by Amanda Lance
I frowned and abandoned the container of bleach in the sink. I had used so much the drain was starting to erode some kind of rust.
And then, just like that, my mind returned to the earth-shattering sex. Both sessions of it. Frankly, I was glad I had managed to keep it out of my mind as long as I had. I peered my head around the thin bathroom door and glanced at my charging phone.
Forty-five minutes. That had to be some kind of a record for one of Sebastian’s victims.
Because that was what I was now, I was one of his victims, and I’d probably end up as one of the throw-aways my father had warned me about the very day I had met Sebastian. I desperately wanted to believe that he had helped me in the bar to be honorable, but the more I looked back, the more I recalled the terrible names he had called me over the last weeks, and how much it had bothered me that he had pretended not to know me or my father.
Bother wasn’t quite the word. Disturb was far more accurate. But once he slammed his lips into mine, lust had melted away my anger and curiosity and all I could think about was getting laid.
Why did he play mind games with me, anyway? Just to see what I would do? Try out a new method of flirting? I was so obsessed with the idea of getting off again when I saw him return, practically steaming with rage—though why that turned me on so much, I didn’t bother to explore either—that all I wanted was him inside of me. No answers. Just sex.
I felt shame now at the mere thought of it. I had abandoned basic principles of truth just for my body’s physical desires. And as wonderful as it was, there was more shadow than afterglow.
I startled at a knock at the door, my instincts telling my instantly it wasn’t Nicky or even the noisy transsexual who lived down the hall. No, this knock was way too stern to belong to anyone even remotely female. And despite the fact that it was a nice summer day in a loud neighborhood, I hesitated for the slightest instant before answering. Apparently, the experience with Quinn in the bar had done more damage than I initially thought
“Hello? Anybody home?
The voice that came through my door was masculine to be sure, yet there was a touch of friendliness to it that almost instantly melted my trepidation.
“W-Who is it?” I called back.
“Chicago PD. We’re looking for Violet Donovan.”
It was like a bad case of déjà vu. Still, I already knew that if Quinn was pressing charges against Sebastian, I would have to give a statement eventually. What I didn’t understand, however, was why he would bother pressing charges at all? With all of the witnesses, did Quinn really think he would have any kind of a case?
I opened the door cautiously, taking a little glance before I unlocked the chain. Unsurprising, individuals representing the Chicago Police Department were standing at my front door. What did surprise me was the square chin and the soft eyes on the taller and younger detective. Though I only glanced at him briefly, his stature easily suggested he was a boxer or some other type of athlete that involved an unseemly amount of aggression.
“That’s me.”
I smiled awkwardly, suddenly very aware of the fact that I was wearing a thin white tank top with a very black bra. I all but closed the door, leaving only a crack of light between us. Maybe I was wrong, but I thought I saw Detective Square Jaw smile.
The older detective didn’t even blink. “We were by earlier but you didn’t answer.”
“I, um…” I shifted my feet and started again. “Yes, sorry about that. I probably had my headphones on. This is a really loud area.”
Mr. Square Jaw just kept right on smiling
The older detective with wisps of gray in his ginger colored beard looked past me to my apartment, his nose turning up at the smell of bleach and air freshener. “I’m Detective McBell and this is Detective Hurley—”
“Oh, right.” I said hurriedly. “Can I just see some identification?”
The older detective grimaced and I had the feeling he was restraining himself from rolling his eyes. Maybe, I thought, they were putting a new spin on ‘good cop v. bad cop’—maybe now it was ‘grumpy old-man cop v. too-attractive-to-be-in-law-enforcement cop.’
“Of course.” At least Detective Square Jaw didn’t hesitate to reach for his badge. I only caught a quick glance at it, but saw his name was Matthew Hurley and decided that was very fitting.
“Thanks.” I stepped aside and gestured for the two detectives to come in—even though McBell had given me attitude. “Sorry about that. You can never be too careful.”
“No” McBell scoffed. “You can’t.”
“It’s definitely smart-thinking.” Hurley smiled at me again in a way that made my toes curl. Was he trying to flirt with me?
His partner, however, was all business. “So we just have a few questions to ask you.”
“Of course.” I smiled as politely as I could and gestured for them to sit. “I’m an open book.”
And I was, too. Eager to protect the firm’s reputation, Roger and a small team of senior associates had coached me on what to say when the police came for my statement. Still, that was before Sebastian had screwed my brains out, called me an idiot and kicked me out. And regardless of the amazing night we’d had together, I was less inclined to defend him than I originally thought. In spite of this, I promised myself I would do my best to remain indifferent, as I had been instructed.
“What time did you arrive at Newman’s Pub?” McBell asked.
Hurley touched the top of my Chicago Bears bobble heads. I smiled before looking away and grabbing a sweatshirt to cover my barely-dressed state.
“Quarter to eight. I went straight from the office with a couple other underlings.”
Hurley’s eyebrow went up. “Underlings?”
“Anyone lower than a third year associate or someone who brings in less than two million in billings.”
McBell rolled his eyes, but neither of them said a word.
“How much did you have to drink?”
Uncomfortable with the annoyed tone in McBell’s voice, I sat on my sofa and began picking at some of its loose threads. “I was still working on my first drink.”
“Were you drinking at the office?” McBell asked.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Really?” His voice was all skepticism. “Not even a little nip?”
“No. I was completely sober.” Maybe I sounded a little defensive than I should have, but I didn’t like the implication I heard in his voice—the suggestion that I had gotten exactly what I deserved.
“Why don’t you just tell us what happened?”
I straightened my back and stared at a sunspot on the wall, reciting what happened exactly as it had happened without admitting to anything that could be construed as immoral. Before I could resist, I smiled to myself. If I actually brought in any money, the firm would have done more than just coach me—they would have sent me home with my own lawyer.
“And what were you wearing?”
The sound of McBell’s harsh voice interrupted my thoughts. “Excuse me?”
“Were you ah—” McBell pointed at my shorts and snorted. “Wearing something like that?”
I looked at Hurley as if for conformation. Was I actually being asked this? “What does that have to do with anything?”
McBell looked at Hurley before rolling his eyes again. “Maybe Mr. Morgan got the wrong impression—”
“Mr. Morgan is a brutish pig who got what he deserved.”
The blood drained from my face. Oops. So much for trying to remain indifferent.
Satisfied with himself, McBell smacked his lips together and stood up. “Well, between this, the initial report and witness testimony I think we have everything we need. We’ll call you if we have any follow-up questions.”
I sprang up to get the door, looking forward to being alone with my thoughts again. Without even thanking me for my time, Detective McBell walked out into the hallway and stood impatiently. Hurley, however, didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Still standin
g on the other side of my microwave cart, he smoothly pulled out one of his cards from the front pocket of his shirt. Without even hesitating, he grabbed a pen out of the mail organizer and wrote something on the back of it. I was still standing at the door when he handed it to me, his smile serious but playful at the same time.
“If you have any questions…” Hurley slid the card into my hand, his fingers lingering in mine a little longer than necessary before he slipped out the door. It wasn’t until after I heard their footsteps retreating down the hall that it occurred to me to look at it.
He had written his cell phone number on the back.
Chapter 4
Violet
By Monday morning my apartment was spotless and my laundry complete, but Sebastian still hadn’t called like I was trying not to hope for. I cursed at myself and pretended to focus on the ice in my coffee. The elevator was empty on my way up to the office, and I was filled with gratitude. At the same time, however, it made me aware of the potential awkwardness I might have to endure because of Friday night’s incident.
My fears were quickly confirmed almost as soon as I stepped into the main lobby. Several brief glances were shot in my direction. Curious stares and colleagues elbowing one another to inform each other that I was there made me even more self-conscience and I clutched my iced coffee like it was the only thing keeping me there. To make matters worse, Nicky wasn’t at her desk like I had hoped. Instantly, I felt disparaged and went in search of her.
Maybe it was the sleepless weekend I had spent thinking of Sebastian, but it seemed as if the glimpses people were giving me were tuning into downright stares. Just to be sure I wasn’t being paranoid, I did look up from the floor and smiled a few times at various colleagues. As I suspected, however, eyes snapped back to attention. Had I missed something? Wasn’t I the one who had almost been sexually assaulted? I cringed and chewed on the end of my straw. Maybe Quinn Morgan had more friends at the firm than I had anticipated.
“There you are.” Nicky ambushed me from behind, startling me so badly I almost dropped my coffee. She smiled just as awkwardly as I did and tangled my arm in hers. “Are you okay? I’ve been trying to call you all weekend.”
“I’m okay, thanks,” I whispered back to her nervously, grateful that Nicky shooed away one of her receptionist and led us behind the secretary station. “Sorry I didn’t call back. I was just, ah, feeling weird about all of it.”
Nicky shrugged it off, crossing her long legs as she sat on the desk. “I don’t blame you. If I were you, I don’t know if I would have even been brave enough to come in today. Everyone is really pissed about Sebastian. I’ve been doing my best to set the record straight, but this place might as well be a sewing circle when it comes to gossip.”
“Of course they’re mad; he didn’t deserve to be charged.” I looked up from reception station to see a mail clerk flip me the bird. “But why is everyone mad at me?
“You didn’t hear?”
I shook my head.
Nicky blanched and quickly pretended to focus on a pile of files. “Sorry, I just assumed.”
The frustration had me ready to scream. “Nicky, spit it out.”
“They made Sebastian take a leave of absence. Basically, a suspension until further notice…somehow it got tangled up with the rumors about you and I guess people are kind of—”
“Blaming me?”
I cringed inside. Of course people blamed me. In their eyes I was just an intern who was sleeping her way to the top. Sebastian, on the other hand not only kept the clients coming back, he made the underlings laugh, knew how to keep the receptionists happy and was a master at reining in Roger Gardner. Without question, he used the same charisma amongst his colleagues that he had used on me.
The only difference was that he hadn’t tried to break their hearts.
A bubbling resentment stayed with me throughout the day. To avoid the continuing judgments of my colleagues and superiors, I used the stairs instead of the elevator, stayed away from the water cooler, and above all, only walked inside the ladies room when I absolutely had to. I could only imagine the rumors floating around the courthouse, police station, and amongst the other law firms. Like gossip on a college campus, the story of what really happened was probably morphing through every telling, evolving to become a monstrous thing of its own. Sebastian already had a reputation in Chicago, was renowned for his talent and ability to tongue-tie district attorneys. I, on the other hand might have cultivated the very same reputation Sebastian had warned me about without enjoying any of the benefits. Yes, Sebastian and I had slept together—but it was after everyone assumed I already was. And while I did sleep with my boss, something I wasn’t entirely proud of by itself, I hadn’t done it to get ahead.
I had just done it out of lust.
My anger continued throughout the day. Not just because of the continuing snippets of rumors I heard every time I rounded a corner, but because of the fact that Sebastian had yet to contact me. Even if he had ignored me in the office, I would have known that taking the time of overlook me was a deliberate move for him. If he was making the effort to pretend I didn’t exist, then at least he was thinking about me. And it wasn’t just the mind-blowing sex that convinced me of this. His confession of remembering me had been enough of a demonstration that I had been on his mind—a subject of his affection in one form of another.
But now that I didn’t have any access to him at all, I wasn’t so sure.
It was a combination of these thoughts and the continuing bitterness that made me confident enough to call him. As soon as I was home, I slipped off my shoes and situated myself on my loveseat. There was an assortment of things to talk about, but really all I wanted to do was yell at him, to complain about my day to someone who would understand the relevance of it all. And though I knew he probably wouldn’t listen, and certainly wouldn’t care, the possibility that venting my anger to him was too appealing to ignore.
The phone only rang once before he picked up. And just like when he had banished me from his home, Sebastian’s voice was smooth and clear as glass. “You’re late.”
I startled at his tone. Maybe a part of me had expected him to not pick up at all. But now that he had, I resolved to make myself as memorable as possible. “Did we have plans?”
“Oh.” Sebastian sighed, cleared bored with me already. “You.”
“Yes, me, Violet.” I felt myself rolling my eyes. Even over the phone he had to play games. “The women you slept with two days ago…”
The lack of response, not even so much as the sound of a suppressed laugh, diminished my confidence for a second. Had he actually hung up on me without so much as an insult? I picked at the threads of the loveseat and tried again.
“Who was I supposed to be?” I asked.
Once again, he sighed in irritation. “The escort I ordered is late.”
“E-escort?”
“Yes,” He snorted. “You know, someone I pay for sexual relations?”
“I’m aware of what an escort is.”
“Considering your intellect, I thought I should elaborate.”
“It just seems—” I struggled for the right word or turn of phrase, but as usual, Sebastian already knew what I wanted to say.
“A waste of money? I thought so, too at first, but it really is easier. I don’t have to deal with silly little girls like yourself afterward.”
“I was going to say beneath you.” I was proud of myself for not blushing at my obscene thought. “But I guess that’s the point.”
He sighed lazily. “I forget what a clever girl you are sometimes.”
“You shouldn’t.” I laughed. “I am in the top twenty percent of my class.”
“Grades are only a number on a piece of paper.”
“What do you mean?”
“How good are you at improvising? You’ll find yourself needing to do it frequently in the courtroom.”
“I—I don’t know. I’ve never really put any thought into
it.”
Though we were only on the phone, I detected a deliberate pause before he spoke again. “What are you wearing?”
I startled. Was this going where I thought it was? “What?”
“You heard me. What are you wearing?”
“Pink silk blouse, beige pencil skirt—”
“You’re phasing that as a question. Don’t.”
As disturbing as it was, I was insanely turned on by his confident, demanding tone. Yet despite my awareness of this and what my body was already starting to do, I was anxious about losing control. “I’m just confused about why you’re asking me what I’m wearing.”
“I’m giving you a practice in improvisation. Now tell me what color your panties are.”
“I—” I bit my lip and took my hair out of its tie. If I was going to do this, then I might as well have gone all in. Who knew? Maybe I’d actually learn how to improvise. “They’re pink.”
“Hmm, good.” His voice was as smooth as silk. “Now take them off.”
“Really?”
“If I was there I would have already done it. Now stop asking stupid questions and do what I tell you.”
Again, I bit my lip. “Only if you take off your shirt.”
He laughed and it made me shiver, despite the summer heat. “I’m already naked.”
The idea of his perfect body sent a gush of fluid between my legs.
“Are those panties off yet?”
I exhaled sharply, fumbling to keep the phone at my ear and lift myself up enough to wiggle my panties past my thighs. The moment I did, I felt innately free.
“Better?” The smile in his voice was obvious.
“Yes”
“I bet you’re already wet.”
Without hesitation my free hand reached for my breast. But despite how turned on I was, I didn’t want to give him the upper hand. “N-no.”
“If I was there right now, I’d prove what a liar you are.”
The phone slipped from my hands and fell to the ground. Startled by the noise and instantly angry with myself that I hadn’t noticed how sweaty my palm had gotten, I scrambled to pick it up.
