Indiscretion: A Standalone Forbidden Romance

by Lane Hart

  I decide it's none of my business, and after making two fajitas, I take the empty seat beside Jude, mostly just to annoy Jackson since he thinks I was flirting with his brother.

  I fold up my tortilla tightly, noticing Jude and Jackson forgo the shells and are only eating meat and vegetables, and lean down to take a bite. Holy moly, these things are delicious! When I open my eyes from savoring the flavor all three men are looking at me.

  "Do I have something on my face?" I ask, grabbing my napkin and patting the corners of my lips.

  "You eat funny," Jackson says before digging his fork back into his food.

  "What?"

  "You're all delicate and shit, like a girl," Jude explains.

  "Um, okay?"

  "We're not used to having any ladies join us for dinner," their dad explains from the head of the table. "One of my sons is a whore, and the other is celibate. Between the two I may never have daughter-in-laws or non-bastard grandchildren."

  I can't hold in my snort of amusement. It's hilarious that he's so blunt!

  "That's definitely unladylike," Jude says in response, which causes warmth to spread across my cheeks. "Now you fit in a little better with us."

  "Gee, thanks," I mutter. "And thanks for letting me join you for dinner. These are great," I tell them, digging into my fajita.

  "So how are you going to respond to that picture of you two?" their father asks.

  "What is this picture I keep hearing about?" I ask.

  His dad pulls his phone from his pocket and hits a few buttons before sliding it across the table to me. Jackson intercepts it before I can see it.

  "Ah, fuck," he groans when he looks down. Now I really want to see it.

  "Let me see!"

  "Um, you really don't want to see this right now, Page. Maybe later."

  "Give me the phone, Jackson!"

  "No."

  I wipe my hands on my napkin then pull out my own phone from my pants pocket. In the search engine, I type Jackson's first and last name then wait for the images to load.

  "Son of a…biscuit eater!" I exclaim and cover my mouth when the first photo pops up. It's a side view of Jackson and me at the pool earlier. I'm clenching his arm that's around my waist as he presses my body against his huge, mostly naked one. His head is bent down awfully close to my ear, which makes it look like he's kissing me. The title of the article from a sleazy gossip magazine says, "Felony charges forgotten while MMA fighter Jackson Malone fraternizes with his legal staff."

  "Whheeeww," Jude whistles when he leans over to look at the phone in my hand.

  "She was about to fall," Jackson explains.

  "Sure, the old, 'I broke her fall excuse.'" Jude chuckles.

  "This is so not good. I can't believe my dad hasn't called to yell at me yet. Dang it, he'll probably take me off the case!"

  "No. I don't want you off the case," Jackson says right away, sparking a warmth inside me despite the current circumstances.

  "If there is even an appearance of a conflict, I'll have to get out, or I risk losing my law license."

  No wonder Elliott was pissed. This is bad, and it does look like something's going on between Jackson and me even though it's completely innocent. Okay, mostly innocent.

  "Maybe that's just a still shot from a video, like what we did with the hotel surveillance video. If we can find someone out of all those people around the pool that captured the whole thing then it won't be an issue, right?" Jackson asks.

  He has a good point. "No, probably not."

  Jackson sits his dad's phone down and pulls out his, while I put in a few keywords for videos. I finally come across one on a video sharing site with Jackson's name and today's date. I hit play, hoping this is it. And thank you cheese and rice, it’s us from before I turned around through my embarrassing slip and windmill, and finally his save and then release.

  "Got it!" I tell him, handing over my phone.

  Jude and his dad both jump up from their seats to go and take a look at it over Jackson's shoulder.

  "Huh, that really is what happened," Jude admits disappointedly, then returns to his plate of food.

  "That's a relief," his dad says before heading back to his seat to finish eating.

  My phone starts ringing in Jackson’s hand. He frowns and stretches across the table to hand it back to me. "It's your dad."

  "Hey, Dad," I answer.

  "Goddamn it, Page! What the hell were you thinking! I didn't give you permission to go to Atlantic City, and I sure as hell never expected you to screw around with our client!" He yells at me like I'm an unruly teenager.

  "It's just a misunderstanding. There's a video-" I start to say, but he interrupts.

  "Not only are you fucking things up with Elliot, but you're already fucking this case up after we just got hired!" he yells, making my eyes water at his harsh chastising. He's always expressed his disappointment in me, but never at this level. I stand up to leave the room and breakdown in private, but before I can escape, Jackson reaches across the table and jerks my phone from my hand.

  "Mr. Davenport? This is Jackson Malone," he says. His eyes are focused on the hardwood floor as he paces with his usual fluid grace alongside the dining room table. He reminds me of the angry caged tiger at the zoo, plotting who he's going to maul first once he escapes. Oh, and he will escape.

  "If you look on the internet there's also a full video showing I caught Page before she cracked her skull on the cement. And if we'd waited just two more damn days to subpoena the hotel video surveillance footage, it would've been gone. Permanently. Fucking. Erased. And then we wouldn't have the blown up photos of the bitch leaving without any marks on her neck, contrary to the pictures the prosecutor gave Page in the discovery today. Oh yeah, and Page wouldn't have found an employee that actually talked to the bitch when she was leaving the hotel that night. If it weren't for her getting shit done, I'd be fucked, waiting around for someone else at your firm to finally get off their ass. From now on this is her case or we're done," he says in a growling tone, making it clear that he's pissed and deadly serious before he hangs up on my father.

  I remain standing at the table absolutely dumbfounded. I've never heard anyone talk to my father that way. I've also never actually had someone defend me before, either. And in that moment I'm completely helpless when a little tiny sliver of my heart becomes his.

  Chapter Six

  Jax

  That motherfucking son of a bitch! It takes all my willpower not to pulverize her phone to prevent her from having to put up with his shit again. Instead, I set it gently back down on the edge of the dining table.

  When I look over at Page, her wide eyes are on mine. I wait for her to bitch at me about how she can take up for herself. Of course, I know that, but for some reason when I saw the tears welling in her eyes, and sadness replace her usual stubborn strength and confidence I just snapped. She's been working her ass off to defend me, even though she thinks I'm guilty, so standing up to her father's completely wrong accusations and totally out of line criticisms were the least I could do.

  "So what's for dessert?" Page asks in an exhale, ending the silence, and sitting back down all prim and proper and shit at the table.

  "Dessert?" I repeat, amazed when she doesn't bitch at me.

  "Yeah, you know like ice cream or chocolate. Maybe cookies? Dessert is the best part of every meal."

  "Fighters don't get to have unhealthy shit like dessert," I reply at the same time Jude says, "We've got some Oreos."

  My dad gets up and leaves the table, giving me a disappointed look when he passes. He probably thinks I was out of line with Page's dad. Screw that.

  "Oh yeah!" Page replies excitedly. "Oreos would be awesome. If it's not too much trouble, could I also have like a small glass of milk, too? Or do fighters not drink milk, either?" she asks with a smirk in my direction.

  "Yes, we have milk, and for you, sweetheart, I'd bring the whole fucking cow," Jude responds, making Page laugh and me groan befor
e he's up and ducking into the kitchen.

  Before I can sit back down, her goddamn phone starts ringing again and vibrating on the dinner table. Only instead of her dad, this time, it says, "Elliot" on the screen. Awesome. I'm raring to go 2-0 tonight with another telephone showdown. Since I'm closer, I grab it before she can.

  "Page's phone," I answer.

  "What the…who is this?" the angry man asks. "Where's Page?"

  "I'm sorry, but since Page and her fine ass are unavailable tonight, it looks like you'll just have to spank yourself."

  "Jackson!" Page hisses, lurching across the table but still unable to reach me. "Give me the phone!"

  "Who the hell is this?" the asshole asks. "Do you have any idea who the fuck you're talking to?"

  "Let me tell you who you're talking to. You're talking to a crazy motherfucker who will beat the shit out of you if you lay another finger on her ass without her express written permission to do so. And I don't give a fuck what soft, pussy job or title you have, buddy. You could use a big healthy dose of watch your goddamn mouth when you talk to her before I knock a few teeth out of it." I end the call, chest still heaving with adrenaline. Fucking bastard. I finally hand over the phone to Page's outstretched hand, knowing she's going to bitch me out for sure this time.

  "That…was the funniest shi...znit I've ever heard," Page says, looking up at me with a smile.

  "Shiznit?" I ask with my own grin, breathing deep to calm myself down. "What are you, ten?"

  "Excuse me if every other word out of my mouth is not filth like yours."

  And it is a damn fine mouth, I can't help but notice. Plump pink bottom lip, fuller than the top which forms a perfect fucking bow. I'd love to force those lips apart with a gasp of pleasure. Or watch them part even wider when they wrap around my hard cock. The cock currently pressing against the fly of my jeans so hard it'll likely have a permanent zipper imprint down it.

  Jude returns with the pack of cookies and a glass of milk, giving Page a low bow when he says, "Here you go, m'lady."

  "Thanks, Jude. You are definitely the more pleasant brother," she says when she accepts the offering and returns to her seat.

  "Yeah, Jax is a dick, but don't take it personally. He's like that to everyone because he thinks he's a badass."

  "I am a badass," I growl. Jude sits down beside her again, and they both pretend to ignore me.

  "So how do you like to do yours?" Jude asks, grabbing a cookie and twisting it open. "I like to lick all of the cream off with my tongue before I shove the cookie in my mouth," he tells her, heavy on the innuendo.

  "I dip the whole cookie in the milk until it's soft and mushy," she tells him, grabbing a cookie and doing just that. "Then I like to chug the murky milk after I eat all my cookies."

  Seeing her like this is…strange after dealing with the uptight, stuck-up Page. I sit down at the table to watch more of this easygoing side of her.

  "Double stuffed are the best," she tells my brother. He quickly agrees.

  "Jude's gonna have to do double cardio tomorrow to work off this shit," I mutter, not letting myself give in to the delicious temptation, even though I have no idea how long it'll be before I can fight again.

  "Why you always pissing all over my parade, Jax?" Jude grumbles. "You're such a Debbie Downer."

  "He always such an angry pessimist?" Page asks Jude.

  "Oh yeah. And he gets worse every year."

  "Why do you think that is?" she inquires, while they both pretend like I'm not in the fucking room.

  "I don't know. Probably because he's sad knowing he can never be as awesome as me."

  "You think you're so fucking funny, don't you?" I ask, reaching to grab one of the fucking Oreos from the pack.

  Cracking it open, I notice Page's gaze on me. I hold her eyes as I slowly run my tongue over one of the white cream sides. Those perfect lips of hers part as she focuses on my mouth like I intended, just to fuck with her. Trying to get a rise out of her is more fun than anything I've done in a long time.

  "Let me know whenever you're ready to go home, Page," I tell her, making her blink and break the spell.

  "Ah. Can't we keep her? Pretty please, Jax? I've always wanted my very own gorgeous, yellow-haired attorney," Jude begs, turning to me with clasped hands and big pleading eyes, making Page laugh. I don't like that he's the one eliciting such a sweet sound from her. "I promise I'll feed her and take care of her all by myself."

  "Nice, I'm sure Page loves being referred to as a stray dog."

  "Relax, Jax. I can take a joke," she replies with a snort, making my brother laugh. Hearing her use my nickname so familiarly causes that battering ram feeling against my chest that I try again to ignore.

  "Relax? The woman who told me I could end up serving a twenty-seven-year prison sentence is telling me to fucking relax?"

  "Holy shit! Are you serious?" Jude asks, his teasing and cookie in his hand forgotten.

  "With our progress today, I'm feeling a little more confident about your chances," Page responds with a smile. "I bet you won't get more than thirteen years."

  "That's not funny," I mutter.

  "Thirteen motherfucking years!?!" Jude exclaims.

  "That's the minimum I'll serve if I'm convicted on both charges, right Page?"

  "Minimum, as in the least?" my brother asks. "Jesus, Jax. Why didn’t you say anything?” He turns to Page. “What are the odds of him not getting convicted?"

  "I'd say fifty-fifty at this point. That's why I informed Jax that if he’s offered a plea to a lesser charge of just three or four years, he should consider it."

  "Jax, you'd be crazy not to take that shit!"

  "That's what I told him," Page responds to Jude, causing me to snap.

  "Fuck you both! I'm not pleading guilty. Why is that so hard for you to understand?" I jump to my feet and yell at them. "It's because you still think I did that shit, right? Screw it. Jude can give you a ride home because I've had enough of you for one fucking day."

  I slam the front door when I storm out of the house, and as soon as my car cranks, I throw it in reverse, peeling out of the driveway and heading for the gym. I need to burn off some serious stress and frustration. And yeah, maybe a part of me is disappointed that during the biggest fight of my life I don’t have a single person in my corner.

  …

  Page

  I yawn once again as I stare at my computer screen, working on direct and possible cross-examination questions for Jax. When my dad comes into my office, I swear I must have nodded off and am dreaming.

  "Page," my father's voice booms.

  "Yes?" I ask, trying not to show the hurt on my face from his words the night before.

  "I owe you an apology. I'm sorry I assumed the worst. I didn't know you'd made so much progress on Malone's case so soon."

  I almost swallow my tongue. My father, Miles Davenport, was apologizing to me? Jax really had scared the sushi out of him.

  "Thanks."

  "Keep up the good work," he says, before leaving as quickly as he came. A compliment and an apology in one conversation? It was turning out to be a red-letter day for the history books. But even that thought didn’t lift my spirits for long.

  I hadn't slept much last night after Jude gave me a ride home. I felt guilty about what had happened with Jax. I wanted to believe him, I really did. But a part of me...I just couldn't shake my first impression.

  That reminds me.

  I search through our firm's contact database, then as soon as I find the one I'm looking for I pick up the office phone and dial the number.

  "Hi, Mr. Rhodes. This is Page Davenport, a lawyer in Silver Spring. I have a criminal client who'd like you to give him a polygraph."

  "Oh, sure. How soon do you need it?" he asks.

  "First available spot you have."

  "I just had a cancelation, so how about this afternoon at four?"

  "I'll have to confirm with my client, but that should work. Do I need to be there?"
>
  "No, just him. But it'd be great if you could talk to him to formulate three or four questions and then email them to me, along with his charge sheets before the appointment."

  "Sure. I've already got your email address, so I'll get that to you, along with the confirmation that he'll be there at four today after I talk to him. I'll have him bring you a check drawn on our firm's account to protect the report under attorney-client work product. Do you still charge a thousand?"

  "Yes, and that sounds great. Thanks, Ms. Davenport."

  I hang up but then hesitate before calling Jax. I need to give him as much notice as possible for the polygraph appointment, but what if he's still pissed? He might not even answer. That'd be good, and then I can just leave him a message. I take a deep breath and dial his number.

  "Hello?"

  Sheesh, he answered right away.

  "Oh, um, hey, Jax. So I've got you a polygraph scheduled for today at four if that works?"

  "Yeah."

  "Okay, so I need to draft up the questions. Which ones are you confident you can pass?"

  "Any of them. All of them. Whatever the fuck you want to ask." So he still sounds a little pissed.

  "How about, 'Have you ever forcefully engaged in sexual intercourse with Christina Loftis without her consent?'"

  "Fine."

  "And, then after that, 'Did you strangle Christina Loftis?'"

  "Uh-huh."

  "And then the last one, 'Have you ever forced Christina Loftis to perform oral sex on you?'"

  Jax barks out a laugh on that last one. "Force someone to perform oral sex…what idiot bought into that bullshit?" he mutters softly, mostly to himself.

  "All right, I'll send these on over to Mr. Rhodes and email you his address. You'll need to come by here beforehand and get a check to pay his fee. That way he's working for the firm and not you, assuring the results are protected in case you don't pass."

  "Right," he grunts before hanging up on me.

  After putting in the urgent check request with our bookkeeper, the rest of the morning I busy myself with formulating questions for other witnesses. After lunch, I get a surprise about as shocking as my father apologizing. Elliott apologizing. Of course he doesn't say the actual words, but instead sends a humongous vase of flowers with a note that says simply, "Hope to see you soon, so we can move past this misunderstanding." That was as close as I'll ever get to an apology from the stubborn man.