“Vroom vroom!” he’s saying. “Round round round round round.”
I make a mental note to bring him a motorcycle toy if I ever see him again.
“Goodbye, little buddy,” I say, kneeling in front of him. “It’s time for me to go.”
“Nooooooo!” Caleb says, beginning to cry.
I wrap my arms tightly around him, and he returns the tight hug, laying his head on my shoulder as he cries.
“I had a very fun day with you,” I tell him. “You be a big boy and have fun playing with Esmeralda now.”
“Okay,” he says, wiping his nose with his shirt sleeve.
Esmeralda appears with a tissue, as always knowing exactly what Caleb needs.
He sobs a little bit into the tissue but he’s already toughening up.
“Bye, Esmeralda,” I tell her, and hug her too.
I don’t know if it’s because she’s so awesome or because I need a little bit of comforting. This is definitely not how I thought my last day in New York City would go.
“Goodbye, Larson,” she says, a surprised smile spreading across her face. “Come back soon.”
It’s sweet that Esmeralda seems to like me as much as I like her. I seem to be doing a great job of winning over everyone except Brynn— and Brynn’s the only one I’ve tried to impress so hard.
And by hard, I mean fast and furious and sweet and slow and everything in between, in the sack of course. Brynn had sure seemed to love it. But apparently she didn’t love it enough to refrain from running out on me the morning after.
I pick up my bag, pretending I hadn’t heard that last part because I don’t know what to say in return.
“You can take the limo,” Esmeralda says, and punches something into her cell phone.
“Oh no, I couldn’t…” I start to say, but she puts a finger up to her lips.
“I already told him to come back for you.”
“But doesn’t Brynn need him to take her home from work?”
“It probably won’t be for a while,” Esmeralda says, her eyes downcast. “And her work has cars too.”
A chill runs through me as I realize that Brynn could take a car home with Clay. At least I won’t be here anymore to have to see that. Or to get in the way of their schmoozing, or whatever it might be.
“Well, I accept then, thank you,” I tell Esmeralda, and head out to the stoop to wait for the car to swing back around.
I’m taking a fucking limo back to the airport. Free of charge.
This should be the best day of my life.
But, except for the time I spent with Caleb and the memory of his small hands on my back as his arms were wrapped around me in a goodbye hug, it’s turned out to be one of the worst.
I need to forget about Brynn Elliot. I still don’t know exactly what’s going on and I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt but the fact that she didn’t even contact me all fucking day long is inexcusable.
She thinks she can just leave a note by the bed and go to brunch with a billionaire and forget about me during my trip out here, and that I’ll excuse it because of what? Her fucking banging curves? Those sultry eyes? The way her laugh is genuine and sincere?
Sure, those things are all great. And I’ll definitely miss them. But nothing good could come out of a relationship with a workaholic at best and someone who sneaks around behind my back at worst.
The driver pulls up and I signal at him gratefully. I’ll have extra time at the airport now that I don’t have to take the subway, but at least I know I’ll make my flight in time. I can’t wait to get back to New Mexico, and my bike, and life as I know it before I met a lawyer dressed as a cheerleader who made me lose my fucking mind to the extent that I actually went to a costume party.
It was fun while it lasted but now it’s time for me to go back to my life as an outlaw and a hermit. Brynn can enjoy her life as a schmoozer without me.
Chapter 31 – Brynn
As soon as Clay and I get back to the office from the diner, it’s obvious that the whole firm is waiting anxiously to hear about what we’d discussed.
I smile uncomfortably as Paul Makens opens the door to the conference room and motions to the head of the table and the seat right next to it, both of which have been reserved for us while everyone else sits all around the rest of the table.
All of this is happening so fast. I don’t even know if I want it to be happening. I know that the partners want me to do whatever Clay wants and that this is likely to help my career.
I also know it will bring me closer geographically to Larson. Those are the positive aspects. But the big negative aspect is that Clay is seriously starting to creep me out.
When I first started working here, the partners were happy to hear about my Albuquerque connection with Clay because he is the firm’s biggest client. But he didn’t seem to pay me any notice until the Halloween party.
Shit. Must have been that stupid cheerleading costume. Because now he doesn’t seem to be doing anything but paying me notice.
He even puts his arm around me as we walk into the room. Sure, it’s mostly to usher me into the door but I don’t want him touching me at all. I have common sense enough to know, however, that now is neither the time nor place to tell him that.
My complaints will have to wait until some other time when all eyes are not on us, desperately hoping that we bring good news to the firm. Business has been slow lately due to the election and holiday season and the partners seem elated that Clay wants to talk money.
I sit down in the chair reserved for me and try to inconspicuously slide my phone out of my purse. I had wanted to text Larson since Clay and I were at the diner but I knew he would consider it rude. Clay is the type to expect and demand one’s full attention, and especially and maybe understandably so when he’s about to propose a venture that will bring a lot of business and money to the firm.
I hadn’t wanted to do anything that could blow this deal and make the partners mad at me. I’d been specifically instructed to not fuck it up.
But I’d thought that when we got back to the firm I’d have time to run to my office or at least to the bathroom, so that I could text Larson. I have no choice but to try to do it right now before this meeting starts.
I glance down at my phone and notice that I have a new text notifications from Larson. Shit. He’s probably so pissed.
I get as far as moving my thumb across the slider on the screen that opens up the text when Clay clears his throats and looks very obviously down at my phone. I look up at Paul and see that he is glaring at me.
“Brynn, I know you’re waiting on the final documents in that big settlement we worked out for the De la Cruz case but this is a very important matter,” he says. “So why don’t you give your phone to Dee so that she can check any incoming documents or messages for you?”
Dee, a floating assistant who is in the room for whatever assistance might be required during this meeting, looks as confused as I feel. Then I realize that Paul is just looking for a way to take my phone so that I can’t be distracted by it anymore.
“Dee, better yet, go ahead and take Brynn’s phone to Mary so that she can take a look at whether those documents have come in or not,” says Paul.
Good thinking on your part, I want to tell him. My assistant Mary is the bomb and she’ll know that we’re not waiting on any documents in the De la Cruz case. That settlement finalized months ago and Paul just pulled the most recent big settlement out of his ass to brag about to the client and use as an excuse to take my phone from me.
Mary will think that Dee is confused but will know to check my email from my office computer just to make sure nothing has come in. So this is just Paul’s plan to take my phone away from me.
I guess I can’t even be trusted with a cell phone. They must view me the same way they would a 12- year- old.
I know it was a stupid move to try to text Larson right when an important meeting just started but I also had no idea that today would turn out this way and
I really wish I could let him know what’s going on. As usual, I feel torn between my personal and professional obligations.
Once Dee has come to take the phone from me— and I wonder why she just doesn’t put me in the corner with a dunce cap on while she’s at it— Clay nods with smug satisfaction.
“I’m sorry about that, Clay,” Paul apologizes. “And so is Brynn.”
“Yes,” I say quickly, nodding my head humbly. “Very sorry.”
“Now it appears the meeting is ready to officially start,” Paul continues, as Dee exits the room with my phone— and my only opportunity to contact Larson— in her obedient grasp and shuts the door behind her. “Clay, would you like to let us know why we’re all here?”
Yes, good question Paul. Why are all of us cooped up in this room on a fine Sunday afternoon? But I already know the answer. It’s because Clay always insists on being the most important person ever. He enjoys having a captive, spellbound audience.
And maybe somehow he’d heard that Larson was coming to town. I can only imagine he’d want to outdo him in that scenario.
Clay smiles at me and then tells the room, “Well, as you all know, I’ve been very impressed with your associate Brynn, and I know that she hails from my hometown of Albuquerque. She and I just had a very productive lunch. And I’d like to let you all in on what we talked about.”
Paul nods at him, as if urging him to get to the good stuff.
“But I can’t,” Clay says.
An audible gasp can be heard around the room.
“I mean,” Clay continues, stretching his arm out in a dramatic and sweeping manner. “I can tell you the overall points of it. But it involves Brynn and I working very closely together on issues that can’t be fully discussed with just anyone and everyone.”
I squirm in my seat. The partners are glaring at me as if this arrangement that I hadn’t even known about is my fault.
I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that Clay is telling them there are things he would work on with a lowly associate— me— instead of with them, or the fact he is implying that our professional relationship is a little too up close and personal.
I don’t want either of these things to be true. I just want to head back home to Larson and Caleb and pretend that this nightmare of a day never happened.
Chapter 31 – Brynn
The partners in the room look as perplexed and horrified as I do.
“What exactly do you have in mind for Brynn?” Paul asks. “Keeping in mind, of course, that’s she’s an associate.”
Yes, another good question, Paul. What exactly does Clay have in mind for me?
“Brynn is going to head up my Albuquerque office,” Clay announces, in a firm and resolute manner.
“Your…?” Paul regains his composure before continuing. “You have an Albuquerque office?”
“I do not, yet,” Clay answers. “And that’s what I’m trying to rectify.”
He tells them all the same things he told me at The Argonaut— how he plans to put me in charge of his local operations while the partners here can handle his New York matters.
“But, we need Brynn here,” Paul protests. “She’s working on several very important matters.”
I don’t know if Paul is just coming up with a ploy to keep this hair-brained idea from happening or if the firm actually values me as an associate so highly. But either way, I’m grateful.
“We can share her.”
Clay offers up his compromise so quickly it makes my stomach churn. I hate how he says “share” so flippantly and with such innuendo. I can’t help but feel he’s subtly hitting on me with every word that he says.
“She can commute and work part here and part there,” Clay says, as if my schedule and my life are things that can be divided up so neatly and at his every whim.
“I’m listening,” says Paul. “How much business are we talking here? How much work would you have for Brynn to head up?”
It all comes down to money, of course. It always does.
Paul thinks the idea is ridiculous but is willing to listen because money talks. He knows that if he doesn’t let Clay at least think he’s entertaining the idea, Clay will go elsewhere. Or perhaps try to steal me out from under the firm. Which is a very good hunch to have, since Clay had said as much himself.
Now there’s an idea, I start to think. If I’m going to be working in Albuquerque I’d prefer to only work there, especially if Clay could pay me New York City money to live in Albuquerque with its much lower cost of living. I’d have an easier lifestyle and I wouldn’t have to jet set Caleb back and forth over 2,000 miles all the time.
It might help or hurt what’s going on between Steven and me—maybe he would give up trying to see Caleb if we lived in Albuquerque or maybe he would try to say I couldn’t even do it because now he supposedly wants to see Caleb more often.
But if it could work out, I’d be closer to Larson. Of course that’s a main incentive that I don’t want to admit. But it probably won’t even matter since I doubt he’ll ever want to talk to me again after today.
“Oh, I have a lot of business in Albuquerque,” Clay assures Paul. “It’s definitely well past time I had my own office there because I can’t keep up with everything by parsing things out to local attorneys. We can run the numbers soon. Brynn and me and you of course.”
“Brynn?”
Paul raises his eyebrows. Apparently he’s changing his tune about how necessary I am. I’m certainly not welcome to discuss numbers.
“Yes, Brynn,” Clay says. “I need her involved every step of the way.”
Paul looks at me suspiciously.
“Is there…?” He starts to say, but he shakes his head, apparently thinking better of it.
I know he was going to ask if there is something the firm needed to know about Clay and me. Or maybe if there is something going on between Clay and me, which is essentially the same question.
My cheeks are burning. I’m upset at Clay for making it seem like we’re involved. And upset at Paul for thinking bad of me for it. They probably assume the only reason Clay wants to give me this work is because we’re fucking. Although the only reason he’s probably doing it is because he wants to fuck me.
Now I have no idea what I’m going to do. I want to work in Albuquerque at least part-time— and it doesn’t look like I’m going to have a choice anyway, since I have to do what the partners want, and the partners will want to do what the client wants— but I don’t want to have to capitulate to Clay’s every demand. Especially not if I have any hope of things still working out with Larson.
In one day I’ve found out that I have a chance to work closer to him, but also that I have to work closely with someone he probably will rightfully despise. That I’m beginning to rightfully despise.
I sit through the rest of the meeting in silence, knowing that my fate is out of my hands. Such is life as an associate at a law firm, something I had to learn and get used to a long time ago.
As soon as the meeting is over— with a handshake promise that the firm will seriously look into Clay’s proposal and plans for getting back together tomorrow to go over numbers— I rush over to my assistant’s desk.
“Hey boss,” she says, handing me my phone. First she disconnects it from its charger. How nice of her to make sure it has a full battery. That’s so Mary-like.
"I was checking your battery life and couldn't help but notice that you had a text from a certain gentleman I believe I saw in here on Friday," Mary says.
Damn. She's great, but nosy as hell.
"Your battery life was low, so I decided to charge the phone for you. So you should have no problem contacting him now that that important meeting is over."
She grins at me.
She doesn't know I probably will have a problem contacting him because he probably wants nothing to do with me anymore. And I don't plan to tell her that because I try very hard not to mix my professional and personal life, even with someone as c
ool as Mary. Although Clay and his idiotic "proposal" are starting to make that goal seem very difficult to continue to achieve.
"Thanks, Mary. I appreciate you manning the fort, and my phone."
She looks eager to chat— most likely about the meeting, Clay, and Larson. And I don't blame her.
"I know it couldn't have been fun to sit out here all day with nothing to do but guard my phone like I'm a disobedient twelve year old," I start to tell her.
"Yeah, what was with that anyway?" she asks.
"But I have to run."
I look towards the conference room where some partners are trying to schmooze with Clay. I need to get out of here right away, before he stops me and tries to keep me captive even longer.
"Okay, no problem," Mary says, although the smirk on her face betrays her words. "I mean, I did get caught up on entering all your time and clearing out all your email out of your inbox. So it's not like I was completely bored."
"Just what you wanted to be doing on a sunny Sunday afternoon, right?" I ask her, as I head towards the door.
"Exactly."
"See you tomorrow and I'll catch you up on what's been going on around here," I tell her.
Or at least part of it. Clay has sworn all of us to secrecy about the exact details until everything is ironed out and the firm makes a big announcement.
"You definitely have to tell me about your juicy new love interest," she says in a loud whisper. "He's super hot."
I actually blush.
"Maybe," I reply, like a blubbering school girl.
If I'm not allowed to tell her anything about Clay and the firm's goings-on then maybe I'll throw her a bone and tell her about how great Larson is with Caleb.
That is, if Larson still wants anything to do with me.
After I'm down the elevator and out of the building, I call Caleb.
There's no answer, even though I know his plane hasn't taken off yet. Google Alerts on my phone told me his flight has been slightly delayed.
"Hi Larson, it's Brynn, and I'm really sorry."
I start to explain but then I have a better idea.
Sold as a Fake Fiancee: A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance Page 92
