I fall into step with him, remembering his comment about enduring tonight because of me. “I take it you don’t like these kinds of events.”
“You take it right,” he confirms as we turn into the main hall between the elevators. “I’d rather be working a case or in a courtroom.”
The elevator dings and a male voice calls out, “Cole Brooks, you son-of-a-bitch.”
Cole stops walking and we turn together to find Cat’s brother, Gabe, who I’ve met a few times before, exiting the elevator. “Who’s the son-of-a-bitch?” Cole challenges, moving forward to shake Gabe’s hand. “You look like shit, man.”
I almost laugh at this comment because Gabe is really not a man that looks like shit, considering he’s tall, with sandy blond hair, and a hard body in a fitted suit, but he does appear a bit wearier than usual. “Thanks for pointing that out, you bastard,” Gabe replies. “I’m in the middle of trial prep for a bitch of a case.” Gabe shifts his attention to me. “I heard they stuck you with Cole. And after consulting on a case with him recently, I have to ask: Has he made you as miserable as he made me yet?”
I have a flash of me on the desk, head thrown back and moaning that has me clearing my throat and saying, “Extremely miserable,” and I’m pretty sure I blush when I say it, but if Gabe notices, he doesn’t comment.
“Stay close to me tonight,” he suggests instead. “I’ll keep you away from the Brooks insanity.”
“This man,” Cole chimes in, glancing at me, “is the real manwhore.”
Gabe hold up his hands. “I am not a manwhore and I have never tried to pick up Lori.” Which is not true. He actually has. “Well, not that my sister knew about,” he adds, laughing. “Cat would kill me, literally.”
“And I’d represent her when she’d done the job,” Cole promises, not even trying to hide his meaning.
“Message received,” Gabe says. “And on that note. Where’s the booze?”
Cole motions Gabe forward. “Drink and be merry.”
“I plan to,” Gabe says, disappearing through the doors.
“Great attorney and friend,” Cole says, as we move toward the doors ourselves, “but he really is the manwhore.” He glances over at me. “Who I want nowhere near you.”
The possessiveness in his tone, in his eyes, does funny things to my belly. “And you’re not?” I challenge.
“Sweetheart, I haven’t touched a woman since you.”
I’m stunned, and pleased, and confused by this confession. “You haven’t?”
“No. I’ve been obsessed with you and I still am.”
“Isn’t obsession bad?”
“Feels pretty damn good to me.”
He doesn’t give me time to react to that statement. He opens the doors to allow my entry into the party, and I have this impression that’s by intent. He wants me to think about those words the entire night and I will.
I enter the party to find the massive open space clustered with people, standing tables, and random displays of food for the taking. I’ve barely had time to survey it all before Cole is by my side, and Reese is motioning us toward a group of people.
“Here we go,” Cole says, the two of us crossing to join Reese, who wastes no time involving us with the guests.
“Meet Jared Moore,” he says, of a short, stocky man next to him who is apparently the CEO of a large company battling a variety of legal woes created by the ex-CFO, details I know simply because Cat wrote an article about the man.
“I hear you’re the man to hire,” Jared says to Cole, which I’m certain will become a theme for the night.
“Only when I’m sold on the case,” Cole says, motioning to me. “Meet Lori Havens, a rising star who will be second chair on my upcoming cases, whatever they may be.”
Cole says those words without hesitation, confident enough to praise me, to share the spotlight with, rather than consuming it all alone, where I have known men who would, my ex for instance. It matters to me, just like his claim to seeing no other woman since me, matters. I think he might matter to me, beyond sex and fantasies but it’s a thought I shove away out of necessity and conversation.
From our CEO introduction, we move on to meet lawyers, doctors, executives, several retired and active ADAs, judges, reporters, and the list goes on. In between each, Cole treats me like his student, asking me to assess each person. Asking my opinion of their character, and he listens with genuine interest. We debate several topics, and I find that I am enjoying the evening, taking in the people with Cole. I like our debates. I like to hear his opinions. He engages me, challenges me, interests me beyond all the reasons I already have to be interested.
We’re about an hour into the event and Cole is in deep debate with another attorney over a judge’s ruling that I really want to hear about when Cat calls my name. I glance up and my heart falls to my feet when I spy the familiar, tall, good-looking man in a blue suit who’s standing with her: my ex. My asshole of an ex is here.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Lori
Since there is no way around a confrontation with my ex, I just go toward it, and silently step away from Cole. Quickly walking toward my newly minted problem, with my ex watching my every step, Cat greets my arrival excitedly. “I had no idea you knew Lance,” Cat says. “He just told me you go way back.”
“We do,” I say, my voice as cold as he makes me feel. “Lance,” I greet, meeting his green eyes to ensure that he knows that I am not pleased to see him. In fact, aside from the early few months with him, when his New York Times bestseller status and knowledge of the law had enchanted me, I don’t remember many times I was pleased to see him.
“Glad to find you back in the saddle,” he says, and for a smart man, with intelligence brimming from his green eyes, he’s too stupid to know how stupid those words are. “I thought you might just quit.”
“Why are you here?” I ask, my tone bitingly non-cordial.
Cat chokes on her champagne. “I’ve never known Lori to quit anything.” She looks between us. “Oh wow. You two know each other as in know each other, right?”
“Unfortunately,” I say, glancing at her. “Yes.” And at the same moment that I say again, “Why are you here, Lance?” Cole steps to my side.
“Apparently, I’ve missed something interesting,” Cole says dryly, looking at Lance. “Who are you and why should I care?”
It’s a hard and rude address, and the unshakable Lance Woodman all but physically jolts with the impact. The way I’d jolted when, among other things, he’d called me not just a fool, but a stupid fool, for quitting school. “I’m a guest of Cat’s,” Lance replies.
“He’s a fellow attorney and author who wants to collaborate and I thought we could talk here,” Cat offers. “I didn’t know he and Lori knew each other until now.”
“You might have read a few of my books,” Lance suggests, listing off a few titles, and offering his hand to Cole. “Lance Woodman.”
Cole ignores his hand. “How do you know Lori?”
“We’re old friends,” he says, lowering his hand and glancing at me. “Can we talk?”
“I’m working,” I say, aware of the crackle of sharp energy spiking off Cole.
“Come with me, Lori,” Cole orders, and I happily accept the command.
He steps back and I join him and we start walking. “He’s the ex you told me about the night we met. The older man you were infatuated with?”
“Yes,” I say, “but I wasn’t infatuated.”
He stops by a vacant standing table and we turn to face each other. “You said that you were infatuated by him.”
It’s at that moment that a man in his mid-forties, with dark hair speckled with gray, joins us and we turn to face him. “Cole Brooks,” he says. “I’m Nash Burns.”
“As in the expert pathologist who keeps turning me down?” Cole asks.
He laughs. “Not by choice. To this point, you’ve asked for my time when I’m booked solid.” He eyes me. “Is this your love
ly wife?”
I feel my heart sink to my feet. Cole and I haven’t touched but we’ve been in deep conversation and often. We have chemistry. We’re obvious, as Cat said. I mean, my God, we were just standing at this table alone, in deep, intimate conversation.
“This would be Ms. Lori Havens,” Cole replies, “a rising star in the legal field you’ll want to know and know well. A recipient of the Merrick scholarship, I’m mentoring her, and she’ll be working on my upcoming cases with me.”
Nash holds up his hands. “Apologies, Ms. Havens,” he says. “I assumed for all the wrong reasons. Perhaps, simply because you’re lovely and I thought him a lucky man to have you by his side all night. Please don’t hesitate to call me should you need my services.” He offers me his card and quickly departs.
“Do not read into that,” Cole says, facing me now, his voice low. “No one else in this room has seen beyond our working relationship.”
“Or they didn’t say it, and he did,” I say. “I need a minute to breathe,” I say, and start walking, weaving through the crowd until I’m standing at the coffee pots filling a cup. I don’t really want it. I just need to do something that gives me a moment alone to think. I’m with Cole. We can’t stay away from each other. I work here. These are the pieces of a puzzle I must fit together in a cohesive way, and I don’t know how.
Cole steps to my side. “Come with me,” he says again.
I set the cup down and turn to face him. “I don’t think it’s smart for us to walk out alone together.”
“That wasn’t a question, Lori,” he says, his voice tight, with an undertone of unmistakable anger. “This is me, your boss, telling you to come with me now.”
“We can’t walk out of this room alone together,” I repeat.
He narrows his eyes on me, his voice hardening, the whip of anger in his energy. “We can, and we will, because a) we have a client in need that comes before this party, and b) I’m your boss and that was a work directive, not a request. I’m going to take care of my client. You need to decide if my client is your client.” He turns and starts walking, expecting me to follow, or maybe he doesn’t.
I quickly step to his side, but I don’t speak. I was wrong in my reaction just now. I let personal feelings dictate my response, not business, and I could blame Lance’s appearance, but any excuse is unacceptable. I need to say that to him when we’re alone. “What are we doing?” I ask.
“Our jobs,” he says, motioning to Reese, who meets us at the door. “I have a high-profile client with law enforcement breathing down her throat. I’m going to my office to deal with it.”
“We’re winding down anyway,” Reese says. “I can handle this here. Let me know if you need me.”
Cole nods and opens the door, allowing me to exit first, and it’s only moments later that we step inside the elevator, where he punches the call button, but he doesn’t reach for me. He doesn’t look at me. He’s angry. I let the personal side of things affect my job. He said he would not be easy on me. I don’t want him to be easy on me. The doors shut and he sends a text message and by the time he’s done, we’re two floors up. The doors once again part and I step outside.
Still Cole doesn’t speak. We enter the main offices, and he flips on the lights. “My office,” he says, and that’s all. We walk together, side-by-side, and the silence continues. Finally, we are at his office, though I’m not even sure why this is a relief. It just is. He opens the door, flips on that light, and gives me room to enter. And I really don’t know what to expect next.
I step inside.
“Shut the door,” he orders, following me into the room, and crossing to his desk.
This time I do as I’m told without question. I shut the door and when I turn around, Cole is still standing, his fists pressed to the desk, clearly waiting on me. I cross the room, him watching my every step with those penetrating, unreadable blue eyes. I could sit, but I choose to stop between the two visitor’s chairs directly in front of him. And now, I’m waiting on him. Now, it’s his move.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Cole
Lori and I stand across from each other at my desk with no more than five minutes to spare before the line on my desk phone rings with a client update. I spent thirty seconds of that time staring at her, unfamiliar, barely contained anger, pulsing through me that may or may not have everything to do with her walking away from me at the party. Apparently, being called my wife after seeing her ex was disturbing enough that she forgot she was actually at the party to do a job. Or maybe it was the fucking orgasm I gave her right before she saw her ex.
“Do you love him?” I ask, because her answer defines how I move forward, how we move forward.
She blanches. “What?”
“Do you love him?”
“God no.” She steps forward and presses her hands on the desk, leaning in closer to me. “No, Cole. I do not, nor have I ever, loved Lance.”
“Then why do you hate him so much?”
“You just asked if I love him,” she counters.
“As the saying goes, there’s a fine line.”
“I never loved him. I was—”
“Infatuated,” I supply again.
“With his talent, which is far different from loving him. And it wore off even before I left him.”
“And yet you walked away from me in that room, and attempted to refuse to leave with me,” I counter.
“Not because of him. A man had just suggested I was your wife, which as your intern is a problem.”
“One in two hundred people we met together tonight suggested such a thing,” I say. “You overreacted.”
“You’re right,” she says. “I did. Had that man mistaken me for your wife any other time, I probably wouldn’t have reacted like I did, but Lance rattled me.”
“That pretty much tells me what I need to know.”
She pushes off the desk. “What does it tell you?”
“If you didn’t care about him, he couldn’t rattle you.”
“Then I guess I’m not as strong as you, Cole. Lance is a part of all the bad I left behind. When that man called me your wife, it scared me. I don’t want to end up working four jobs to survive the rest of my life.”
I straighten and fold my arms in front of me. I get why she’s afraid of losing her second chance, but I don’t like how much power Lance has over her.
“He is nothing to me,” she says, as if reading the questions in my mind, “and maybe I shouldn’t care this much that you believe me—I mean, we’re just having sex, right?—but I do.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because like everything else with you, I can’t seem to not do it. You’re like a drug, and it’s making me crazy.”
“Not crazy enough, apparently,” I say.
“No one has ever made me crazy like this, Cole. No one.”
My phone rings and I pick up the line. “This is Cole.”
“Did you miss me?” Ashley asks.
“Yes,” I say simply. “Why are you still taking my client calls from Paris?”
“Because I’m the contact everyone knew could get to you. And I still can.”
“Who’s the client?” I ask.
“Tara Knight.”
“Hold on,” I say. “I’m putting you on speaker with Lori Havens, my new—”
“Me?” she asks.
“No. She’s the future me.” I put Ashley on speaker. “Tell us about the case,” I order, folding my arms in front of my chest again, and looking at Lori, who is looking at me.
“Hi, Lori,” Ashley says.
“Hi, Ashley,” Lori replies.
“Tara Knight called me in a panic,” she says.
“As in the superstar actress?” Lori asks.
“Yes,” Ashley confirms. “Her. She’s the client. David Curry, the equally famous actor, is dead. He overdosed. The police think she gave him the drugs. She says she’s being setup because they hate her father, which we know is true, since Cole repre
sented her father in a securities fraud case, and got him off.”
“And several members of law enforcement fired,” I add for Lori’s benefit.
“She’s holding off the police,” Ashley says, “but she needs you, Cole. I already booked you a private jet. Normal airport and spot. It’s ready now.”
“Didn’t you quit?” Cole asks.
“About that. Can you pick up?”
I grab the line. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Yes. He’s a bastard. I want to come back. Do I have a job?”
“With a fucking raise,” I say. “When can you be here?”
“Two weeks? Can you make it that long?”
“We’ll make it work.”
“Good. Then I’ll book you a hotel room now. Do you need one for Lori?”
“Yes,” I say. “I do.”
“I’ll text you the details. There’s a car waiting on you in the parking garage to avoid party congestion at the front of the building.”
“You did all of this from Paris?”
“And I’ll be doing it from New York City soon. Later, boss.” She hangs up.
I set the receiver down and refocus on Lori. “We’ll go by your place and then mine on the way to the airport.”
“No,” Lori says instantly. “No, I need to—”
“Do your job,” I say, leaning on the desk again. “And with a chance to say you worked on a case this high profile.”
“I’m quite clear on the opportunity this represents,” she says. “I’m anxious to work the case. That’s not the problem.”
No, I think, Lance is the problem. “You’ll get your own room.” I grab a few files and stick them in my briefcase. “Grab whatever you need from the office and let’s go.” I round the desk. “Unless you’ve decided you can’t do the job, because this is the job, Lori.”
“I can and will do the job and do it well,” she says. “I told you. I’m with you. I’m staying, but I’ll meet you at the airport. That’s all I was going to say.”
“I’ll take you by your apartment.”
“I’ll meet you,” she insists. “My mother is perceptive. She’ll figure out there is something between us.”
Dirty Rich Cinderella Story Page 16
