His brow furrowed. “There’s not much seating outside the courtrooms.”
She started to speak, but a truck honked loudly. “No, it’s—” The truck honked again. “It’s ok. I understand. I’ll just wait out here.”
Pigeons suddenly flew up from the steps in an explosion of thudding wings and loose feathers. Maisie ducked even though there was no danger of them hitting her.
“Actually,” she said, “can I go to the office?”
Raphael looked like he wanted to deny her request, but he surprised her by saying, “I don’t see why not, but keep your phone close. You can take Trent’s car and driver.” He gestured at a sleek black sedan idling at the curb.
During the ride to the office, Maisie checked and rechecked her makeup. She was dying to talk to Ethan, to find out why Davina was needed so suddenly.
But mostly, she wanted to see him, to assure herself that he was real. Trent and Raphael had acted like she was just any other employee, and Maisie was starting to feel like she’d imagined yesterday’s sexy goings-on.
Mrs. Donahue intercepted her in the hallway. “I need you to take care of the paperwork you were assigned. If you can’t handle it—”
“I can handle it,” she said, irritated.
Because Mrs. Donahue was watching, she went to her desk instead of Ethan’s office. She figured she’d drop off the purse, then go find him, but when she saw the stacks of folders, a panicky feeling gripped her. Why hadn’t the partners told Mrs. Donahue to stop piling on the work? Surely she knew what was happening, or Maisie would have been screamed at for being gone half the day.
She flipped through the folders until she found something requiring Ethan’s signature. It took a couple of minutes to fill out the form and print the final copy, and then she was heading down to his office, her feet practically flying.
His assistant must have stepped away, and his door was closed.
Maisie picked up the phone to call him, but then the door jerked open.
Jayne came barreling out, her jaw set, her eyes narrowed. Maisie wasn’t sure she’d ever seen someone so mad that they’d clenched their fists.
“Jayne—” Ethan came to the door. He looked anguished. “Goddamn it,” he growled under his breath.
He was so tall, his shoulders so broad. Her heart pounded. Today the scarred side of his face wasn’t as shocking, maybe because she’d expected it. When his expression was neutral, it was far less noticeable in general.
She remembered how his cock had felt, how thick it was, and a silken tremor ran through her pussy. She wanted more of that. Needed it.
Did he even know she was there? “Hi,” Maisie said, feeling uncomfortable.
His dismissive glance said he knew, but he didn’t care.
Maisie held out the paper. “Um, this is for you.”
He took it without looking at it. “Thanks.”
Then he disappeared into his office and closed the door.
Maisie blinked slowly several times. What the hell?
Heart heavy, she trudged back to her desk. Suddenly she didn’t feel so pretty. If anything, the dress was too froufrou, too restrictive, and it wasn’t her style at all. She was Maisie Novau. She was a panther, not a flowery powder puff.
She slumped into her chair and began to tackle the paperwork.
Yeah, now she knew the real reason why LB&B needed to pay so much. They expected you to give them control of everything in your life—and she didn’t mean the sex. They’d made her babysit Davina last night and all morning, but the rest of her work kept increasing. And, yeah, the clothes had been a nice touch, but would it have killed Ethan to thank her for dropping everything on short notice yesterday?
She wondered what the corporate speaker had suggested to improve Ethan’s management skills. A personality transplant, maybe.
She sorted the work by type, then eyed the towering piles. It would take at least ten hours to get it all done.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, she sliced her thumb.
A bright drop of blood welled up, then trickled down the side of her hand. Another drop quickly replaced it.
“Shit,” she mumbled. She didn’t have any tissues in her purse, and her desk was mostly empty—except for the files on the top, of course.
Holding her hand up, she speed-walked to the closest bathroom. Someone was in one of the stalls.
Maisie turned on the water and held her hand under the faucet, then washed with soap. The bleeding had stopped, but she still wrapped her thumb in a paper towel and applied pressure to the wound.
The stall door opened, and Jayne came out, looking radiant, her hair twisted in a high bun that accentuated her eyes and cheekbones. She’d certainly pulled herself together.
They exchanged perfunctory hellos. Maisie checked her thumb and the towel. No blood. But she needed a moment to herself, to process everything that had happened, and soon Jayne would be gone.
Except… Jayne wasn’t leaving.
Maisie tossed her head back, trying to get her hair out of her face without using her hands. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” Jayne said.
“About law school. I’m just thinking about my future, and maybe I want to be a lawyer. Do you like it?”
Jayne huffed out a laugh. “That is not what I thought you were going to ask,” she said. “Most new employees want the story on Ethan’s face. But if you’d rather have career advice…”
She trailed off. It was clearly an invitation.
Oh, Maisie was tempted, but she thought about sour Mrs. Donahue tattling to Ethan—maybe he was again Mr. Brennbach to her.
“It’s not really any of my business,” she said.
That made Jayne laugh. “Either you’ve found out already, or you don’t appreciate a good piece of gossip. I’m guessing someone told you. I didn’t see it happen, but Ethan’s my hero. Very sexy. Um, in a platonic way, of course,” she added quickly.
Now it was killing Maisie. She had to literally bite her tongue to keep from blurting out, Please tell me, for fuck’s sake, tell me right now!
Jayne crossed her arms and leaned against the marble water basin. “Being a lawyer is great, but it’s a boys’ club. Look at this place. Three founding partners, all male.”
“Oh,” Maisie said. “They passed you over?”
“Well, not me. I’m only a third-year associate. But, I mean, come on. It’s not like when my father started his firm, and there weren’t many women. These guys surely know plenty of female lawyers, yet when they decided to start their firm, they made a good old boys’ club.”
Maisie guessed Jayne didn’t know about the whole dominating and gang-banging women aspect of their relationship. The partners clearly shared more than most men did.
“Are you thinking of quitting?” she asked.
“No,” Jayne said, almost sullenly. “I was this close today, though. It’s cutthroat getting cases here. I could spend my entire career doing prep work for hearings. You know, I don’t even blame the guys. They’ve been friends since high school, so I guess they get a pass. Mrs. Donahue is the problem. Ever since the incident, she’s untouchable. They let her run things however she pleases.”
“What incident?”
Jayne gave her a funny look. “She was next to Ethan when it happened. I would love to get her fired. She tries to get me taken off of everything. I’ve got five cases, Marnie. Five.”
“Maisie.” She wondered what would happen if Jayne figured out that Mrs. Donahue showed up to work drunk.
“Maisie. Sorry. Maisie.” She shook her head angrily. “There was a case that came in recently. Stupid—some guy ran a red light, somehow noticed the traffic cam as he was zooming past it, then went back and beat it into a million pieces with a hockey stick. The only reason he’s our client is because I saw it on the local news, and I suggested we represent him, pro bono, for exposure. Which Ethan backed me on. He complimented my ambition. The decent thing would have been to give me the client, r
ight?”
Maisie struggled but failed to keep her expression neutral. Jayne didn’t seem to notice.
“But did he do that? No. Raphael took it. Raphael is Mr. Lattimore,” she explained. “It doesn’t make sense. Why the hell does he even want it? But they’re such control freaks. The year I started, there were twenty other people with me, but only a handful of us are still here. So, right now? I wish I’d become a veterinarian. At least when you’ve got your arm buried to the shoulder in a cow’s ass, you don’t have to wonder why everything smells like shit.”
Maisie nodded and made sympathetic noises. “Frustrating.”
“Really, I’m sorry about getting your name wrong.” Her smile was genuine. “Thanks for letting me vent. It’s just that I expected this from Mrs. Donahue, but if the partners are freezing me out…” She shook her head. “Let me shut up. So, Maisie”—she emphasized the second syllable to prove that she’d gotten the name correct—“how about I take you to lunch sometime soon, and I can give you some useful advice?”
Maisie nodded.
Then Jayne was gone, leaving Maisie to stew in her own guilt.
12
Maisie kept looking at her cell phone, waiting for Trent or Raphael to call. In the hours since she’d arrived at the office, she had cleared a third of the folders off her desk, and so far, no new ones had been added.
No new paper cuts, either.
She opened the next folder, yawned, and ran her fingers through her hair.
The woman with the beehive hairdo walked by. She ignored Maisie as she headed for Mrs. Donahue’s desk.
Maisie was just about to get up to stretch her legs when Ethan glided out of the hallway. “I need you,” he said impatiently.
There wasn’t any secret meaning to his words, and not an ounce of tenderness in the way he’d said them. She’d lain awake in the strange hotel, thinking about all her bosses and Ethan in particular, wondering where he was and what he was doing. What his bedroom looked like. If he was thinking of her, too.
Obviously he hadn’t been… but that made her want him even more.
She forced herself to stand like a sane person and not jump to her feet like a lovelorn schoolgirl.
He’d walked off in the direction of the elevators, not his office. Confused, she glanced around and found that the beehive woman and Mrs. Donahue were both watching. Maisie closed the open folder on her desk, then hurried after him.
“You were with Davina all night, correct?” he asked as they stepped onto the elevator.
“Y-yes,” she said. She could smell his aftershave, and heat pulsed in her core.
“Did she go out?” He pushed the emergency stop button, and the elevator slid to a smooth halt.
Frowning, Maisie shook her head. “Definitely not. Why?”
“Mr. Ballystock was supposed to meet his brother for a racquetball game last night. His brother, the assistant chief of police.” His voice became tense. “I just got a call—it seems he’s already investigating. You’re her alibi.”
Coldness washed over Maisie, and her mouth went dry.
Ethan was staring into her eyes. He knew that she’d put it together. “You set me up,” she whispered.
He shook his head to dismiss that. “It was an accident.”
A little cry burst from her throat, and she took a step back. The hardness in Ethan’s eyes turned to surprise.
“Maisie, you don’t think…” He laughed uncomfortably. “He’s not dead. We were able to… persuade… him to leave town. We didn’t realize he’d try to disappear completely. But it looks bad. If something happens to him before the divorce is final, his wife inherits everything.”
“He’s alive?”
“We didn’t hurt him. I swear it.” He held her gaze. It seemed, she thought, that he felt it important for her to believe him.
And… she did. “Ok,” she said, and let out a trembling breath.
“Good.” He pushed the emergency button again, and the elevator resumed moving. When the doors slid open so more people could get on, he said coldly, “Get out.”
“What?”
His expression was like marble, and for once, both sides of his face matched. “Get out,” he said.
The two people who’d just gotten on the elevator looked nervously away, pretending not to hear. “I’m going to buy myself a cheese danish, and I don’t need you for that. Wait in my office.”
He flung out an arm to stop the door from closing. Head bowed, Maisie stepped out.
She turned to ask what she’d done wrong, to ask why he suddenly hated her so much, and discovered his gaze was locked on her. Was that a flicker of arousal in his gray eyes?
Wait in my office.
She smiled.
Twenty minutes later, she was still waiting. She timed it in her mind… taking the elevator to the lobby, going to the deli, waiting in line… He should have been back five minutes ago.
The door opened, and Maisie practically jumped to her feet. Her jacket, which she’d been holding on her lap, slipped to the floor.
Flustered, she dipped down to grab it.
When she looked up, she found herself staring at Ethan’s shocked assistant. “No one is allowed in here alone.”
Maisie felt her mouth open, but no words came out. “I…” she whispered.
“Stella, in fifteen minutes or so, could you give Mrs. Donahue a hand with collecting yesterday’s summaries from the other office?” Ethan handed her a small paper bag. “Blueberry,” he said, and his assistant beamed.
He closed the door after her.
Maisie twisted the jacket in her hands. Her heart was racing. Now that they were alone, Ethan seemed too large, too intimidating.
“Strip,” he said. “Everything except your shoes.”
He went to his desk and picked up the phone. “Stella,” he said. “Hold my calls. When Raphael and Trent get here, send them right in.”
He hung up. “You’re still dressed.” He leaned against the front of his desk and crossed his arms. “Strip, Maisie. Slowly.”
Giddy with relief, Maisie turned and dropped the jacket onto the sofa. She unzipped the dress and let it skim down her body, slowly uncovering her curves. When she glanced over at Ethan, she saw that his attention was fixed on the skin she’d just revealed.
Her ankle wobbled as she stepped out of the dress, and for a moment the heel of her shoe caught in the hem. Her pulse doubled while she gracelessly got everything under control, but she didn’t fall, and she didn’t punch a hole through the beautiful garment.
She couldn’t help looking at Ethan again once she was standing straight. He raised an eyebrow.
With a teasing smile, she ran her fingers over the exposed mounds of her breasts, then into the silky material of her bra. Her shoulders curled forward, and she slid a finger under one of the satiny bra straps.
“Stop there.” He whipped off his tie, the movement fluid.
She trembled as he approached her. Now that he was closer, the imperfections in his face were more difficult to ignore. The first chance she got, she planned to pump Jayne for information.
“Go ahead and stare,” he said.
“I wasn’t…” The heat of a blush scalded her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to…”
His arm snaked out and he caught her wrist. Slowly, eyes fastened on hers, he raised her hand and pressed her fingers against the right side of his face.
The skin was thicker there, denser. Her breath caught.
“I’m sorry,” she said, pushing the words through the lump in her throat. “I never meant to offend you.”
Something flared in his eyes, and if he hadn’t been holding her, she might have pulled away. “I wasn’t offended, but you have a lot to learn about tact.”
He released her.
She didn’t immediately lower her arm, but then he did it for her, catching her wrists together and forcing them to the small of her back.
The position lifted her breasts proudly into the air, and Etha
n had stepped closer to her. Even though they weren’t touching except in a few places, she could feel the heat of his body on the naked skin of her thighs and stomach.
Staring into his eyes felt dangerous. From what she’d observed, he was a man of logic, a linear thinker.
But what she felt? There was a volatility in him. Like now, a few seconds after letting her touch him, the coldness in his eyes was absolute. She didn’t like the way he could turn it on and off.
It made her afraid.
Tightening his grip on her wrists, he brought her toward him, pulling her into the solidity of his body and that addictive hardness. She ached to feel him inside her again. Because as much as he scared her, she didn’t want to stay away.
She didn’t think she could.
He turned them both, a quick dance step, then quickly released her hands and pinned her body to the wall with his. She trembled against him, her hips straining forward, wanting his cock.
“Your training begins now,” he said.
Then he wrapped his tie around her head, covering her eyes.
Her little whimper of surprise sounded especially loud now that she couldn’t see anything. But she could feel: Ethan’s rock-hard body, his warmth, the rush of her own breathing, the whisper of the ends of the silk tie as he secured the blindfold.
She heard the door open, and were those footsteps entering?
The door closed.
Then there was silence.
13
Time crawled.
Two minutes? Fifteen? She couldn’t tell, but she was getting dizzy. The blindfold wasn’t too tight, nothing like that, but all she could feel was the hard wall behind her, and Ethan in front.
If he moved away, she might fall over. It was like yesterday morning, with him holding her up.
She’d heard about sensory deprivation chambers, huge vats of dark water, and how people lost their minds in relatively short periods of time.
She heard herself gulp in air.
Rough hands grabbed her.
Legally Binding Page 7
