rush and Drew Cameron, Senator Cameron’s son.”
A tiny part of me that feels like I’m eavesdropping on a conversation I’m not meant to hear. Stone and I haven’t shared anything at this point, and now we know last names, he knows my profession and I know about his brother’s legal trouble. It’s almost laughable that he’s been face deep in my pussy, but it’s this that seems incredibly intimate.
“A street fight?” my father asks for clarification.
I feel an odd tinge of anxiety.
“A fight in exchange for money between the fighters, as well as spectators,” Stone answers.
“His dad is pressing charges against me to have the charges against Drew dropped and to screw up my scholarship to Northwestern,” Rush speaks up quickly.
“Okay son, we’re just attempting to understand the dynamic of what took place for you to be picked up by the police in the first place,” Aston says, looking over to me. “Make a note to familiarize ourselves with what they are specifically charging him with, along with everything you can find on recent juvenile cases with similar charges.”
I nod and write down everything he says.
“We’ll get a copy of the report from CPD.” My father looks to me and I nod, letting him know I’ve already written it down. From the corner of my eye, I see Stone straighten and fold his hands atop the table. I look to him but he doesn’t look up. Instead he looks to my father. That’s okay, I get it. I’m not the attorney here, that he knows of anyway. I’m sure he just assumes I’m the secretary.
“I spoke with the senator yesterday morning,” Stone says. He finally looks up at me, his eyes narrowing for a split-second and I cross my legs under the table, pressing my thighs together at the thought of yesterday. That’s why he needed me. That’s why he worked my body over the way he did. I don’t know much about Senator Cameron, but I met him at a charity auction last year and I must say I’d probably need more than an orgasm after sitting in a room alone with that guy.
“He made it very clear that he’s aware of my past and if I had to guess, I’m sure that’s what his attorney is going to use against Rush.”
“How could your past be used against Rush in this particular situation?” my father asks.
The hairs on my skin stand at attention and I feel my body instinctively lean forward in wait. His past? Now I get why having a purely sexual relationship has its benefits, other than the obvious, of course. Because I’m about to learn things I didn’t know before, things that didn’t factor in to the pleasure he brings me. But somehow, I know that’s about to change.
“I’ve fought for thirteen years, earned a reputation. One that the senator is apparently familiar with.”
“
Professionally?” Aston asks and I feel sick at his tone. I know he’s thinking of Madison because my mind immediately goes there as well.
Oh God.
“No, sir. Not professionally.” Stone doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t have to.
Aston stands from his chair.
“Stellan, Lydia, can you finish up? I have some business to attend to. Please, excuse me, gentlemen.” Aston is a pro at graceful exits at this point, so I’m sure Rush and Stone are none the wiser. But Dad and I know why he’s really leaving and it makes my stomach twist into a knot.
I feel like I’ve just been slapped in the face.
The door closes after Aston’s exit and I’m fearful of looking over at Stone and seeing him through different eyes now. Feeling the shift in the air, my father, the closer, turns the conversation in another direction.
“We’ll need to pull all personal records for you and Rush that could aid in preparing a case, given the likely possibility of this going to court.” He stands and thankfully extends his hand to Rush and Stone both. “Please give Lydia all of the information and I’ll call you if I receive anything from Cameron’s attorney in the meantime.”
Dad makes his way to the door. When his hand lingers on the handle of the conference room door, his indecision rolls over me as if he’d screamed it over a loud speaker. When he leaves the door open in lieu of pulling it closed behind him, I swallow thickly and look over at Stone who is already looking at me.
I’m smothering in the tornado of emotions that pull me into their cyclone. I’m angry and disgusted, but sorrowful and sympathetic at the same time, the latter I can’t explain. No matter what, I must remain professional.
I pick up the tabletop phone and buzz Diane, who I don’t even give a chance to speak when I hear her answer.
“Did we get a full set of paperwork on Mr. Keeling? His guarantor information as well?”
She confirms and I hang up.
“Okay, it looks like we have at least the initial information needed to pull records. When I get them from CPD and Stellan has a chance to look at them, I’ll call and set up a time convenient for you.” I fold the notebook closed and gather it close to my chest. I look to Rush who looks up at me and I can’t help the concern I hold for him, the same concern I had for Madison the night I found out exactly what bare-knuckle fighting was. “Nice to meet you, Rush. I’ll be seeing you soon. Stay out of trouble.”
“Thank you.” He shakes my hand surprisingly gently for as huge as he is and turns to walk out into the hallway. I watch his retreating form and think about what I’ll say to his brother. I try and stretch time for just a minute longer, telling myself that Stone won’t understand the emotional outburst that wants to come.
Run. Lose yourself. Forget about everything.
That all too familiar conscience of mine keys up when Stone walks up to me, the heat of his body nothing compared to the look in his eyes when I look up at him. I know this isn’t the time or the place for this conversation, but it’s best that he knows there won’t ever be a time or a place for it.
Make it short and sweet, Lydia.
I glance out into the hallway, moving out of sight of the doorway and against the wall, knowing Diane’s desk is just on the other side.
“Tell me you didn’t know this is where I worked—that this was my family’s firm.”
“All I knew was this is the firm where Helaena holds her accounting practice. I had no idea about the rest.” His eyes are void of deception and his voice is clear and direct, all characteristics of someone being honest. He eases forward until his chest grazes mine, my nipples rubbing the inside of my sheer bra and I know he doesn’t miss the chill that runs through me when the slightest glimmer flickers in his eyes.
Short and sweet.
“I don’t see clients, Stone.”
Diversion.
“We aren’t seeing each other, we’re fucking. And it seems we’re pretty great at it.” His hands fall to my waist, thumbs applying delicious pressure to my hipbones.
He isn’t who you think he is.
“I don’t fuck clients, either,” I correct myself, mouth going dry and chest rising and falling faster as my heart races. I glance down the length of the wall, ensuring nobody’s there. He wedges his knee between my legs, our chests flush against one another. He places a hand on either side of my head on the wall, bending slightly until our eyes are level, drilling into one another.
“Like you wouldn’t love for me to take you up against this wall—fuck you like your life depends on it?” I lick my lips and use my eyes to plead with his. “I can play the degenerate and you can play the egocentric little rich girl. What do you say, Lydia? Care to role play?”
Time doesn’t slow, it slams to a halt. What did he just say?
He pushes off the wall, stepping back and pulling his wallet from his pocket. He throws a white card on the table.
“There’s my card so you’ll have my information handy. Wouldn’t want you to have to exert yourself digging through files.” He walks to the door, grabbing the frame and pausing momentarily. “Oh, wait. I forgot you’ve already got my number. It’s probably under ‘dick-for-hire.’”
Then he’s gone.
For a brief moment, I feel guilty, sorry that he’d witnessed not only my reaction but Aston’s and probably even my father’s change in demeanor. I know he doesn’t understand, him calling me a little rich girl telling me he thinks this is about bank accounts or social class.
But it’s about losing someone I love at the hands of someone like him—someone who inflicts pain and hurt on others with their bare hands. You never know that you despise something until it affects your life, and I despise the underground fighting syndicate and all its members. I’ve witnessed it first hand and know that the men that partake in such vulgar, physically altering activity are savage beasts.
Even with that knowledge, I’m not an idiot. I know that not every fighter is an animal. But even taking a chance that Stone could be different from Damon while Madison lies in that hospital bed barely clinging to life, makes considering something with Stone insane.
Besides all the cons of continuing our sexcapades, now Stone’s a client of the firm. I will be responsible for processing all his information and evidence to present to my father to build a defense. Rush will be eighteen in a matter of weeks, and the fact that we are dealing with a soon to be federal senator since Cameron decided to run for U.S. Senate instead of State Senate this election, I can only imagine the current size of his damn ego. So, the possibility of this getting ugly is big.
Sure, Cameron will want to keep this quiet while at the same time dominating the outcome, but I must determine what this is really about, even see if we can’t bargain down the charges for either party to keep this from getting out of hand.
Stone’s business card feels heavy in my hand as I retrieve it from the table and I can’t help but roll my eyes. Dick-for-hire.
Stone is confident, but not arrogant. As arrogant as that statement would seem to someone who hadn’t had his hands on them, his dick inside them, I know better. That man brought me to my knees more times this weekend than I’d ever admit. It wasn’t just his knowledge of pleasure itself, but his knowledge of my body. So practiced and familiar that it felt like I’d experienced a lifetime’s worth in three days. He pulled desire from me that I didn’t even know existed.
A part of me ignites in hatred for him showing me what I’ve been missing. I had everything under control. My life was what it was, and now the knowledge of who he is will be the double-edged sword that also makes me feel like something’s missing.
But knowing there was a monster in my bed instead of under it, remembering those hands that can cause such damage, touching every part of me, that’s what my nightmares are made of.
I TOSSED AND TURNED TO the point that Bruno pawed at the side of the bed, finally getting me up and going for our run two hours earlier than usual. Sometimes I feel guilty for having such a big
dog in the city. Seems unfair to keep him closed up like that. But I’ve got a plan and one day soon, he’s gonna have all the room he needs.
Being an adult basically means we find ourselves doing shit we don’t want to do. Working at jobs we hate. Giving our hard-earned money to people who don’t deserve it.
I do every fucking month, and I don’t mean paying bills. I mean Jerry. I was ten years old when he and his wife, Celia, received the three of us from the state. Most of the time his example was pure shit, but I chose not to like him from the beginning, so my eyes may not have been willing to see any good in him.
When I walk through the front door and see him sitting in the same recliner he’s sat in for the last seventeen years, it’s hard to think of the good. Because he opens his mouth in typical Jerry fashion.
“And here I thought Christmas was over,” he says. He knows why I’m here and he fucking loves it. I don’t even entertain his bullshit anymore.
“Where’s Mom?” In all legal and familial meanings of the word, she isn’t my mother. But I’ve always believed she was the one good thing that came from the death of my parents.
“Where the hell you think?” He takes the envelope of cash in my hand before I can fully extend it to him. I instinctively curl a fist in its absence. He doesn’t miss it, curling one side of his upper lip. As much as I’d like to paralyze his sorry ass, I know it’d just be more work for Celia. That’s all that saves him. Guaranteed.
I can hear Etta James flowing softly down the hallway through the crack of Celia’s ajar bedroom door. Her humming reminds me of my earliest years in this house in the bedroom across the hall. I knock lightly at her door, looking briefly over at the closed door of my old room.
“Come in,” she says, and I open the door.
She’s sitting in front of the window in the oversized armchair I bought her this past Mother’s Day finally replacing the one she’d worn down after years of use. Her practiced hands work rapidly and without hesitation as she directs the crochet needles, creating hats and blankets for the babies that come through the NICU at Lurie Children’s hospital.
