by Jamie Knight
“You could try it,” Vicky suggested, tapping her chin again.
“What do you mean?”
“Wearing a scarlet letter. It would be an interesting, if somewhat brutal, statement.”
“It’s a thought,” I said, imagining my grandfather’s and great aunts’ shocked expressions.
“Or you could go anyway.” Vic reached down and slid the invitation back towards me with one extended finger. “A bit of pestering won’t be the end of the world,” she pointed out.
“No.” Defiantly, I shook my head.
Letting out an exacerbated little sigh, she continued. “And you want to support your cousin, right?”
“Well, yeah, I do.”
“And you’ve never really been one to be pushed around, have you?”
“Well —”
“When it really matters, I mean. You fought for our country in the army. You fight like hell for your clients. Staring down judges and opposing counsel, some of whom are truly nasty. Yet you do it, and you win.”
“Most of the time,” I amended, starting to wonder if Vicky should be a lawyer here. She was so good at arguing.
Raising her eyebrows, Vic stared into my face. “When was the last time you lost?”
“I really don’t —”
“Humour me. When was the last time?”
“October 28th,” I said grudgingly.
“You see? That’s not so bad.” She waved her hands triumphantly.
“2014,” I amended.
Vic laughed. “You see? A loss every six years isn’t so bad.”
“True,” I conceded.
“All you have to do is bring some of that badassery to bear with the relations.”
I sighed. “If only it were that easy. You haven’t seen my grandma when she’s disappointed. She’s all smiles and hugs with you and Jim.”
Sensing defeat, my sister-in-law sighed and slid into the brown leather chair in front of my desk. “Maybe you’ll meet someone at the wedding,” Vicky tried.
“Does that ever really happen?” A headache was coming on, reaching up, I rubbed my temples.
“You’ll never know if you don’t try. Or, if it is easier, you could bring someone to pretend to be your fiancé.”
We both laughed again.
Using a fake fiancé was becoming a normal way to meet the love of your life here at the Howell and Howell law firm. It had started with Vicky’s best friend from high school, whose husband now worked for my brother and me. Since then, two other associates had found romance that way — simply by asking or paying someone to pretend to be in love with them.
It was a weird twist of fate, but a part of me wondered if I could get it to work in my favor. I have been unlucky in love in the past. Maybe this was a crazy way to break the cycle.
“That does have a track record of success,” I admitted thoughtfully.
I knew that Vicky was half joking, but it would throw my relations off the scent for sure, and even if nothing else happened between my fake date and me, that would be a blessing.
The only question was where I could find someone to pretend to be my fiancé. It wasn’t like I could post an ad on Craigslist — well, I could, but I wasn’t that kind of crazy just yet. There still had to be a way to figure this out.
Chapter Two - Russ
L.A. traffic was hell. I had heard this before moving here but had always thought it was apocryphal. How wrong could one man be? After the second time of missing appointments, I started google mapping alternative routes. It took longer to get to work, but I liked to get up early, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.
I was starting at the bottom like all new hires do, but Howell and Howell was one of the top five legal firms in the country, so I tried to think of it as starting at the bottom section on the top peak of the pyramid. That made it a good enough reason to move to California. Plus, my sister had lived in L.A. for a few years. Her presence made the choice easier. It wasn’t like I was moving somewhere where I knew no one.
On the way into the office, I stopped by a burger place, personally recommended by my new boss, Jim Howell himself, that offered a Keto-friendly option — wrapping their burgers with lettuce rather than putting them on buns. I figured that was the cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast, double cheeseburgers with a chocolate shake. All the food groups covered, I embarked on the daring-do of eating while driving, steering a route I had been using for literally three days. Robbie Knievel couldn’t have done better.
Still chewing the second of my crunchy, meaty victims, I walked my way to the five-story red brick building that housed the Howell and Howell Law Firm from the miracle of a parking spot a mere three blocks away. An assigned spot in the company parking garage was still but a distant dream. One didn’t quite have to make partner to attain the level of free and secure parking but pretty close.
Unlike most such firms, Howell and Howell had no security to speak of, aside from cameras. This was likely to re-enforce the friendly, family feeling, which wasn’t hard to do. Most of the lawyers were married and/or had kids.
After taking the stairs, I dropped my briefcase next to the generously large wooden desk in my new office and sat down. There was a large window in my second-floor office, and I tried to ignore the view. Most people in L.A. would metaphorically kill for a corner office with a view. I honestly found it somewhat distracting, my passion for skylines being what it was. It would have been worse had there been a green belt anywhere in the immediate area.
The computer was a new model which contrasted sharply with the renovated Victorian office — despite desktops getting to be anachronisms in themselves. At thirty-five, I was still old enough to remember when they were one of the two models available before laptops took over. There was nothing like technology to make one feel ancient.
Sliding into my black, leather office chair, I switched on the computer. The work of the day involved a dubious copyright claim against a rock band. The accuser was trying to claim that one of their songs was a ripoff. After some digging, I had found the alleged composer making the claim was an ex-groupie of the lead singer, infamous for several similar stunts. The case would be thrown out quickly, and with that research done, I could move onto my next task of the day. I felt for the accused though, it’s never fun getting into a legal dispute with your ex. I had more experience with that than I ever wanted.
Trying not to think about my past, I decided to go for a pick-me-up. One of the advantages of working at this firm was that you didn’t have to wait for a coffee break to silence the caffeine monkey on your back.
The coffee here wasn’t even that bad, which was really saying something. In most offices I had worked at, one of the company coffee dispensers seemed to be specially designed to be disgusting. That was not the case here. The Howell siblings sprung for a proper espresso machine for when you were too busy to get down to the coffee shop next door.
Turn-of-the-century factories ran on tea. Howell and Howell ran on coffee.
It was a bit of a learning curve working out the controls on the big chrome contraption sitting in the designated break room, which was decorated with classy art reproductions and leather furniture. The firm was very posh. The more I was there, the more it became clear why hiring was so selective. Anyone would be dying to work in such a place.
The machine started its crafting cacophony, and I sat down. As I waited for the coffee to be done, Vicky, one of the assistants, came swishing into the room with that exuberant way of hers.
The vibrant redhead was one of the few coworkers I had gotten to know in the short time I had worked here, although I got the feeling it was almost impossible to not get to know the infamous Mrs. Howell. She was one of the chattiest people I had ever met.
“Morning, Russ,” Vicky said, going to the cabinets and grabbing a mug of her own.
“Vicky,” I said, staring at the floor, trying not to engage with her too much.
I wasn’t
exactly shy; I just didn’t want to get close to those I worked with. In my mind, there was no need to be friends. Work did not require learning the secrets of everyone’s lives.
“How are you settling in?” she asked, leaning against the counter. Apparently, Vicky was not going to be deterred by my lack of eye contact. Maybe she didn’t read body language very well.
“At the office?” I asked dumbly, still not looking up.
“I meant the city, but sure,” Vicky said. She gave me a little shrug.
Accepting that I was not going to get out of chit-chatting, I looked up at her. “Oh, right, pretty good. Damn if that chair in my office isn’t comfortable. The view is a bit distracting, but I can get some blinds.”
“Distracting?” Vicky asked, widening her brown eyes.
“Too pretty,” I said, followed by an awkward laugh. Most people would think I was nuts to say that, but I knew that I was easily preoccupied.
The assistant brought a single slim finger up to her chin. “I suppose I can see that.” She nodded thoughtfully.
“Don’t have a window?” I asked.
She sighed. “I spend most of my time in the copy room. The only glimpse I get of the outside world is when I go into Ann’s office.”
Ann Howell was one of the partners. She and Jim were brother and sister, something I found quite amazing. I loved my sister, but I wouldn’t own a company with her.
“You call her Ann?” I asked, shocked.
I had met Jim, but not Ann. She had a bit of a reputation for being extremely intelligent and extremely snide. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing in a lawyer or a boss.
Vicky laughed and shrugged at the same time. “Of course, she’s my sister-in-law.”
“Friends in high places,” I joked back.
“I guess.” Vicky gave me a grin just as the coffee maker finished. “What do you call her?” she asked, reaching out for me to hand her my mug.
“I haven’t actually met her yet, though something along the lines of your highness should do,” I joked.
After filling my cup, she handed it back over. “Yeah, I really don’t think that is needed. She’s really not the arrogant type,” Vicky pointed out.
“Brilliant and humble?” I asked gobsmacked.
“Pretty much, yeah,” Vicky agreed then took a sip from her mug.
“She must have tons of friends.”
It was an offhand comment that I meant to be a parting remark, but the way that Vicky looked at me stopped me in my tracks. Not sure if I was offensive or intuitive, I waited to see what her confused look was about.
“Interesting you should mention that,” Vicky said, topping off her cup again with the finished brew.
“How so?”
She crossed the distance between us, giving me a smile that could only be linked to a favor. “Ann has a wedding to go to but no one to take as a date.”
I wasn’t expecting that at all. Work relationships, especially one with the boss, was a boundary I wasn’t going to cross. To be honest, any relationships was a no go.
I shook my head. “I’ve tried blind dates before. I sometimes still wake up screaming. I am not looking for a relationship,” I said.
People were usually shocked when I said I wasn’t looking for a relationship. The assumption seeming to be that a good-looking, young guy like me should be settling down. I could see their point but wasn’t going to waver. Nor did I want anyone all up in my business.
“I understand that,” Vicky said. Her grin not changing much. “Though it still might be a good idea to meet with Ann. It can’t hurt to make a friend of a founding partner.”
“Your probably right,” I said, hiding my nervousness.
“Meet me in the conference room in twenty,” Vicky said, walking away before I could figure out an excuse not to go.
I was left standing in the break room with a rapidly cooling cup of coffee in my hand. A feeling hit me like my day had taken a bad turn, but I wasn’t sure why.
Chapter Three - Ann
I was back to trying to decipher the species depicted in Drew’s little statue. At present, all indications pointed towards some sort of wolf, which made sense. He had been obsessed with the famous fairy tale, big bad wolf for a couple of months. Which included hobbling around the house and trying to blow the walls down. A behavior that was more cute than destructive.
Work was slow, because of that, I had too much time to think. I had already stitched up my closing argument on my current case that would hand me the win on a silver platter. If only the same thing could be said for an option of who to take to my cousin’s wedding.
Dating was not my favorite pastime. After Drew’s father ghosted me, men just didn’t seem worth it. Sure, I was happy to have male friends. That was something that came easily after serving in the army, but my heart only belonged to my little boy.
It was crazy for me to think that the fake fiancé thing would work for me. I needed to just see this as a work agreement. If I could even find someone to go with me.
A knock at the door startled me out of my thoughts. I jumped, embarrassingly letting out a little yelp.
“Come in,” I called.
Vicky’s arrival was a bit of a surprise. I usually didn’t see her this close to lunch, which wasn’t official company policy so much as a personal quirk I had come to accept. I was fairly sure that she and Jim spent their lunches together.
“Ms. Howell?” she asked, disconcertingly formal.
“Yes, Vicky?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. Whenever Vic was this formal, it meant that she was plotting something.
Sure enough, she was trying to suppress a smile. Her hands were behind her back as well, another obvious sign that she was trying to be sneaky. “Can you come into the conference room, please? The new lawyer Jim hired wants to meet you,” she said.
Okay. This was obviously a setup. My sister-in-law had left my office for five minutes and already found someone to hook me up with. Typical Vic. I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes.
“Really? I thought Jim took care of all that.”
“Yes,” she confirmed, “Jim did, but Russ Ricci wants to meet you too. I think he might be a fan.” Her upper lip lifted slightly like she was holding back a laugh.
I sighed. “Really?” I asked again, somewhat skeptical and suspicious.
“I know, right?” Vicky said, still trying her best to play things cool.
“Alright, give me a minute,” I said, getting up and trying not to sound as agitated as I was.
Vic just grinned as I stopped in front of the mirror in my office to make sure my hair was in place, with the right side of my bob haircut tucked behind my ear, and that my navy suit wasn’t wrinkled. Even if this wasn’t the setup I suspected, it’s never good to look rumpled at a first meeting.
The conference room was just a few doors down. Vicky practically skipped, looking back to hurry me, while I just glared at her and walked with a more dignified pace. I was the boss here. I needed to project that no matter what.
The door to the conference room was open, and my breath caught when I saw him. The new hire was seated, turned slightly so he could look out the window. His posture was casual, but his presence still seemed to fill up the room.
I was surrounded by lawyers for the majority of every day. Some of them were even handsome, but this one was very different. There was something about Russ that could knock me down. Something I couldn’t quite identify. Maybe it was the dark brown hair and the chocolate brown eyes. Or possibly, it was the strong brow ridge with thick eyebrows that mirrored his full, square jaw.
There was a defiant look to the new hire's face like he wasn’t a man to be trifled with — a feeling his obvious Italian heritage was enhancing. With broad shoulders and visible muscles, he looked more like a mobster than someone working on my side of the law.
Something I could definitely identify — that hot body — was tightening my pussy
every time I looked him in the eye. I wanted to get to know Russ better in more ways than professionally.
“Ms. Howell,” he said, rising like I was a judge.
“Please, call me Ann,” I said, extending a hand.
Russ’s handshake was strong. His fingers were warm, and the pressure of his palm on mine sent a little shiver through my body.
“I hear that you need a date for a wedding,” he said, more awkwardly than I would have expected as he sat back down at the table.
“Oh, and where did you hear this?” I asked, staring hard at Vicky. She looked away, trying to act innocent. Part of me wanted to stamp on her foot, but another part of me was very pleased with her choice.
When I looked back at the hottie, he seemed confused — his hands twitched slightly on the table.
“You’re not looking for a date?” Russ asked.
I felt bad for making him uncomfortable, so I took the seat across from the broad-shouldered man. “I am, in a manner of speaking. I need someone to pretend to be my fiancé at my cousin’s wedding to deflect the questions and looks of the more conservative members of my family. Which is pretty much all of them,” I said, unable to stop myself. “You see, I’m a single mother. Most of them find that unacceptable.”
“I hear you,” Russ said, nodding slightly. I noticed that his big hands relaxed as he folded them.
“Really?” I asked, not expecting that.
“Yup, tenth generation Sicilian,” Russ confirmed. “Catholic and conservative by blood.”
“How many siblings?” I blurted out.
“Eight,” he said, without a trace of humor.
“Wow.”
“I’m the oldest too,” he added, leaning forward.
“How old are you?” I asked, then put a hand up over my mouth, realizing how rude I sound.
Russ laughed. It changed his whole face from hard and authoritative to disarmingly charming. “Just turned thirty,” he said.
We were even the same age! He was mature enough not to act like an idiot yet young enough to still be really sexy.