I felt, rather than heard, him come up behind me. He slid his arms around my waist and my breath caught, feeling his form press against me. He was hard again, and I could feel him against my backside.
“I don’t want you off the case,” he said, his breath hot against my ear.
“No?” I asked, fighting for calmness and clarity. His roving hands made that hard to maintain.
“No,” he answered, rubbing himself against the fabric of my skirt.
“Oh,” I said, as his hand slid against my breast, the thin barriers of my shirt and bra doing nothing to protect me from the heat of his touch.
“Actually,” he said, running his hand down my stomach and beginning to hike up my skirt, “I want you on the case. I’ve reviewed the strategy papers and deposition questions you sent over, and I think they’re brilliant. Much better than Stephen would have done,” he said, inching the skirt up my thighs.
I frowned, forgetting my arousal for a moment. “You want me on the case, specifically?” I asked, my body stilling.
He kissed my neck as his hand found its destination under my skirt. “Yes. Not because of…this,” he said, sliding a finger inside my underwear, “but because I think you’ll do a good job.”
I remembered the night before, when I thought he was going to destroy my ego. So much for that. His words pumped me in a way he couldn’t begin to comprehend – especially since Stephen had pretty much admitted that he was giving me the case because there was nobody else to take it.
“Hell, yeah, I’ll do a good job,” I said, sinking back into his broad chest. I may not have known if our relationship was ever going to progress past good sex, but I knew he at least respected me professionally. At the moment, I would take it.
“Yeah, you’ll do a good job,” he repeated, pushing on my hip with his free hand and turning me to face him. “Now, let me do a good job,” he said, huskily, and licked his lips, pushing my panties back down.
I had just put them back on, but who cared? I spread my legs as he sank down to kneel in front of me, grabbing my ass, pulling my crotch towards his mouth.
8. Closing Statements
The rest of the weekend passed slowly. I left Alex on Saturday morning and went home, deciding to go for a run before showering. My ankle was still sore, but I suffered through a few miles. Between my legs was even more sore, but that was a sweet, enjoyable kind of pain that I didn’t mind at all.
He hadn’t made any promises to call me, and I hadn’t pressed him. The less I expected from him, I figured, the better off I would be. His rejection from our first night together still stung a little, even though he’d apologized. I didn’t want to put myself through that again.
After my run, I worked on some more case documents until I couldn’t stand to look at my laptop any more. I kept fighting the urge to call Alex, and at one point I even picked up my phone.
Instead, I called Stan.
I asked him about one of his clients, a hip-hop star who thought he was invincible and tended to trash hotel rooms just because he could. Usually Stan managed to sweep the problems under the rug, but one pissed-off hotel chain had stood firm and brought vandalism and robbery charges against the guy.
“How’s the Saville case going?” I asked, after we’d discussed the weather and if either of us had heard from our deadbeat father.
“Eh, that guy’s a fucking loose cannon,” Stan retorted. “I ain’t got patience for his shit anymore,” he complained. “I may have to drop him.”
“But he’s rich,” I said. “And he guarantees you future employment,” I joked. “Plus, I keep asking you to introduce us. You know I like his albums.”
“Girl, it’s guys like Saville I’ve been working my whole life to keep you away from,” he shot at me. “I would rather cut off my big toe than see the two of you in a room together. He’d go to work on you faster than you can say ‘Kayne West is an egomaniac.’”
“Don’t start on Kanye,” I warned. “You know this is one place you and I will never agree.”
Stan chuckled. “Speaking of losers,” he said, “you’ve stayed away from that rich white asshole, right?”
I didn’t respond right away, and my silence spoke volumes.
“Dammit, Tiff! What did I tell you?” Stan practically hollered over the line.
“You don’t need to protect me, big bro. I know what I’m doing,” I yelled back.
“I beg to differ,” Stan said. “With men, you never know what you’re doing.”
“I resent that!” I protested. “You have no faith in me. I can handle myself. I have to go,” I said, kicking myself for calling him in the first place.
“Tiffany,” he started, but I interrupted him.
“Bye, Stan, keep Saville out of trouble, and stay out of my love life,” I said forcefully into the phone, and stabbed the “End Call” icon on the screen.
I sat on my couch, legs folded under me, still feeling a wonderful soreness between my legs.
The problem was, Stan was right. I didn’t really know what I was doing. But I’d just pretend that I did and hope for the best.
***
I resisted the urge to call, and I didn’t hear from Alex again before the deposition, scheduled for Tuesday morning. I was a little panicky by then. I kept telling myself over and over that I was okay if our relationship was just physical, that I could survive if Alex didn’t want any more than that.
I was trying to convince myself.
At 9:30, I headed to the same conference room where I had first met Alex, where the deposition was scheduled to be held at 10:00. I always liked to get to formal meetings early so I had time to collect myself and prepare.
At the meeting, I would be there, as would Alex. Deirdre Lyons and her attorney Mark Hall would also come, and various others would round out the guest list, including George, a court reporter to take notes, and anyone that was assisting with Deirdre’s case. It was definitely not going to be a place where Alex and I would hash out the particulars of our relationship, so I tried to put any thoughts of us out of my mind.
I had gathered all the questions and relevant information I needed and brought it to the room with me, grabbing a good seat so I could organize my paperwork like I wanted to. George came in next, settling himself next to me. He looked suave and well-dressed as usual, exuding confidence and competence. I was glad he was in my corner.
Mark Hall arrived a few minutes after we did, picking a seat on the other side of the table and greeting us professionally. I hadn’t worked with him before, but I had heard good things. I wasn’t intimidated, though.
Alex had said he wanted me on the case. That I was good, and I was competent. I had no reason to be intimated by someone like Mark Hall.
Deirdre Lyons then came in, our receptionist opening the door and ushering her in to the room. She fixed me with a cold stare and grudgingly shook my hand when I offered it.
She was beautiful, no doubt about it. Porcelain skin, jet-black hair, a stunning figure. The fact that she’d slept with Alex – on numerous occasions – made me hate her immediately, even though I knew it was irrational and had nothing to do with me.
At 10:02, I was starting to get worried. Everyone was there, except Alex. We tried to make small talk, but the atmosphere in the conference room was thick and strained. At about ten after, I decided to step out and call him to see where the hell he was.
As I closed the heavy conference room door behind me, I started trying to call up his number on my cell phone. Just as it started ringing, I saw him rush through the main doors to the office and walk-jog back to where I stood.
“What the hell?” I demanded, when he made it over to where I stood. “You’re ten minutes late. That’s not a good legal strategy,” I huffed.
He ran a hand through his hair, and I noticed he looked a little off. His tie was crooked and he looked frazzled, contrary to his usual unflappable demeanor.
“Sorry,” he said, looking sheepish. “I didn’t mean to be la
te. I’ll explain later.”
“Did someone die?” I asked. “Are you sick? If not, I’m not sure any other excuse would be good enough to be late.”
“We’ll talk afterwards,” he grumbled. “I know I’m late. Let’s just get started.”
“Okay,” I agreed, still miffed. “Let’s go,” I said, wanting to know more but knowing that we needed to get back in the conference room.
He nodded, obviously relieved, and straightened his tie. He followed me as I headed back in to the room.
I sat down in my seat, and he sat on the opposite side of me than George. After cursory greetings, we got down to the business of the deposition.
Mostly, I stuck to the questions I’d come up with the week prior, asking Deirdre about the software she’d developed and the particulars of it. Her attorney, in turn, asked Alex questions about his company and the purpose of the department that Deirdre had worked in.
Alex was quiet, answering the questions he was asked and not offering any more information than that. A reticent client was an attorney’s dream, but his odd, quiet demeanor worried me more than made me happy. But I forged on, desperate to get the session over with and talk to him privately. Even though he was sitting next to me he seemed distant, conflicted.
I tried to skirt around the topic of their relationship, with the purpose of keeping everything professional. I didn’t want to get personal unless I had to.
Deirdre, however, eventually forced me into it.
“Ms. Lyons,” I asked, trying to tease out her thoughts about why she believed the software was hers and didn’t belong to Alex and MarkTec. “Did you develop the software during the hours you were in the office at MarkTec?”
“Yes,” she said, her bright blue eyes sliding over to settle on Alex.
“Were you being paid for these hours while you were in the office?” I asked, watching the court reporter madly type away on her stenograph machine.
“I was a salaried employee,” she answered, still looking at Alex.
“Could you explain that statement?” I prodded.
“I wasn’t paid hourly. I was paid a salary. So I guess, yes, I was being paid for those hours, though not explicitly.”
“Thank you. Are you aware that the law states that if you’re using a company’s resources, while being paid a salary by that company, anything you develop is property of that company?”
“Yes, I am aware of that,” she answered, coolly.
I frowned. “What makes you think, then, that you even have a case? You developed this software on MarkTec equipment, while being paid by MarkTec, so obviously, it belongs to them.”
“I did other things while in my office, using my equipment, while being paid that were not explicitly part of my job,” she answered, smugly. “That doesn’t mean it was being paid for those things.”
Obviously, I knew what she was referring to, and so did Alex. I felt him stiffen next to me, going on the defensive.
“What are you saying, Deirdre? That if this software doesn’t belong to you, then I treated you like a prostitute?” Alex demanded, angry.
Deirdre smiled harshly. She seemed happy to have made Alex angry, to cause him to admit what had happened.
“You said it, Alex, not me,” she said, anger in her voice.
“I did not treat you like a whore,” Alex protested, loudly. “I can’t help it if you acted like one.”
“Woah,” I said, laying a hand on Alex’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. Across the room, Hall was trying to do the same thing to Deirdre, who had started to come out of her seat at Alex’s comment, ready to attack.
The court reporter kept typing. Great, this would look good on the record.
“Fuck you, Alex! You treated me like shit! You used me up and then tossed me away, and then kept my best work for yourself,” Deirdre spat. “You couldn’t honestly think that you could screw me on your desk and then just disregard me without any kind of consequences, did you? I deserve to own that code, if for no other reason than to screw you over!”
The room erupted into chaos, with Mark Hall frantically trying to shut Deirdre up, and Alex bellowing back at her.
There it was. The cat was out of the bag. It was what Alex had said in that very first meeting; Deirdre was interested in nothing more than revenge – a jilted lover looking to get back at the man who hurt her.
“Let’s all calm down!” I yelled, trying to get everyone to quiet.
In a way, I felt bad for Deirdre. I tried not to think about Alex treating me the same way he treated her. He said he wouldn’t, but does a leopard really change its spots?
Does a playboy change his playbook?
Despite my concern, though, a big part of me was rejoicing, because her admission would be the end of the legal proceedings. Now that she had admitted she was after nothing but spite, and didn’t have a legal claim to the code, we could dismiss the case.
Mark looked ready to spit nails, and Deirdre just stared at the table. For the first time, I could feel Alex relaxing.
Everyone quieted down. “In light of these recent developments,” I said, looking around the room, “I move to dismiss.”
Mark grumbled something under his breath, then looked at Deirdre. “Agreed,” he said, flipping his file folder closed. “I,” he said, stopping. “I have nothing to say,” he finished, disgusted.
I nodded. “Thank you all for your time,” I said, trying to keep the happiness out of my voice.
Everyone started to gather their things and get up to go. I stacked my papers into a pile and pushed myself out of my seat, leaning over to shake Mark’s hand.
“Thanks,” he said, face grim. “Sorry about all of this,” he apologized.
“Don’t mess with a woman scorned,” I replied.
I turned back to Alex, who was standing up out of his chair, looking thoughtfully out the window at the Chicago skyline.
“Can we talk in your office?” He asked.
9. Verdict
I sat down in my desk chair and Alex perched on the leather chair on the other side of the desk, looking a little wired.
“So what’s the deal?” I asked, not wanting to beat around the bush. And even though I tried to set low expectations, I realized that I was a little pissed that he hadn’t called me all weekend.
But if I was going to end up like Deirdre, maybe it was best to limit our contact.
“Tiffany,” he said, the word heavy on his lips. “Why didn’t you call me?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. Here I was, pissed that he hadn’t called me, but he was just as upset? That changed the game a little bit.
“Why would I call you?” I asked, defensively. “You had my number, too, you know. You’re a competent guy,” I said. “I’m assuming you know how to dial a phone.”
“I wanted to talk to you all weekend,” He admitted, leaning back in the chair, crossing his ankle over his knee. “But I wasn’t sure if I should. And this morning I tried to catch you before we went in to the deposition. I wanted to talk to you before all this went down, but you didn’t answer your phone.”
“I always leave my phone at my desk when I go in to a meeting, and I like to get there early,” I said, the realization that he had probably tried to call when I was in the conference room early dawning on me.
Alex nodded. “That’s why I was late. I kept trying to get you, and I left my office too late. Then I got stuck in traffic.
“Look, Alex,” I sighed, studying my fingernails, reluctant to make eye contact.
“Wait,” he interrupted. “Before you talk, let me say what I was going to say when I called you.”
He looked so earnest, I couldn’t deny him. “Okay. Shoot.”
“I wanted to talk to you before the deposition because…well, because I knew I was going to come out looking like an asshole.” He admitted. “I knew Deirdre was going to bring up how I treated her, and while I still don’t think I did anything wrong where she was concerned, I’m kind of sorry for how
it all ended up. “
“It does sound like you treated her like shit,” I pointed out.
“I know,” he agreed, uncrossing and re-crossing his legs. “What didn’t come out, though, is that she treated me like shit, too. She was just trying to hook me because she thought sleeping with me was a way for her to move up. When she found out it wasn’t going to work that way, she got mad and manipulative. That’s why her behavior got so erratic and I had to fire her.”
“Sounds like you both used each other – you used her for sex, she used you to get ahead,” I observed. “So you’re both assholes.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, looking away, somewhat embarrassed. “But that’s not how I wanted you to see me.”
“What do you want me to see?” I asked, irritated. “Because you know what I see now? A guy who treated another woman like dirt, then moved on to me. You fucked me and told me to screw off. Then you apologized, fucked me again, and didn’t bother to call. That isn’t a great image, Alex,” I spat.
“I can’t change what I’ve done, or how it looks,” he said, growing frustrated. “But I can change things going forward.”
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest.
“How? By not sleeping with me again?” I asked.
Stan was right. I could feel it in my bones; this is where he broke my heart, despite my best attempts to stay distant. I had a sinking feeling that when Alex Richardson walked out of my office after we were done, I’d never see him again.
“No, by sleeping with you every chance I got, and also treating you like something more than a distraction,” he said, looking me deeply in the eyes.
I wasn’t sure I heard right, and if I did, I understood what he meant. I needed to be sure of what he was saying.
“How do you plan to do that?” I demanded, a little softer.
“I like you, Tiffany,” he murmured, voice husky. “A lot. It’s not just physical. I’d like to take you out. Go to dinner. Have you stay with me all night, and wake up in your arms. When that happened this weekend, I felt good. It had been a while since I actually stayed all night with a woman.”
Caught Up: With An Alpha Billionaire (A BWWM Romance) (A Love Like No Other Book 1) Page 6
