by Chloe Lane
Aside from a brief meet and greet with the partners during my first week, I haven't seen much of either of them. Which is not surprising, considering they own the firm and I'm a junior associate who's been here all of a month.
He gives me a reassuring smile and steps into the office. “I just came by to tell you that your work here is very much appreciated.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. I'd like to think of myself as the kind of person who doesn't need endless praise when it comes to job performance, but it's nice to hear it from someone as powerful as Mr. Pierce. “I'm so glad.”
“As you probably know, we paired you with Mr. Kane to even out some of his public image. Of course,” Mr. Pierce says these last two words quickly, “you are well-qualified for any entry level position at the firm, and above all you were hired on your merits.”
“Of course.”
Mr. Pierce clears his throat, like he's stumbled onto a topic of conversation that might take him in a difficult direction. He has come dangerously close to admitting that I was hired for my looks. Well, if that's what got me in the door, then fine. I'm still going to be a damn good lawyer.
And a damn good partner for Maxwell.
“I just wanted you to know that, in part because of your efforts, we've decided to offer Mr. Kane a full partnership in the firm. He'll be getting that news shortly, from my colleague.”
My heart sinks, but I put a big smile on my face. “That's wonderful news.” Wonderful for Maxwell. Not wonderful for me. Now that he's being promoted to the highest rungs of the firm’s ladder, I can't stay here and threaten his stability with every step I take. If I don't leave, sooner or later the truth is going to come out...and it will destroy him.
“Thanks for everything you've done.” Mr. Pierce moves toward the door. “Oh, and Ms. Mason—have Mrs. Johnson set up a meeting with me in the next couple of weeks. We should discuss your future here.”
I swallow hard, clasping my hands together in front of me to hide their trembling. “Absolutely.”
Then he's gone, back out the door, and I'm alone again.
With my heart still on the floor, I make my way back to my seat at my desk.
There's no time to waste.
If Maxwell is being offered partner right now, then I have to make my move. I don't want to give him any time to try to convince me that I should stay at the firm. Even if he moves to another office on another floor, it will be impossible to keep this a secret for long—especially because the cat is already out of the bag. I blush again just thinking of how stupid I was this morning. Mrs. Johnson saw me kiss him on the cheek, and there's no way she's going to believe that it was some innocent peck between two colleagues. Not in this day and age.
I know what I have to do.
I finish the paperwork, making sure everything is ready for Monday. For whoever is here on Monday. It's probably not good form to offer no notice, but it's better than giving Mrs. Johnson another two weeks to break the news to the partners and ruin things for Maxwell. I can always start over somewhere else.
Even if that means moving to another city.
Would we be able to do long-distance?
We'd have to be.
But maybe that would be too much for Maxwell. He's made a lot of promises, but I wouldn't blame him if he couldn't forgive me for what I'm about to do.
I take a deep breath, tucking the last of the folders in their places, straightening the supplies on my desk. I'll leave all of it here, taking only my purse, and I'll be gone before he gets back from his meeting with Mr. Harwood. I bet Mr. Pierce is joining them now.
The last thing I do requires me to type something up, so I switch on my computer monitor and open a new document. I type the date at the top, then begin.
* * *
To Mr. Pierce and Mr. Harwood,
It is with great appreciation and great regret that I submit this formal letter of resignation to you, effective today.
* * *
The tears well up in my eyes as I type out the short letter, then hit print. The printer in Maxwell's office hums to life, and when it's finished its job, I gather up my purse, scrawl my signature at the bottom of the letter, and tuck it into an envelope printed with Pierce & Harwood letterhead.
All I have to do now is deliver it.
30
Maxwell
“I'm sorry, Mr. Pierce. Mr. Harwood.” I look to one man, then the other, and their shocked expressions tell me when what I'm saying finally sinks in.
“What?” Harwood is the first to react aloud. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Pierce shaking his head. This is not how they expected this meeting to go. It's not how I ever imagined it proceeding, either. For one thing, a month ago they warned me that I was inches away from being fired. Now I'm turning down the offer of becoming a full partner.
“I can't begin to express how thankful I am for the opportunity you gave me here. You offered me a chance when I was untested and green, and I've been able to build a career out of it. I owe you.” I give Harwood a pointed look. “Both of you.”
“What are you saying, Maxwell?” Pierce narrows his eyes at me.
“I'm leaving the firm to start my own.” Before they can object, I raise both my hands in front of me. “And no, I'm not intending to compete with you for your business. I have an office lined up in Springfield.” Springfield is a bustling town forty minutes away. With the kinds of cases that Pierce & Harwood have been handling, there won't be potential for overlap. It's a perfect place to establish myself as a man in charge of every aspect of life.
It's also a charming place with highly rated schools, fewer rundown buildings than the city, and a brand new playground two blocks from the offices I sweet-talked my way into renting just this afternoon.
In other words, it's the perfect place to start a family. And that's what I intend to do with Emma, just as soon as I can marry her.
Pierce widens his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “Are you sure this is the best decision?” I know what he means. Starting my own firm isn't going to come with the cushy benefits of a full partnership at Pierce & Harwood. It's going to be hard work.
I give him a confident smile. “I think we all know that this is ultimately going to be the best for all parties involved.”
“Well,” Harwood says, standing up and extending his hands. “We wish you the best of luck, Maxwell.” He pauses, like he wants to say something else—about my behavior while I've been with the firm, I can practically guarantee—but he steps aside for Pierce to shake my hand.
“If you'll excuse me,” I tell them, after we've sketched out a basic plan for my departure, effective next week, “I have a meeting I can't miss.”
I can feel their eyes on me as I leave, but my chest is warm and light.
This might be a tougher climb to the top, but I'm finally my own man.
And Emma is waiting.
* * *
It turns out that Emma is not waiting. She's not in the office, and her purse is gone. Her desk seems too perfectly arranged, and it sets me on edge. Where the hell did she go?
I get my own things together, shoving my phone into my pocket and grabbing my keys, and then I'm taking the stairs two at a time down to the first floor, not bothering to wait for the elevator. I'm hustling toward the main entrance when I hear her voice.
“Thanks, Mrs. Johnson. I just wanted to give you—” She pauses, takes a deep breath, and something in my gut screams at me to interrupt her.
“Emma?” I call out, just as I reach the doorway to Mrs. Johnson's office. The older woman stiffens, looking at me with a piercing glare. “There you are.”
“Maxwell.” There's an unbearably sad look in Emma's eyes. Did Mrs. Johnson already say something to her?
“I have some news.” I step into the office and move to Emma's side in front of Mrs. Johnson's desk. “I was going to tell you upstairs, but—” I give a shrug like it doesn't matter, grinning at Mrs. Johnson first, then at Emma. “I'll just tell you now. I'm leaving the fi
rm.”
Emma gasps, and Mrs. Johnson sits back in her seat. “But Maxwell—you can't—”
“I can, and I'm going to. It's time for me to move on. I've set up offices in Springfield, and I'm going to launch in a couple of weeks.” I laugh jovially. “It's going to be a lot of work, but I'm looking forward to the challenge.”
Understanding is dawning in Emma's eyes, and all the worry melts away. “Wow,” she says, softly. “Wow. That's—” She shakes her head a little. “Congratulations, Maxwell.”
I step back. “I'm sorry to interrupt whatever conversation you were having.” I glance meaningfully down at the envelope in her hands, which can only be a letter of resignation. “Mr. Pierce mentioned that you should set up a meeting with him in the next couple of weeks. Looks like you're going places, Emma Mason.” I give them both a crisp nod. “I'm on my way, then.”
As I move back into the hallway, I hear Emma's voice ring out, with a newfound confidence. “Mrs. Johnson, yes, I need to set up that meeting. When is Mr. Pierce's next available slot? Or should I go directly to his personal secretary? He sent me to you, so I'm imagining he wants it to be coordinated—”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Emma's footsteps echo up the stairwell in the parking ramp, and then she bursts into view, her hair tousled from the summer breeze, a brilliant grin illuminating her face.
“What did you do?” she shrieks, the joy in her voice loud against the concrete acoustics of the ramp.
I gather her into my arms. “You were more important than the partnership. Listen.” I kiss the top of her head, then her cheek. “My new offices are only forty minutes away. You can stay here, work your way up in the firm, and we can live there, where our private life will stay private. As long as you don't mind a little commute.”
“But Mrs. Johnson—”
“Mrs. Johnson saw one peck on the cheek. And with me out of the picture, she'll have no reason to say anything. I'd bet you a hundred dollars that she views me as the problem. So just butter her up a little bit and focus on your work. You'll probably be a partner here in no time.”
She beams up at me. “That sounds like the perfect plan. If you're sure that—”
I quiet her with a kiss. “There's nothing I've ever wanted more than you.”
She looks up into my eyes, then grins. “Let's go home, Mr. Kane.”
Epilogue
Emma
It takes a little longer than a couple of weeks to set up Maxwell's new offices, but every day after work is a new adventure. We scour the city of Springfield for a house that he insists is ours, not just his. We find the ideal home as July turns to August. Two stories, with light, airy bedrooms upstairs and a big kitchen and living room downstairs. The basement was finished by the previous occupants, so there's room for anything you could dream of. An exercise room—or, as Maxwell suggests with a devilish look in his eyes, a playroom.
It's toward the end of August when I come to Springfield after work with him. He picks me up at Pierce & Harwood and drives me back, telling me all about the day's projects. It's a Friday, and next week, the Law Offices of Maxwell Kane are officially open for business.
“But first,” Maxwell says to me, a grin on his face, “I want to show you the finishing touches on the office.”
“We could just go home.” I'm tired in a way that I don't think I've ever been before. It's been a busy summer, packed full of house-hunting and more and more responsibility at Pierce & Harwood. After Maxwell left, they assigned me my own cases. Mr. Pierce has taken me under his wing, and I think Maxwell might be right—there's a good chance I could become partner there one day.
But today, the fatigue is settling in over my neck and shoulders.
Maxwell's eyes betray a little concern, but he looks determined. “It won't take long. I promise, kitten.”
He pulls into a spot right outside his new offices, which are smack dab in the middle of downtown Springfield. The outside of the building is sparkling with a fresh coat of white paint.
Maxwell holds out his arm and I take it, happy to be close to him when we go inside. The interior is gleaming, too, with every inch of the wood paneling polished to a shine. “Smells like a new...well, not a new car.”
He laughs. “A new start.”
He leads me back into the biggest offices—his office—and I gasp out loud.
His desk has been transformed into a dinner table for two, white linen and candles. “Maxwell, you shouldn't have.”
He pulls out the chair on the closer side of the desk. “Have a seat, kitten.”
I sit, and he moves around to sit across from me. From behind us, a uniformed waiter appears carrying a tray with two plates of steaming food. Maxwell reaches for something under his desk, and soft violin music begins to play.
“Are you opening a restaurant inside your firm?” I joke, but as the waiter slides the plates in front of us and pours us two glasses of wine, he looks at me with a depth in his gaze that makes my core go molten hot.
After the waiter has disappeared and left us alone, Maxwell reaches across the table and takes both of my hands in his. “Emma, I wanted you to come here because I have something important to ask you. Essential.”
My breath hitches in my throat, and a lump rises there that I have to swallow.
“I've been taken with you since the moment I first saw you, and I don't want to live another day without you by my side. I need you with me for the rest of my life.”
Maxwell releases my hands, stands up, and comes around next to my chair. “Nothing—nothing—would make me happier than for you to agree to be my wife.” He slips a small velvet box from his pocket and drops down on one knee, opening the box as he does. An enormous diamond glitters there on a delicate band. “Will you marry me, Emma Mason?”
“Yes!” I cry, throwing my arms around his neck, tears slipping down my cheeks. “And—and Maxwell?”
“What is it, kitten?” He's holding me tight, and I have to press against him a little to look into his eyes.
“I think the timing might be perfect.”
He cocks his head to the side. “I think so too, but why—”
“I haven't taken a test yet, but—” The way I've been feeling for the past few weeks flashes into my mind. It's not just that I've been tired—I've been unbelievably tired, and feeling strange, and when was my last period, anyway? “I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant, Maxwell.”
His mouth drops open, and then he kisses me, passion mixing with tenderness and flooding my soul with absolute joy. When he pulls back, there's a sheen of tears misting the corners of his eyes. “I love you so much.”
“I love you.” Then I swallow hard and ask the question that’s thundering through my mind. “Are you happy?” I whisper.
“Over the moon, kitten. Over the moon.”
Want more from Chloe Lane?
Senator Scandal
About Chloe Lane
Chloe Lane is a shy mom from the midwest who just wants to have fun…and write filthy stories about dominant alpha men who are excellent in bed and the gorgeous, witty women who entrance them. Be prepared for sexy, over-the-top stories where dirty fantasies are the name of the game and there’s always a happily ever after.
chloelanewrites.com
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© 2017 Chloe Lane, All Rights Reserved
* * *
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All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older, and all acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.
