Objection

by Sawyer Bennett

Page 4

 

  Matt listens for just a few seconds, and then he says, “Very good. I expect the check tomorrow by noon. ”

  He hangs up the phone without a good-bye and immediately types a few notes on his computer. While his long fingers work the keyboard over, I ruminate on that conversation.

  Damn, that was some hot legal talk. I have no clue if his case had merit or not, but I would have paid whatever he was telling me to pay after hearing that.

  When Matt finally stops typing and swivels his chair to face me, I say, “So… sounds like you just settled a case for $25,000. Congrats. ”

  His face remains impassive, not even a hint of a smile. He says, “Try twenty-five million. ”

  “Excuse me?” I say, stunned, because I surely misheard him.

  “Twenty-five million,” he reiterates, calm as day.

  Clearing my throat and trying to calculate what one-third of twenty-five million would be, because… holy shit, that’s a huge legal fee, I ask, “May I inquire as to what type of case?”

  Standing from his computer, Matt walks over to a mini-fridge and pulls out a bottled water. He holds one up to me, but I shake my head no.

  “Train accident,” he says matter-of-factly. “Mrs. Sanderson and her kids were on a train. They were all killed when a truck driver who was drunk off his ass got his rig stuck on the tracks. Train couldn’t stop. Kids and mom died a fiery death. ”

  “Oh,” I say quietly. “That’s terrible. But hey… you should be happy. What a settlement!”

  “It was worth more,” he says in disdain, but he doesn’t elucidate. However, as an attorney, my interest is peaked way too greatly to let it go at that.

  “Then why didn’t you settle for more? Seems like you had the upper hand. ”

  With a pained sigh, Matt sits down behind his desk again, taking a sip of his water. “Mrs. Sanderson’s husband doesn’t want to go to court. At all. He says he just doesn’t have it in him to relive the pain of what happened. So he gave me the authority to take the one million they were offering today and told me to make the case go away. ”

  “So you were bluffing just then?”

  “That I was,” he confirms, sounding neither proud nor victorious.

  I’m impressed with Matt. His overt confidence was a key element in getting Mr. Sanderson justice, but I’d also learned from Miss Anders that Matt has an incredible reputation in the courtroom. He has a track record to back up his bluff, and that was probably the key to getting the case settled.

  “I’m not happy about you working here,” he says without preamble.

  “I gathered that by your icy welcome this morning. I get that you’re mad about it. I guess I just can’t figure out why?”

  His eyebrows raise, and he looks at me, stunned. “You can’t figure out why I’m mad? How about because I had my tongue between your legs two days ago, or the fact we both almost overdosed on orgasms, or maybe it’s because I got a f**king hard on the minute you walked in that conference room door? Take your pick… there are a variety of reasons why I’m mad. ”

  His words are gritted out, but they have a sexy quality to them as well, and oh my God… the fact he got a hard on from looking at me?

  Wow.

  Pleasure zings through my body, with the knowledge that I still affect him that way. However, it’s with a measured, logical tone, I say, “I’m not sure why this is a problem? We spent a night together. It’s over. We forget about it, and we go on. ”

  Matt rolls his eyes at me as if I just said the dumbest thing in the world. “I don’t need this shit in my business. I don’t need you walking around all doe-eyed at me, hoping for something more. ”

  “What?” I practically shriek at him, anger now surging hot in my veins. “What makes you think I’ll be doing that?”

  Egotistical moron!

  He looks at me like he can’t even believe I’d find fault with his reasoning. “I’m just anticipating it. It’s a woman thing. ”

  Okay, now I’m beyond pissed. Standing up from my chair, I walk up to the edge of his desk and slap my palms on it. I lean forward and glare at him as if laser beams are shooting from my eyes. The fact that this man is my boss and holds my future employment in his hands does nothing to diminish the nuclear blast of an ass-chewing I’m getting ready to hand out.

  “Listen, you jackass,” I sneer at him, not caring one whit if this gets me fired. “I can conduct myself in a businesslike manner, and yeah… you got me to scream a few times the other night. But I can guarantee you—you’re not the only man in New York that can accomplish that feat. I’m certainly not in any danger of walking around all… What did you call it? ‘Doe-eyed?’ I’m not even sure what the f**k that is. ”

  My breath is coming out harshly, and I’m daring him to argue with me. He returns my look with a wary gaze, and he chooses to hold his tongue.

  Wise man.

  “One last thing,” I continue. “I’ll do my job, and I’ll do it well. But if you so much as try to fire me or treat me any differently because of our little encounter, I’ll sue you for discrimination faster than you can blink. Are we clear?”

  Matt stares at me for a few seconds, his jaw popping back and forth. He’s angry, but he finally grits out, “Crystal clear. ”

  I turn on my heel and walk out his door.

  I don’t see Matt for the next two days at work, but the office calendar said he was in Atlanta for a court hearing. I took the time to acclimate myself to my office, meet as many of the other firm members as I could, and work on the one, single case that I had to my name.

  Most of my work as an associate attorney with Lorraine was to basically do the grunt work on her cases. I had one true case that was mine alone, and that’s because Lorraine told me she wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole. Miss “I Only Represent Corporate America” couldn’t bother herself to touch a regular old personal injury case. In fact, she actually sneered at me when I told her I had taken the case of one Mr. Larry Jackson.

  I pretty much worked the case myself, trying to figure things out as I went along. Luckily, I had a Torts professor at Columbia that gladly dispensed out advice to me as I needed it. One day… I’m assuming out of sheer boredom, Lorraine asked me about the case. When I told her my client had a rather severe brain injury and the economist I hired had projected his medical and earning losses into the millions, her face did take on a rather orgasmic look and, since then, she didn’t think the case was all that stupid anymore.

  You may wonder how I ended up with such a delectable case being only one year out of law school.

  Well, it was pretty easy.

  Apparently, it’s not that great of a case. My client claims a dump truck turned left in front of him, and he had no time to stop. The dump truck driver insists my client was speeding and didn’t have his headlights on, even though it was almost half an hour before dawn, when headlights would have been required.

  The insurance company even took great pride in showing me pictures of my client’s speedometer showing the needle stuck at sixty-six miles per hour when he was in a fifty-five mile per hour zone.

  So, yeah… I landed this case because seven other attorneys had turned it down. They all said it was a dog… said there was no chance at victory, which is depressing to say the least. But I am not ready to give up.

  I admit the speedometer is an issue, and I haven’t quite figured that out yet, but I did blow their claim clear out of the water that the headlights weren’t on. I hired an expert that studied my client’s headlights. He said the bulbs unequivocally proved the lights were on because the filaments were bent, indicating there was a heat source on at the time of impact. Had the lights been off and thus cold, the filaments wouldn’t be so ‘bendy’—my words, not the expert’s—and would have shattered instead.

  Score one for the recent law school grad who has only one case to her name and plenty of time on her hands to tr
y to figure this shit out.

  On my third day at my new law firm, I have a lovely conversation with my client’s wife, Miranda, and tell her about my move to Connover and Crown. I usually talk to Miranda because with Larry’s head injury, he can’t remember three-quarters of the stuff I tell him anyway. It’s a tragic side effect, and one that cost him his job as an electrical engineer, which he had worked at for thirteen years. We chat for quite awhile and then I sign off, promising to call her the following week with an update.

  Putting Larry’s case aside, I pull out a thick stack of files that Lorraine wants me to review for her—back to the grunt work. It’s at times like this I could kick myself in the ass for ever wanting to be a lawyer.

  I get immersed into the scintillating world of corporate finance—aka drool-inducing law—and am just considering a break for a cup of coffee when someone knocks on my door. I don’t even look up from the arbitration clause I’m reviewing for like the hundredth time because it’s so boring and merely say, “Come in. ”

  “Got a minute?” Matt says.

  My head snaps up and I put on my mental boxing gloves, prepared for him to jab me with a scathing remark, or God forbid, call me doe-eyed. Which, if he does that, may cause me to need my literal boxing gloves.

  I don’t respond, just look at him in question with my head tilted slightly.

  He takes my silence as acquiescence, and let’s face it… he’s the boss so he can come and go in my office as he pleases. When he takes a seat opposite my desk, I take a moment—just a few seconds really—to appreciate the hotness of Lawyer Matthew. He looks utterly resplendent in his dark gray suit that is perfectly tailored to fit his frame, and he’s rocking a buttery yellow tie with gray striping. His hair is perfectly styled, but there is a tiny hint of stubble on his chin. He appraises me with his golden eyes, and I wait patiently to see what he wants.

  After glancing around my office and taking note of my bare walls, he says, “Aren’t you going to decorate in here?”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “Sure… one day. ”

  He’s quiet for another few moments, and then his eyes finally settle on mine with a look of frustration. “Look… I want to apologize for what I said the other day. I was more than a little unsettled when you walked in, and it had nothing to do with that bullshit about you being ‘doe-eyed’. In fact, I’m not even sure what the hell that means myself. ”

  I snicker to myself but don’t let him see anything more than genuine interest on my face. It certainly will not help my boss to know I find him adorable in a weird sort of way.

  “It’s important to me that my business stay business, and my personal remain personal. Understand?”

  “Totally,” I say in firm agreement.

  “I mean… the other night, we were explosive,” he adds.

  “To the moon,” I supply.

  “And that has no business in this office. ”

  “No place at all. ”

  “No matter how hot that experience was. ”

  “It’s not even an issue. ”

  “So… we’re in agreement?”

  “I have no clue,” I say sincerely, only because I really have no idea what he’s getting at. “But if what you’re trying to say is that what we had was amazing, but that it is over and done with, then I’m in full agreement. ”

  Matt stands up. “Then we can put that in the past and never think about it again?”

  “It’s already gone from my mind,” I say with resolve.

  “Good,” Matt says emphatically, although his face still carries a touch of worry.

  Or is that regret?

  I don’t want there to be any animosity between my boss and me, and while yeah… I’m still going to continue to think about that amazing night because—BEST SEX EVER—it was never meant to be anything more than a one-night stand, and our time has indeed passed.