DISCOVERY (Esquire Black Duet Book 1)

by Hayley Faiman

  Once I’ve gathered my wits about me, I walk out of the bathroom and head back toward him.

  Inhaling a ragged breath, I allow my eyes to meet his. Lucas smiles when he sees me and I give him a gigantic fake grin, back.

  “I ordered you a stack of pancakes,” he announces.

  I almost groan because they sound delicious. I also almost forgive him for being the epitome of Esquire Asshole, because pancakes are my weakness.

  The waitress arrives a few moments later with an egg white omelet for him, a side of fruit, and an English muffin.

  Then she sets down my three big-ass stacked pancakes with melting butter, and I suddenly feel like a big fat slob sitting across from him.

  “Eat, we don’t have time to waste,” he says, clearing his throat.

  Grasping the syrup bottle in my hand, I bring it over to my pancakes and let it pour. I watch as it drips over the sides of my stack of hotcakes and onto the plate. When it’s sufficient, only then do I set it down.

  In silence, I cut my food and then start to eat it. I can’t taste any of it, not even the sweet syrup. What I had hoped we were becoming, the glimpses that I had seen in him, it was all for not.

  He sees me as a body in his bed and nothing more, something to use to alleviate his stress for the day. I’m pretty sure that he’s helping me right now because he feels obligated.

  I think that deep down he’s a fairly decent man and he would feel guilty if something happened to me, but he doesn’t harbor any feeling other than lust and desire for me.

  We don’t talk during breakfast, I’m too busy trying not to cry and feeling really fucking stupid all at the same time. If

  Lucas is perturbed or disturbed by the silence, he doesn’t show it. He’s busy on his phone, typing things out, working, I assume.

  I’m so lost inside of my own head that I can’t even think straight, let alone carry on a conversation.

  Once we’ve finished eating, together we hurry toward the car. He drives back to his place in more silence.

  It’s an awkward silence for me, but I don’t think he even has the slightest hint that I’m upset.

  Luckily, it doesn’t take long to get to his house and I’m out of the car as soon as he throws it in park.

  I don’t have time to think about what he’s said anymore. I have to get ready for work or I’m going to be late.

  Thankful for the reprieve, from my own constant thoughts, I step into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water. I need to breathe for just a moment.

  Once I’ve downed half of the bottle’s contents, only then do I head upstairs to get dressed for the day.

  Lucas is already in the shower by the time I make it to the bedroom. Gathering my things, I decide to use the guest shower which has become our routine the past few days. We don’t shower together unless it’s in the evening.

  All of my toiletries and makeup are already littering the guest bathroom counter. I think that’s the way Lucas likes it too. I’m completely out of his living space, away from his things, out of sight and out of mind.

  Noticing the time, I speed through my routine and throw my hair up in a sleek top bun when I hear his knock on the door.

  Quickly, I wrap my dress around my waist and tie it closed before I turn to the door and open it.

  Today, I’m wearing a bright purple wrap dress that hits right above my knees with nude high heels on my feet.

  It’s something easy and looks put together and professional in a rush. Lucas’ eyes scan me up and down before his lips set in a thin line.

  “Your tits are practically hanging out,” he announces.

  Looking down, I notice that I do have a bit of exposed cleavage, but I’m large chested. I honestly have cleavage in everything I wear.

  I’m not being obscene or showing anything extreme. Rolling my eyes, I try to skirt past him, but he doesn’t let me move. His big body blocks my exit.

  “You going to cover up?”

  He lifts a brow, his lips still pressed in a thin line and his jaw clenched so hard that a muscle jumps in his cheek. Inhaling deeply, I lift my chin so that I can look up into his gaze.

  “No, Lucas, I’m not going to change, or cover up. I’ve worn this dress a dozen times. It’s actually one of my favorites.”

  He grunts as his eyes narrow on me, but I stand firm, keeping my face impassive and trying with everything that I am not to break down under his serious gaze.

  I’m not anything but a vessel to relieve his stress for the day, he doesn’t get to dictate to me what I wear. I already conceded with the yoga pants, I’m not going to do that with this.

  He’s giving me his best intimidating look, and I almost buckle underneath it. I can see why he wins cases, why people are frightened of him, but I refuse to be. I’m sure it’s his scary, court face.

  I attempt not to let it intimidate me—or at least let it show. I’m an attorney too, and although I don’t need to be intimidating, I do need to stand my ground and I plan on doing that with him, at least when it comes to the damn dress.

  Just when I think he’s going to give up and step back to let me pass, he lifts his hand and runs his finger down my cleavage before bringing it back up.

  I shiver at his touch, like I always do. He smirks, no doubt loving the way that his simple touch affects me, before he leans down and brushes his lips against mine.

  “I’m spanking your ass when we get home tonight. You wear something like this again, and the punishment will be worse,” he exhales.

  “Lucas,” I hiss.

  His hand moves, his fingers grabbing ahold of my ass and he gives me a hard squeeze.

  His eyes turn to stone right in front of me, they look like granite and my breath hitches at the angry gaze he’s giving me.

  I press my lips together, afraid that I’ll say something to earn even more of his anger.

  “I fucking mean it, Brooklyn. This shit is not appropriate.” He releases me, taking a step back.

  Lucas turns around and walks away from me, leaving me speechless in his guest bathroom. That speechless turns into irritation—and then into anger.

  How dare he.

  We aren’t together. He’s made it perfectly clear what I am to him. He has zero control over my clothes or anything else in my life. I already changed my gym routine because he got all pissy about me going alone.

  Now this?

  I don’t think so.

  Turning off the lights, I stomp downstairs where he’s waiting by the door, my briefcase and purse in his hands. He looks delicious standing by the door, too. He’s wearing a rich, dark, navy-blue suit. His pants are straight cut and fitted perfectly to his long thighs.

  I glance down at his medium brown leather shoes, lifting my eyes to his matching navy vest and jacket with a white shirt beneath.

  He has it all topped off with a wine-colored tie—he’s sexy as hell. His dark hair is styled perfectly, and his green eyes are focused on me as I stomp his way.

  Why does he have to be such a beautiful asshole?

  “You okay?” he asks on a laugh.

  I choose not to say anything, because if I do, it will be something that I assuredly regret.

  I hear Lucas chuckling behind me, obviously enjoying my irritation with him. I choose to ignore him, walking toward his car and waiting at the passenger side for him to unlock it.

  He parked in the driveway this morning instead of the garage since we just had to go in and change. He’s still chuckling when he unlocks the car with his remote and slides into the driver’s seat.

  He drives toward my office in silence, which I appreciate. I’m still steaming mad, but I don’t say a damn word to the man.

  How dare he try to lay boundaries like that. He’s made zero commitment to me, other than we’re only fucking each other.

  The truth of the matter is—he’s not my man, he’s not my anything—and that feels really shitty.

  It’s not even his fault.

  He’s been completely u
pfront. I’m the one that’s allowing it all.

  However, even if he was my man, I wouldn’t accept him trying to control me down to my clothes, especially when they aren’t even inappropriate.

  It’s not like I’m trying to come to work in some kind of slutty dress from the sex shop.

  “See you at lunch, kitten,” he calls out once I open the door and stand up from his car.

  Looking down at him, I see he’s got his smirk in place and a twinkle in his eye.

  The asshole loves to rile me up for whatever reason, so I just roll my eyes again. I ignore him and turn away, then walk into work.

  Screw him.

  I’m not seeing him for lunch.

  He can go fuck himself.

  LUCAS

  I watch her plump ass walk away from me in her too tight purple dress. My own slacks become too tight just from watching her and being able to smell her sweet scent in my car.

  Brooklyn is working her way into my daily life, and I fucking like it, way too much—which is why I said what I did.

  I knew it would piss her off, and she should stay that way. Boundaries. I need them between us, because this is getting way too fucking domestic between us.

  I don’t need her to start getting ideas about the two of us, and I need to remind myself of the same damn thing.

  I’ve never had a woman so integrated into my life before. It feels foreign, and yet, I enjoy having her around.

  Grinning, I put my car in reverse. I’ve pissed her off. Maybe I should feel bad about that, but I don’t.

  I watched her all during breakfast and I knew I’d made her mad. Her amber-colored eyes were practically balls of fire.

  There’s something about pushing her buttons that I rather enjoy. She has a snarky, smart assed attitude when she’s irritated. But when she’s good and truly pissed off, she’s fucking beautiful.

  My Brooklyn, and she is just that—mine, she’s beautiful always. However, when her passion ignites, no matter if she’s talking about work, food, yoga, or even when she’s angry with me, she’s always downright stunning.

  I adore that about her. It’s a beautiful trait, having so much passion that it pours out of you the way that it does her. I wish that I were more like her in that respect.

  My phone rings just as I switch lanes, inching closer toward my office. My car fucking hates L.A. traffic. It needs to speed, and this is not the place for it.

  “Hello,” I say after pressing the answer button on my steering wheel.

  “Hey fucker. Happy almost Fourth of July,” my brother, Dillon, laughs.

  “Fourth of July?” I ask as I make my way through traffic toward my office.

  Dillon snorts. “Don’t tell me you’ve been working so hard you forgot the best day of the year?”

  “What are you talking about?” I sigh.

  “Holy fuck, dude. It’s the Fourth, women in the skankiest flag patterned clothes, wearing as little as humanly possible. Gets me hard for Uncle Sam in a way that I really fucking shouldn’t. It’s tomorrow, where’s Noah taking you?” he asks, already knowing our normal routine.

  While Noah and I are always each other’s wingmen, he’s usually the one who knows the nightlife scene—where to be and where not to be.

  I’m glad when I pull onto the street toward my office and it’s empty, serene even. I pull into my parking space and lean back in my seat slightly.

  “Not going anywhere with Noah tomorrow,” I say.

  I don’t tell him that the only fireworks I want to see are when Brooklyn comes apart in my arms.

  I would sound like a goddamn cunt if I said that shit aloud. There’s a moment of silence, and I think perhaps the call has been dropped when my brother finally speaks.

  “What’s her name?” he asks.

  “Brooklyn,” I admit without hesitation.

  I don’t need to hide shit from Dillon. Sure, he busts my balls, and I do his as well, but he’s also one of the only people who truly knows me.

  “The one you called me about?” he asks.

  His tone has completely changed from a jovial jokester to serious. I scrub my hand over my face and resist the urge not to fuck up my hair by running my fingers through it.

  “We’ve been practically living together. She received some threatening phone calls, then someone broke into her condo and left a message on her bathroom mirror. I don’t know how I feel about all of it,” I admit.

  “About what? Practically living with her, or liking her enough that her being in danger worries you?”

  I let out a harsh laugh. He hit the nail on the head, and my mouth opens and closes without knowing what to say. I don’t need to say anything because he interrupts my floundering.

  “I think you’re thirty-six, you’re successful, and you’re ready for more than a few quick pumps of your dick into some divorcee. Maybe she’s exactly what you’ve been looking for.”

  “She’s twenty-six, an attorney for the DA’s child advocacy department, and should I repeat, twenty-six.”

  Dillon practically snorts before he speaks. “She’s an attorney and twenty-six. She sounds like a fucking catch to me. Plus, if you’re fucking her, I know she’s hot, so there’s that, too. Maybe you should make an effort with this one?”

  “What happened to the brother who was just encouraging me to go out tonight because all the women will be dressed slutty?”

  Dillon laughs. “Brother, you’re single and an old man.”

  I grunt and tell him to fuck off before I thank him for the call and we hang up.

  My brother has a point.

  Brooklyn is the only woman I’ve had in my home since I purchased it. She’s the only one that I’ve allowed anywhere near my personal life.

  I haven’t given her much of an insight into who I am, but she knows more and has seen more of me than anybody else in years.

  Then there’s the simple fact that I enjoy her. I like her as a person. She’s sweet and funny. She’s innocent and yet she’s a wild kitten.

  What feels like a sledgehammer slams against my head as the truth of it all, the reality of it immediately consumes me.

  “Fuck,” I curse.

  I like her.

  I like the way her amber-colored eyes spark when I’ve pissed her off, turned her on, or amused her.

  I like the way her plump lips turn up into an uninhibited smile when she laughs.

  I love her sweet body, and the way she can bend it to my will without protest.

  But beyond all of that, I just plain fucking like the woman.

  “Fuck me,” I whisper, closing my eyes.

  I really fucking like Brooklyn Myers, Esquire.

  Chapter Fifteen

  BROOKLYN

  It takes me longer than it should to shake off the bad mood from this morning. Lucas fucking Black and his gorgeous assholeness.

  I’m so irrationally upset about what he said to me. I’m not as upset with him as I am with myself.

  He’s made no secret that he only sees me as a toy. I see him as so much more, and I know I shouldn’t.

  Honestly, I’m disappointed in myself for letting it get to this point, is what I am.

  My computer pings with the sound of an incoming email. I click on the icon, hoping it’s Lillie since I haven’t heard back from her.

  I could really use a little something to pick me up after the morning I’ve had. It’s not her.

  The email is from the county, and it’s a list of the real estate holdings that Curtis Dunning and his wife own.

  There are a lot of them, and I’m surprised. I knew they had money, but I didn’t realize he owned so much property, and in so many different DBA names.

  It’s strange.

  I start combing through the building addresses and looking them up online. A few are businesses, but a lot are houses—single-family homes. Some are in nicer neighborhoods, and some are in not so nice neighborhoods.

  It’s odd.

  I don’t remember him receiving rent
as income for any of these places. I pull out the file of his bank records and try to find anything that looks like rental proceeds.

  There’s nothing.

  All of his income comes from his business, his deposits are directly from his company and nothing else.

  Checking the time, I decide to go to a few of them just to see if I can find out what is actually going on.

  “Hey, Kay, can I borrow your car this afternoon?” I ask.

  It’s already eleven-thirty, and I know Lucas will be finished in court any minute. I really don’t want to be here when he arrives, and this is the perfect excuse and opportunity to give him the slip.

  “Sure, honey, just be back by five. I have a meeting with my book club at five-thirty, and there’s no way I can be late for that.”

  I thank her as she digs her keys out, and I grab my folders, her keys, and my purse before I hurry outside.

  The sun is shining and I’m glad for its warmth today. I feel cold and sad on the inside, so the sun helps alleviate some of my dark mood.

  Kay has a sweet, black BMW two-door coupe, and I’m excited to give the luxury car a spin.

  Opening the door, I sink down in the seat and sigh at the feel of her leather seats. They aren’t nearly as nice as Lucas’, but they’re still about a million steps above my crappy car.

  I plug the first address into my phone’s GPS and start the engine. I probably shouldn’t go check this out, but there’s something bothering me about it.

  Something niggling at the back of my mind that says, this is just not right. Especially with all of the warnings Curtis’ mother has given me about her son being dangerous.

  The first house I arrive to isn’t in the best neighborhood, most of the houses are older and the yards a bit unkempt. But this house, it’s by far the worst looking one on the block.

  I park the car along the curb and look at the front of the green house. The stucco is falling off of the walls, the garage door is beat to hell, and the windows are all boarded up.