by Vivian Wood
Chapter Eleven
VIOLET
“He’s late,” I whisper twenty-four hours after David’s surprise meeting.
“Are you surprised?” She paces the floor. “I don’t know what David was thinking even telling us. Now we’re all wound up, trying to figure the mystery out.”
I shake my head, eager to run my fingers through my slicked-back bun. I wring my fingers. “It’s like my mind has been put into a blender.”
“Exactly,” Em says from her seat in my office. “And David’s the one who put it there. I can’t believe he’s not going to be our Managing Partner. I mean, who is?”
“Beats me,” I scoff. “This isn’t the best idea.” I snatch a pen off my desk, tapping it to my teeth. “Bringing a stranger in? Giving him the top spot? I wonder if I can plead with David to cancel, make him see that the integrity of this law firm is worth more than a spot in the sun.”
No matter how much I need that spot.
Truth is, the pressure is killing me. And our law firm needed the Chris Jackson case like a shot of adrenaline. The company had always been on firm ground, but we were competing with the best in the country.
Every case, every client won, was a battle against the best in business. I’d somehow turned into a magician in the last eleven months.
Pulling every trick out of my rabbit hat wasn’t hard, but I had to admit: my rabbit was getting a little long in the tooth.
I tap my silver pen against my teeth, contemplating my next trick when a small rapping at my office door matches the rhythm of my nervous knocking. The door opens, and David—seemingly flustered and out of breath—takes a step inside.
“Violet.” He looks right at me. “Emily.” He notices her. His voice lowers as he glances my way. “I need you to come to the Red Oak conference room.” His eyes flit to her and then back. “Just you, Vi.”
My heart stops. The mystery guest must be here.
David steps back out into the hallway, closing the door. I look directly at Em, biting my lower lip as she stands. She reaches the door before I do and when I follow right behind her, she throws it open, allowing me to stroll out, my chin high, my black pencil skirt and baby blue shirt flapping in the breeze I’ve created as I storm down the hallway, ready for anything.
Ready for anything but the man sitting down in the first seat in the conference room. Right in front of me.
I turn the corner and nearly trample into him. He sits with his stance wide, his large muscular body taking up half the room as he glances up and meets my gaze with his.
Cocoa-colored eyes stare back at me from the middle of a handsome face.
“Hello… Keats,” he says. He stands, and I can barely breathe. I lose what’s left of my already-choked voice, barely having the energy to cough. I stare up at him.
“What—What are you doing here?”
“Well, a minute ago,” the brown-eyed man comments, “I was sitting in my seat and now I’m standing here, talking to you.” His stormy eyes smile. “Would you like a seat?”
Seat? There are seats?
I can’t take my eyes off him, but I nod, wordlessly, allowing him to escort me into nearest office chair, my body brushing his as I move to sit down. Sparks shoot from every contact point, and I have to fight to keep my skin from shuddering. Not from the cold, but the heat—the pure fire that is this man’s broad chest.
It sweeps against mine briefly, but it is like a flame, kindling everywhere at the same time. I slide inside the softened seat, swallowing hard. I sweep an errant lock of hair behind my ear before speaking.
“Where’s David?” It almost feels silly asking. He smirks.
“He’ll be back. He just took a call.”
“Oh.”
“A call from a client.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“How are you?” he asks.
I wet my suddenly dry lips. “I’m fine.”
“You know,” he comments casually, “I went to the Rainbow Room.” He sucks his teeth briefly. “Not really my taste…but I can show you what is.” He shrugs. “Sometime.”
Just then, David turns the corner. He clears his throat as he waltzes into the room.
“Heath.” He throws a glance at the well-built man. “Oh, I see you’ve already met Violet.”
The small statement makes the man I know as Heath Sparrow smile. He looks my way.
“Yes.” His silken voice deepens. “Yes, I have.”
My heart is now a certified snare drum. It beats with a quick staccato rhythm and I cross my legs, hoping to calm the band currently playing beneath my breath. I can’t believe my own eyes and ears.
Heath Sparrow is the new Managing Partner? The man we’ve been expecting? A man I’ve insulted, snapped at…is now my boss? My eyes search the room.
“Is it just us?” I ask.
David sits. “No, Violet.” He looks at Heath. “Actually I’ve invited our other junior and senior partners on staff to meet with us. As you already know, our main decision-maker Fitzgerald Sparrow has been involved in a quite serious car accident, but he’s always entrusted me to make the best decisions for the firm…” He hesitates. “And I need my biggest team players to hold down the fort while speculation flies about the Chris Jackson case.” He motions to the man on his right. “And for Heath’s handling of it.”
Heath doesn’t smile. “Thank you, David.”
David’s eyes are cold. “You’re welcome.”
Another pair of footsteps join us. Soon, Bitchy Partner Number One enters the well-lit room, a smug smirk on her face. Joined by Asshole Partner Number Two, followed by Sarah Hardy, our head of Marketing.
They take the seats directly in Heath’s stoic line of sight, and before I can say a word, they are clamoring all over themselves to be the first to introduce his or her own royal highness, practically salivating at the chance to kiss Heath Sparrow’s notoriously well-formed ass.
Not that I’ve been looking that hard at his ass…
Bitchy Partner, of course, begins before anyone else.
She waves towards the front of the room. Like a kid introducing herself to the clerk at a candy store.
“Hi, I’m Kathryn. Kathryn Sandoval.”
Heath smiles. “Hello, Kathryn. Kathryn Sandoval.” Next to go is Seth and then Sarah.
Me? I’m sitting in the seat nearest Heath, trying not to pee in my pencil skirt.
My knees practically knock.
I’m almost close enough to reach out and touch Heath, and if I did… I’d remember what it was like to feel him two days ago. When he wrapped those thick fingers around my elbow. When his strong hands clasped over my skin, the heat of his large body running red-hot.
I squirm in my seat, and David claps his hands.
“Alright, everything good now? Now that introductions are over, let’s get to the nitty-gritty. With Fitzgerald’s longtime, uh, friendship with Chris Jackson and Jackson’s connections to this firm, there will be speculation. Rumors about our involvement in his new legal direction. Court appearances begin next week. Our calendar is going to be jam-packed—a tight one. We’ll be the center of the press for the next week. Kathryn, Seth…” His eyes search for them. “I’ll need you two on both, respectively. I want us to be firm. And Sarah, you’ll put the spin on this. And Violet…”
His eyes shoot to me. “You’ll help Heath learn the ropes, show him what this firm can do. Show him what working for the best law firm in Manhattan is like. Make him as much a part of this as possible.”
Heath sighs. “Way to make me feel at home, huh?” He looks at David. “Just a few days back in New York, and I’m already being dictated to.”
David stares at him, his blue irises blanking. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
The bigger man leans back in his chair. “Of course you didn’t, David. But then again you’re not the big boss at this firm…are you?” He stands. “So, here’s how it’s going to go.” He straightens to his feet. “We’re not going to take intervie
ws. Not going to give any morsels to the gossip rags or even the press. I’ll pick a person to handle all communication with the media. Someone very…” He shrugs, lifting his large shoulders. “Welcome-Wagon-y.”
He stands and grins, sweeping a hand over his thick, walnut-hued hair. The move tousles the carefully coiffed strands, and somehow with the mussed locks brushed aside, he looks even more handsome, his large hands grazing his strong jaw, his perfect fingers ruffling the dark hair of his shortened sideburns.
He turns and walks away. But when he reaches the door, he points at me. “And I choose Violet Keats to be that person.”
He walks the rest of the way out and we all watch him, our mouths hanging open, my own hanging just a little lower than everyone else’s as I realize that my tiny plan to help the firm start a civil case against the most corrupt businessman in New York just put the biggest law job I’ve ever had on the line.
Without thinking, I place my pen on the conference table and walk out. I head for the elevators.
Chapter Twelve
HEATH
She follows me. Just as I knew she would.
I’m in the hallway before I hear her footsteps. Once I hit the isolated, stretch of carpet right before the elevators, she grabs my elbow just as I grabbed hers forty-eight hours ago.
But unlike me, she drops my arm just as quickly as she grabbed it, her movements quick, her fingertips releasing my skin just as soon as she feels it as I were a fire-stoked stove—hot to the touch.
I spin to face her. But when I do, I regret it. Her face is full of shock…and rage. Righteous indignation shines like a beacon from her azure irises and their ocean-colored depths are on fire, a blazing blue liquid that threatens to scorch my very skin.
I fucking love it. I almost hate that I fucking love it because I can’t stop the stupid smile from spreading on my face. She’s so angry at me. Nobody gets this angry with me.
They’re always afraid like the typical LA groupie or rude. But never quietly incensed. Never this poised and professional beneath what could only be a boiling surface.
I called her out in front of the acting senior-most partner, and I don’t even know why I did it. I couldn’t help myself.
The beautiful redhead hisses at me. “Just what do you think you are doing?”
“What I came to do. Setting my terms.”
“From what I understand, that’s not what we agreed upon.”
“That’s what I agreed on.” I turn to her. “I told you I was here for family business.”
“Yeah, I know.” She throws up her hands. “Family business. Not this business though. My business.”
“You’re a relatively new employee of the firm, Violet. At the time I set up this deal, it wasn’t your business. I’m a Sparrow, Keats. You’ve known my business for a long time.”
She exhales with a breathy laugh. “I know your business, Heath. You don’t have to explain.” Her eyes narrow. “Your business with me? Practically leaving while the bed was still warm. Your business with that underwear model, which was flashed on every gossip rag at the grocery store. Your business with every woman you seem to meet. All the same.” She grins grimly. “Congratulations.”
My voice lowers. “My business has always been my own before. As for you and me? That was no different. But you knew that about me, didn’t you?” I level a hard stare at Violet and she grows silent. “You seem to think I like the publicity.”
“You mean the man walking around Hollywood award shows with magazine cover models hates the attention?” Her voice is dripping with disdain, and for the first time I see how she sees me. How she must have always seen me.
As another handsome face, lapping up the spotlight.
The thought makes me angry. Irrationally so. And I take it out on Violet, pushing my presence onto hers, approaching within inches to squeeze her body near the double doors of the elevator lift. I breathe into her face.
“You know nothing about me, Keats.”
She fires back. “Everyone’s about to know everything about you—if they didn’t know it already. Because of your father’s accident. Because of this coverage of the Jackson case.”
We stare each other down, our eyes locked and unwavering. Wavy strands of gingery hair slip out of the slickened bun she’s used to subdue her silky locks, and I fight the urge to tame them with my fingers, my frustration with her slowly melting into a different kind of heat—one that’s thick and hot and slowly sinking its way below my belt.
My eyes drift to her pouty lips and I instantly regret the decision. Her pink pout starts to shake.
The elevator opens. Violet jumps back.
“Whoops, sorry.” A cute brunette jumps out. “Vi.” She looks at the wide-eyed redhead and then me.
Violet’s reply is soft—surprised. “Em.” Her own eyes go wide and she blinks.
The perky brunette leans into Violet, her voice dipping low. “If you’re trying to have a private conversation, might I suggest you do it somewhere a little more…private?” She smiles up at me. “Carry on. Don’t mind me.”
She moves on, never glancing back and I sneak a peek over my shoulder, scanning the small hallway for anyone else. My gaze lands back on Violet.
“We need to talk. Privately.”
Violet glares back at me. “I’m at work.”
“And doesn’t work allow lunch?” I raise an eyebrow. “Trust me; this isn’t a trip to the Rainbow Room…though you had no trouble trying to defile my innocence.”
She puts her hands on her hips, and I fight the urge to grin. I glance towards the double doors again.
“Just…come with me,” I ask. No, I’m not even asking. I press the button. Several seconds later, the elevator opens up again, and I step inside, my stare daring Violet to say no. She looks at me, and for a moment, I think she might stand there at the threshold and tell me to “Go to Hell.”
But she doesn’t. At least not until she steps inside the elevator.
Cursing my name to high heaven, she settles in the small space beside me, and I have no choice but to stand there, taking her quiet wrath, smelling her sultry perfume and clenching my fists as her sweetened scent wraps itself around me and magically makes its way to my cock, which stirs.
The elevator hits the bottom floor and the doors jolt apart. Violet exits first, and with my usual defenses up and head down, I try to lead her out of the lobby and towards my waiting car outside. But the plan is shot to hell, shattered as a woman in a navy suit passes me…and recognizes me instantly. She points towards my face.
“You…you’re that guy! The guy from the news report. That Chris Jackson case,” she exclaims. Shit! I try to think of something to say. You’d think I’d be used to this fuckery by now, but my mind goes blank. I instead attempt to keep walking, but the shocked lady in the lobby won’t let it go. She starts to follow me, her mouth forming new words as she moves in my direction.
I feel someone else rush forward and my breath stops when I see that it’s Violet. She steps over, interrupting the wide-eyed woman.
“Guy?” She glances over her shoulder. “Guy? What guy? Oh you mean the pizza delivery guy.” She glances up at me. “Riiiiight.” She places a hand on the stranger’s arm, lowering her voice as she leans in. “Ma’am, your Sausage-Cheese-and-Please-Shut-Up pizza will be right on its way up. And you want it to be hot and ready?” She pats the woman’s shoulder. “Don’t you?”
We keep walking and the woman purses her lips. Other people in the lobby are starting to ogle, but before they can put too many of the pieces together or comment out loud, we’re practically rushing through the revolving front doors, hitting the sidewalk as a gust of winter wind comes blowing our way.
At eleven AM, the downtown streets are still relatively empty, but they won’t stay that way for long. I look for my town car and see that my car is nowhere to be found. Where the hell is good help when you need it?
I grapple for my cell.
“Is it me or is Manhattan col
der than fucking ever?” Violet bunches against the cold. “Looks like we avoided a scene, after all.”
I listen to the driver’s phone ring on the other line. I come closer to her. “You have no idea. That woman in there probably just tweeted about us in the lobby. Fifty extra people will make their way over from wherever they were… Maybe even more. This is the life of a person in the limelight.” I hike up my shirtsleeves. “This is the life that you’re going to have to get used to from this moment on as the biggest criminal case since OJ hits TV screens.” I tilt her chin slightly with my finger. “Are you ready?”
“No.” Her response is quick-fire fast, and I smirk.
She looks as if she’s ready to say something when a thickening crowd starts to show up, filing directly our way. I grab her and walk, crunching her body into mine. I look at the sidewalk as if my life depends on it.
“Keep your head down and your eyes straight ahead.”
“What…”
I hear Violet gasp in my ear, her body slightly shaking. The crowd on the street turns into a sea of faces, all staring at us and before the sea can swallow us, a car comes screeching around the corner, sliding to a stop.
The black town car honks twice and I part the talking ocean around me with Violet in my arms, my jaw pressed to her hair as I escort her towards the edge of the sidewalk, open the door and thrust her inside the backseat of the colossal car. I slam the door shut and run to the other side, hopping in just as the real photogs start to show on the scene.
The town car driver speeds off, leaving a trail of engine dust and disappointed gawkers behind us. I lean back in my seat, exhaling. I look over to find Violet’s eyes on me. She gapes.
“You set me up,” she sighs. “You knew this would happen.”
“Knew it? Yes. Planned it? No.” I sit up straight, glaring at her. “That’s just what happens in my world, and you’re asking to be a part of it.”