by Anne Jolin
I tap my foot in irritation. “Well. What’ll it be, Disney princess?” I snap.
He scowls at me but doesn’t answer.
Taking that to mean he still intends to fire me, I turn on my heel. “Whatever. It’s your skeleton coming out of the closet, not mine.”
“Wait.” He grabs me by the elbow. I work hard to ignore the shock his touch sends through my body and look over my shoulder at him expectantly. “You have a deal, but if you tell a single soul about what I do with my own time at night, I’ll fire you without a moment’s hesitation. No severance. Is that clear?”
I yank my elbow from the light hold he has on it. “Crystal fucking clear.” Stalking towards the exit of the room, I flick the switch to clear the glass and open the door.
“Beth?” he says from behind me, his voice still low but less angry.
“Yes, Mr. Bennett,” I sing sarcastically.
“I’m not, you know.”
I spin from my position in the open doorway to look at him. He looks tortured. “You’re not what?”
“I’m not a decent human being. Not even in the slightest,” he whispers seriously.
Choosing to ignore his statement, I spin around, shutting the door behind me, and plunk down into my desk chair. Then I force myself not to look at him through the glass behind me.
Cinderella is Braxton Bennett. Braxton Bennett is my boss. My boss hates me.
Well, fuck me. This is going to be rough.
ND: Everything okay?
Upon seeing the IM pop up on my desk, I look over at Nikki. She smiles weakly and shakes her head. I roll my eyes dramatically, huffing as I type out my response.
BR: Peachy. He’s positively delightful.
When I hear a soft giggle from across the room, I wink at her. Braxton might be a complete asshat, but I already adore everyone else.
After minimizing the IM screen, I search my desk and wince. I was supposed to get further direction from my boss when he finally strolled his fine ass in here. But I’d been too busy fighting to keep the goddamn job that I’d forgotten to even ask him what exactly that entailed. Hmm… Do I go back into the dragons den? Or wait for him to come to me?
I’ve always taken my work seriously. This might not be where I want to be forever, but I’ll be damned if that man is going to make me act childish and unprofessional. Standing up, I begin to smooth out my skirt with the telephone rings. Double shit! No one told me what I’m supposed to say. Can’t be that hard, right?
Picking up the receiver, I opt for what seems like the safest route. “Bennett and Blake Law. Braxton Bennett’s office. How may I help you?” Jesus. That’s a mouthful.
“Two rings means it’s an intra-office call,” a familiar grumpy voice states through the phone.
I look over my shoulder to see him sitting at his mammoth desk. He’s spun the chair around to face the outside window. He doesn’t have a receiver in his hand, so my best guess is that he has me on speaker phone.
“Duly noted,” I answer him flatly. I’m afraid that, if I let any emotion into my voice, we’ll have another showdown—and I’m still recovering from the first one. “Will that be all, Mr. Bennett?”
“No.” His voice is cool and even now. The cap he seems to have blown minutes ago is now firmly back in place. “There’s a blue Mazda parked in my space downstairs. Find out who it belongs to and have it towed.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh and sit back down. I knew that stupid parking spot was too good to be true. “It’s mine.”
“What?”
“The blue Mazda. It’s mine.” If I could bang my head on the desk without drawing too much attention, I would. This day has gone to hell in a hand basket and I haven’t even finished my coffee.
Hearing a click and then the dial tone, I pull the receiver away from my ear to glare at it. Manners much? Good god. Slamming it back down into its cradle, I feel a shiver creep up my spine.
Muscular arms brace the desk on either side of me from behind, effectively trapping me in my seat. Shutting my eyes tight, I try to focus on my breathing. When I mentioned earlier that my boss hates me? I also forgot to mention that I’m still insanely attracted to him. Apparently, my body doesn’t care if he’s Cinderella the white knight or Mr. Bennett the jackass.
“Is there a reason you parked in my space?” he speculates.
Shuddering at his proximity, I curse my traitorous body. “No, Mr. Bennett. I was running late. I apologize. I didn’t realize it was assigned,” I clip out snottily. So much for not being childish.
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t back away either. Opening my eyes, I study the cuff of his right hand, where a few inches of his tattoo are peeking out. His hands are massive and rough. I imagine bare-knuckle boxing would do that to them. How does he hide it? My mind wanders dangerously.
“Are you lying, Beth?”
Lacing my spine with some much-needed steel, I steady my voice. “No. I’m not lying.”
“Very well,” he concludes, standing up. I instantly miss the warmth from his body and then chide myself for feeling that way. “You can leave it there for the day.”
I spin in my chair so I can see his face. “Are you sure? I can move it.”
“Everything that comes out of my mouth is deliberate. I mean everything I say,” he states. If I were a lesser woman, I’d have cowered at him. He’s exceptionally intimidating.
Uhm. Okay then. “Is there anything in particular you’d like me to do today?”
“See Marie in the paralegal department. I have a case coming up and will need to compile information on the list of potential jurors. Marie has prepared the legal aspect. I will need you to organize…”
Sometime during his speech, my eyes wander down over his broad chest and the way it looks mouthwateringly draped in his expensive suit. Moving lower, I subconsciously lick my lips at the bulge in his slacks. Holy mother of…
“Do you like what you see?”
My eyes fly up his body. He’s staring at me, one eyebrow cocked, and he almost-but-not-quite looks like he’s smiling. “I, uhm…” Pausing to clear my throat, I continue. “Yes. Marie. Paralegal. Prospective jurors. Got it.” I smile broadly with a fake confidence.
Pursing his lips together, he challenges me. “For which case?”
Motherfucker. I scan my brain but come up empty. All I can see is that stupid, sexy suit and pant bulge. Beth down under is really fucking with my mental capacity today.
“I’m sorry. I missed that.” Righting my posture, I pick up a pen and paper. “Which case are the files regarding?”
“Katie Townstead versus The City of Vancouver and The Vancouver Police Department.”
I jot down the specifics and nod.
“I have to be in court at one, but this should take you most of the day to put together.” He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he retreats to his office, shutting the door.
Giving my head a little shake, I stand to make my way to the paralegal department. It doesn’t take me long to locate Marie. She’s a sweet, older Pilipino woman, and she has everything ready to go.
Braxton wasn’t kidding when he said that it would take me all day to put this together. He failed to mention that I was putting sheets together for five hundred potential jurors though. It has taken me three trips just to carry all the files back to my desk. I really need to watch more Suits if I’m going to work here. Gabriel Macht wouldn’t be a terrible way to learn the ropes of the law.
I’ve barely made it through the first one hundred files when a small shadow lands across my desk. Looking up, I see a smirking Nikki hovering over me.
“Ready for lunch?” She smiles knowingly.
Glancing at the clock, I can’t believe it’s already noon. The morning flew by so fast that I haven’t even had a chance to mentally replay my initial meet and greet with Cinderella.
Grabbing my purse from the bottom drawer, I wink at her. “Heck yeah I am.” I poke my head in to let Braxton know that I
’m going for lunch, but his back is turned to me and he’s talking on the phone. “Should I…?” I trail off, looking at Nikki for clarification.
“Nah. I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s a workaholic anyway. I doubt he’ll even notice you’re gone. Unless, of course, he wants to yell at you again.” She smirks.
I cock an eyebrow at her as we start to walk.
“You might be able to frost the glass, but you can’t soundproof the room,” she says matter-of-factly.
My cheeks burn red at the thought of everyone having heard our argument. Nikki must see the panic in my face because she quickly corrects herself.
“I mean, you can’t tell what’s being said, but you can hear that there are raised voices.” She slowly shakes her head when I visibly relax at her statement. “Is it that bad already?”
“You have no idea,” I tell her, pressing the button in the elevator for the lobby floor.
We descend quickly, and the doors open out to a charcoal marble lobby floor. It’s equally as stunning as the rest of the building. Nikki informs me of a brilliant restaurant in Gas Town that has “smack-your-momma good” mac and cheese with bacon bits. It’s not that hard to convince me on the choice of food, although I am skeptical on whether anything can be as good as my dad’s code yellow (a.k.a. mac and cheese). After hailing a cab to avoid walking in the hot sun, we arrive minutes later at the Chill Winston.
“Miss Drake,” the hostess coos. “For two today?”
When I eye my coworker with a raised blond eyebrow, she shrugs her shoulders before we begin to follow the pretty redhead to our table. It’s not hard to recognize that we’ve been seated at quite possibly the best table in the entire restaurant, which only serves to further pique my interest. After handing us the menus and taking our drink orders, the hostess retreats, promising us that our server will be right over.
“So”—I purse my lips and lean back in my chair—“do you come here often then?” It’s a leading question. So what? I’m nosy.
Running her hands through her thick, brown hair, she sighs. “No. Well, sort of. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” I gesture over the patio with my hand. “We have the best table in the restaurant. Are you a rich socialite hiding within the law firm?” I tease her.
She winces at my choice of words but recovers quickly. “No. It’s Mr. Blake.”
“Conrad?” I question, looking over the menu.
We’re interrupted by a waiter returning with two diet Cokes. Once she’s taken a healthy gulp from hers, she clarifies.
“No, Ellis. When I first started working at the firm, I was new to the city and he overheard my confession to Carol about my love of mac and cheese. He’s had a standing reservation for me here every Monday since.”
“Well, shit. That’s bloody cute.”
Nikki’s cheeks go crimson as she covers her face with her hands. “I keep telling him it’s unnecessary, but he won’t hear of it. I feel so guilty letting the reservation go to waste, so every Monday, this is where I eat.”
“Are you guys a—” I start to ask when she cuts me off, waving a hand in front of her face.
“No. No. No. Absolutely not. He’s my boss. It’s too complicated.”
Don’t I know it.
We both order the mac and cheese while moving on to safer lunch topics. I quickly learn that she is a year younger than I am—twenty-six—and just moved here a little over a year ago with her six-year-old son, Luke. The reason behind it seems to be a sore subject, so I choose to ignore it given that I just met her today. I, in turn, fill her in on my business background and how I ended up working here. Intentionally, I leave out the reason behind my extended unemployment—Kyle—and my intimate knowledge of my boss’s after-hours activities. A deal’s a deal right?
Nikki was right. The food was amazing. I’m stuffed—and relaxed from the easy conversation—by the time we return to our desks for the rest of the day.
Dropping my purse in the drawer and kicking it closed with my heel, I look up to find Ellis leaning against the front of my desk.
“How’s your first day goin’, toots?” he quips, his boyish grin stretched across his face.
Rolling my eyes, I stifle a laugh. “It’s going.”
“Did Nikki take you to the Chill for mac and cheese?” It’s not hard to see the affection on his face when he asks about her.
“She did. It was great. That’s very nice of you to do that for her.”
Waving me off with his hand like it’s no big deal, he continues. “How’s the big, bad bear treating you?”
I look over my shoulder into the office, noting that it’s empty, and shrug my shoulders. “He’s fine.”
“You’re not a great liar, darlin’,” Ellis teases. “You might want to work on that in this office full of deceptive creatures.” He shudders in mock fear and I find myself laughing again. “Especially your boss, toots. He’s as good as they come.”
Stealing another peek at his empty office, I just can’t imagine him as lawyer. This lethal brawler being on the right side of the law is baffling enough, but acknowledging him as a master in the craft is almost too much to wrap my head around.
“Hmm,” I murmur absentmindedly. “I guess I have to see it to believe it.”
Reaching out his hand, Ellis turns my chin to look him in the eyes. The playfulness in his demeanor is replaced by a stern, businesslike quality. “There’s a brilliance in the art of deception, sweetheart. A semblance of wickedness is required to wield the sword of trickery. And that man right there?” He nods towards the office behind me. “Well, he could deceive the devil himself.”
WELL, FUCK ME sideways.
“You get me, toots?” Ellis asks. The playfulness I’ve come to enjoy from him in the short time I’ve known him is back and his hand still under my chin.
“He’s that good?” I question, still soaking in his statement.
The more I think about my boss’s dual lives, the more I wonder how much Ellis really knows about him. A master of deception? Perhaps the shoe does fit.
“He’s that good, love.” The junior partner smiles at me. “He’s lethal, just like his—”
“Ellis,” a deep voice warns.
Turning my head, I see Braxton standing a few feet from the desk. His jaw is clenched and the ever-present scowl looks strained on his beautiful face. His glare narrows in on where Ellis is touching my face and he growls. The bastard actually fucking growled.
“She has work to do,” he declares coldly.
Ellis drops his hand, smirking. “If you need anything, I’m just across the hall, toots.” He winks before strutting back to his office.
I spin to look at Braxton again, but all I catch is the back of his suit jacket as he stalks into his office. The door slams shut and the frosted glass clouds the walls.
Checking my watch, I note that it’s one o’clock on the dot. As much as I don’t want to interrupt him, I also need to do my job. He said that he had to leave for court at one. So after knocking on his door twice, I turn the handle, somewhat surprised to find it unlocked, and enter the large office. I scan the room and find him sitting on the black, leather couch. His elbows are resting on his knees, his head between his legs, and I can hear the sounds of him sucking in long, calming breaths.
“Uhm. Braxt... I mean Mr. Bennett, it’s one o’clock. I just wanted to remind you that it’s time to leave for court,” I mumble out. Something about the way he’s sitting caught me off guard.
Lifting his head from between his knees and running a hand through his black hair, he blinks his eyes shut. “I just need a minute longer and then I’ll be ready.”
I seem to be frozen in place, completely captivated by him. I’ve been equal parts terrified and lustful over this man during both of our encounters, but this is something else. It’s a weakness.
He must have noticed that I haven’t moved, because his grey eyes lift to find me. There’s a full-fledged war going on behind his stare. Th
e wildness there looks like he could come unhinged at any moment, while the rational part begs to be heard.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” he tells me again.
This time, I nod silently before closing the door behind me.
I’ve wanted to shank him, I’ve wanted to maul him, and I’ve wanted to run from him. But that was the first time I’ve ever wanted to hug him. The fear, loathing, and lust were manageable. This feeling was entirely all too consuming.
Less than five minutes later, he reappears from the now-translucent walls. His tie is back in place and his grey pools have returned to the calm before the storm. Although he still looks elegantly disheveled, he seems more in control of himself now.
“I’ll be out for the rest of the day. You won’t get through those today,” he says, nodding towards the stack of files on my desk. “Do as much as you can, but you don’t need to stay late.”
I can’t seem to find my words, so I nod instead.
He only gets a mere three feet away before he stops and faces me again. “Beth?”
“Yes, Mr. Bennett.”
He winces. “It’s Braxton. Mr. Bennett was my father,” he corrects me, a painful look darkening his features.
“Oh,” I answer dumbly, caught off guard by the unexpected vulnerability in his voice. “Was there something else, Braxton…?” I trail off.
He takes two long strides, coming up beside me and leaning over to place his face a few inches from mine. “If you’re scared of being in the garage alone, you can park in my spot for the time being. Okay?”
Pressing my eyes shut, I feel weak. Truth be told, my being afraid had nothing to do with parking so close to the elevator. It was simply a fluke of my running late. But the fact that he knows so vividly what I allowed someone to do to me makes me feel pathetic.
Two rough fingers slide under my chin, tilting it upwards. “Look at me, babe.”
I swallow hard, but the tenderness in his tone has me doing as I’ve been told.
