All About the D

by Lex Martin

  Finally, my eyes meet Malcolm’s, but his grim expression does nothing to give me hope.

  He clears his throat. “I’m guessing you know why you’re here.”

  Nodding, I take a deep breath and straighten my spine. Because while that photo was inappropriate, I’ve put a hundred and ten percent into my job. Had Gary not posted that lurid article, I would be poised to make partner, not sitting here about to get my ass handed to me.

  Bill Fleming, the jerkoff slave driver who’s been on everyone’s ass about billing, is sitting across from me. He drops a printout of Gary’s article on the table with all of the NSFW photos uncensored. My face flames when I see my hand wrapped around Josh’s naked body, a still from the video.

  My only defense—complete denial that the hand was mine—is dismantled when I realize the article has been updated to now include photos of Josh kissing me outside of his condo. Jesus, when were those pics taken?

  “Miss Mills, this is a violation of your professional ethics. What were you thinking? This”—Bill waves his meaty hand at the evidence—“this is a liability. A potential claim. We may need to notify our malpractice carrier.”

  Turning to Malcolm, I shake my head. “Sir, I apologize for any negative attention the firm has received due to my relationship with Mr. Cartwright. I should have recused myself from representing him once we began dating.”

  One of the guys on the other side of the table chuckles. “Dating? Is that what we’re calling it?”

  My head jerks. “Yes, we’re dating.” Ugh, why is it when men do anything sexual, they get a pat on the back, but if women do it, they get treated like whores?

  Never mind that they don’t bother asking if I’m the one in the nude photo.

  Because they don’t care.

  This is about appearances, and for all intents and purposes, that hand belongs to me whether or not that’s the case.

  Malcolm taps his pen and then sighs. “We’re going to need you to go on leave. I’m guessing you have some vacation time saved up.”

  Bill interrupts him and wags a finger at me. “Young lady, you can get disbarred for this. I’m sure they’ll investigate given the high-profile nature of the client.”

  I stop breathing, his words destroying me.

  When I finally lift my eyes and look to Malcolm, he says I should hand off my current cases to Nathan and Angela before the end of the day.

  Tears build in my eyes, and I fight like hell to keep them back. Because the last thing I want is for these men to see me cry.

  Bill sneers. “Do yourself a favor and break up with Cartwright. That will bode well for you when the bar is examining this whole distasteful situation.” My heart starts beating out of my chest, and the asshole continues. “Maybe it will keep you from being disbarred. But let me be clear that we’ll be working to spare the reputation of the firm since your name is already tainted. This is the brother of a senatorial candidate, for fuck’s sake.”

  Your name is already tainted.

  “Bill, calm down,” Malcolm says finally. “We don’t know the bar will investigate, Evelyn, but we have reason to take every precaution to protect the firm’s reputation. I don’t imagine this will go over well with our clients.” His lips tighten as he motions toward me. “At the end of the day, please leave your office keys. We’ll contact you when we’re ready to take the next step in this process.”

  I’m not being fired, but I’m being asked to leave my keys.

  You’re so fucked.

  My heel gets caught on the cracked sidewalk, and I only barely keep myself from landing face first on the pavement. Grateful I didn’t wipe out, I straighten my skirt and catch my breath.

  I’m so late to meet Josh. It took me a little while to pull myself together in the restroom at work, but now that I see my reflection in the window of the coffee shop, I know I’m a lost cause. My hair is windblown and my eyes are puffy and red. I wish this day would end already.

  Keep it together, Evie. Just a little longer. Things will be better when you see Josh.

  Wanting to avoid the line of people at the front of the restaurant, I take the back entrance. While I doubt everyone in Portland reads Gary’s posts, it might be prudent to try to keep a low profile.

  Bill’s words churn in my head. Break up with him.

  No, no fucking way. I would never abandon Josh at a time like this. Whatever happens, I’ll stick by him. I’m sure his family is giving him hell right now.

  Oh, God. My dad. I’ll have to tell him about Gary’s article if he doesn’t already know. He’s going to be heartbroken that my job is in jeopardy.

  Shoving all of those thoughts down, I pull open the back door to the restaurant. I glance around, trying to find Josh. It’s later than I’d hoped to meet him and the lunch rush is in full swing.

  I keep looking for Josh sitting alone, but every table is full. A woman’s laughter catches my attention, and I turn to see the back of someone who looks like Josh, but the man isn’t by himself. One woman is sitting across from him and two are standing at his side.

  As I get closer, I realize how incredibly beautiful they all are. They must be in their mid-twenties, and they’re decked out in full makeup and dressed like models.

  Lucky guy.

  The women are smiling and laughing. The girl standing next to him grabs his bicep and leans down to whisper in his ear.

  I start to turn away, but then their conversation makes me still.

  “Your blog is so hot, Josh. I’ve told all of my girlfriends to check it out.” And then my heart starts beating out of my chest when she leans across the table and adds, “I’ve ordered your toy, but I’d really like to demo the real thing.”

  Oh, fuck, no.

  Stalking closer, I watch this trainwreck in slow motion.

  Because him being propositioned in person by gorgeous women frothing at the mouth to sex him up is my worst nightmare.

  I want to laugh about how distressed I was this weekend over his inbox. Because that was a small brushfire. This… this is the whole goddamn forest burning to the ground.

  He clears his throat, and I wait for him to tell them he has a girlfriend—to say he’s involved with someone, to say he’s taken—but he just laughs awkwardly. “Thanks, ladies. It’s been a fun project.”

  Come on, Josh. Decline her come-on.

  I should wait to hear what he says, but rage is pulsing through my veins, making me want to grab these bitches by the hair and drag them away from him.

  No, Evie. He should be the one to walk away from these girls. This is on him.

  The women chatter on with him while he just sits there.

  I’m so pissed, I can’t stop myself. Stepping closer so he can see me, I wave my arm. “Yeah, Josh, you should give them a demo. I bet all three of these girls would love a free ride.” His head jerks back and his eyes widen when he realizes I’ve been standing two feet away for the last several minutes.

  “Evie. Sweetheart.”

  I only barely restrain myself from telling him to fuck right off. “I can see you’re terribly busy.” I motion toward his fangirls. “Please, don’t let me interrupt. We can handle your business via email when you have more time.”

  He starts talking and shaking his head no, but the pulse pounding through my ears prevents me from hearing a damn thing as I stalk away.

  33

  Josh

  My eyes focus on the thin zipper at the back of Evie’s beige skirt as she storms out of the coffee shop.

  My breath seizes in my throat, and the sounds of the restaurant fade to a dull nothing.

  Not pausing to button my jacket, I chase down my girlfriend, dodging waitresses with full cups of steaming hot coffee and a busboy loaded down with dirty dishes. I not-so-gently push past a group of hipster guys stroking their beards and talking in the aisle. They look at me indignantly as I run after her. I’m sure I threw The Coffee Pot into an uproar, and I don’t care.

  I need to get to Evie.

&nb
sp; Scanning the street, I spot her stalking away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. She’s hobbled by her high heels and tight skirt.

  “Evie!” I run and catch up to her, touching her upper arm.

  She spins around, and the hurt in her eyes hits me right in the solar plexus. It’s bad. She’s furious. And I’m not sure what, on the laundry list of things, is causing it now.

  “You!” she shrieks. “Get away from me! All those come-ons. All those women online, and now this! Do you even like me, or am I just the first woman who knew about your blog? Am I going to have to stand in line now behind your admirers?” Tears streak down her face, and my heart trips over itself.

  Her voice lowers to a whisper. “If those women in there are what you really want, please go. Just don’t pretend this means something to you if it doesn’t.”

  She bursts into incoherent sobs, and I step forward and wrap my arms around her tightly, feeling her shudder against my chest. She’s trembling so hard I worry she’s not going to stop. With one hand she holds on to me, her briefcase limp in the other. As she buries her face against me, her tears soak my shirt and break my heart.

  “Shhh,” I say as I press my nose to the top of her head and kiss it. I smell her familiar almond scent, which fills me with a longing to do nothing but be near her.

  Although… she’s acting completely crazy.

  Not that I blame her because today has been fucked up, but she’s wrong about what happened a few minutes ago.

  “Baby, I don’t give a shit about those women,” I murmur against her hair. “I’m overwhelmed too. I was sitting there, freaking the fuck out, waiting for you. Waiting to talk to you and figure out what to do. I could’ve been sitting with a two-ton elephant and not known it. I’m sorry you thought I was anything other than polite to those women. Causing you pain is the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

  I hold her close and let her shake against me, let my words sink in, let her get it out.

  I might have hired her to protect me, but I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she’s okay.

  Because, yeah, we’re in a lot of shit.

  As soon as we’re done talking, I’m headed to my parents’ house. Spencer texted that he plans to be there for my execution. And Evie needs to go tell Kendall off. That woman—PR, my ass—probably did more damage to my reputation than anyone ever could. Because who else would’ve spilled this secret?

  After a moment, Evie quiets down, and I glance around. We’ve attracted a small crowd. Her beautiful face is red and puffy, and mascara smudges dot the back of her hands—as well as my shirt, I’m sure.

  “Baby,” I whisper. “I’m parked right over there. Come on. Let’s talk in my car. I’ll drive you back to your office.”

  She’s shivering even though it’s summer. I take off my jacket and wrap it around her, and we hustle to my car. Thankfully we’re left alone.

  After she’s in, I skirt around to the driver’s side and turn the car on, silencing the radio.

  My eyes shift toward her before I pull out into downtown traffic. Misery is written all over her face, and it fucking kills me to see her like this. “Do you want me to take you home instead?” I ask softly.

  She shakes her head. “I have to go back and hand off some cases.”

  “Let’s give you a moment to calm down then.”

  Yes, we should talk about why she assumed I wanted to sit there gabbing with those women while I waited for her, but I’m grateful she stopped crying and don’t want to light that fire again. At some point, though, we’ll need to finish discussing it.

  As we circle around the narrow streets, skyscrapers rising all around us, I turn to her and say, as evenly as I can, “I really wish your friend Kendall hadn’t blabbed about my blog. I can’t imagine how many clients I’m going to lose.”

  Evie narrows her eyes at me. “You think that Kendall did this? Never,” she scoffs. “I trust her implicitly. There’s no way, in any version of the facts, that Kendall leaked this to the press. She’s better than that.” She pauses and shakes her head. “And I’m hurt you’d accuse her.”

  I take that in a moment before I speak again. She was just so chummy with that dickwad this weekend. “If it wasn’t Kendall, who could it be? The only people who know besides you, me, and Drew, are people at your office. Do you think the paparazzi could have infiltrated your law office and paid someone off? With my brother running for Senate, I’m half wondering if it could’ve been his opponent.”

  “No. I don’t. It’s not worth your job to divulge a client’s secrets.” She looks thoughtful. “Although this definitely benefits—”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. When I get back to the office, I’m going to ask around. I have some suspicions. I hope I’m wrong.” She rummages in her bag for her access pass as we pull up to her building. “Are you sure it couldn’t be anyone from your family? What if your ex found out? What if she identified you?”

  Fuck. That’s a possibility.

  I reach under my glasses and rub the bridge of my nose. “I’ll make a few phone calls. Right now I have to go face the firing squad.”

  “Firing squad?”

  “Family meeting.”

  After a moment of silence, she tightens her arms around her bag. “You should’ve told me about Gary’s article last week.”

  I blow out a breath. “I’m sorry. Last week was insane, and then last night kept getting worse and worse. I meant to mention it.”

  Nodding, she opens the door and sets a foot onto the curb.

  Reaching out, I gently grab her arm. “You going to be okay? How are things at your office?”

  Shit. I should’ve asked about that sooner.

  She turns, and I watch her profile, hating that she feels so far away. “Not well, I’m afraid. They never liked having a porn star as a client, and they certainly don’t like having one as an attorney.”

  The distance in her voice pins me back. I resist the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear. I let out a breath. We obviously need to cool it while this story is still so hot. Hopefully, some other scandal will break soon, and we’ll become old news.

  I slide my hand over hers and gut out some of the hardest words I’ve ever had to say. “I think the best thing to do is to stay away from each other for a while. Try to get a handle on our jobs. Figure out who leaked this story.”

  Internally, I kick myself for sounding so formal, but I don’t know how else to say it. I want the press to leave us alone and for her to keep her job. The media storm is just starting, and I won’t be doing her any favors if she’s seen with me. I’m the pariah, not Evie. She doesn’t deserve to go down with the ship. I know I’ll lose clients, but I don’t know how Evie will recover if she has to relinquish something she’s worked so goddamn hard to attain. It rips at me to think I’ve done this to her, put her in this position and made her suffer.

  Tears collect in her eyes, but she nods and hands me my jacket. “Goodbye, Josh.”

  I open my mouth to tell her that I love her, that this is only for a little while, only until the vultures are fed, but she’s out of my car and slamming the door before I can say the words.

  I shove my hands in my suit pockets as a shield and look around the room. Almost everyone is standing—my father, my paternal grandmother (really, Mom?), my brother Spencer and his chief of staff, my brother Henry, and his business partner. They’re all staring—or glaring—at me with expressions that range from disbelief to disgust.

  Not one of them thinks this is amusing. Not even my grandmother, who normally has a twinkle in her eye and takes my side. She’s always wearing a skirt suit, with pearls, a fluffy coif of silver hair circling her head. That Barbara Bush style hides a wicked sense of humor, thank God.

  But she looks grave now.

  A phalanx of six suited attorneys—I recognize them from my family’s firm—sit off to the side at a table, laptops open and briefcases out. Command central. They were typing furiously un
til I entered.

  Then silence.

  I tried so hard to keep this from them. To keep the reputation of the Cartwrights intact. And I failed.

  My mother, the general, paces in front of the troops, wearing a slim, pink skirt suit and sensible pumps.

  I correct my expression to one of impassiveness. Better get this over with.

  We’re gathered in the formal drawing room at my family home on the hill. It’s furnished with antiques, meticulously kept clean by our staff. The wallpaper is hand-painted, the Rothko painting the only nod to modernity. My mother’s summer roses fill the room with sweet fragrance, but I’m going to be sick. Previous generations of Cartwrights used this room for parlor games or planning new enterprises like world domination—or at least control of this entire city.

  No one has ever sullied their name like I just did. Not one Cartwright is a fuck up. Not one is a porn star.

  The low thrum of the helicopters outside reverberates through the old bones of the house.

  It’s a damn warzone outside. The curtains are drawn, but on the other side is a swarm of press waiting at the gates, here to get a statement from Spencer. Here to see the ever-coiffed Marjorie Cartwright way the fuck out of her element. Here to see my dick maybe? Who the fuck knows?

  Guess I’ve made my mark like the fam always wanted me to. Funny, I always thought Drew would be the one known for dicking around.

  I’d laugh if everyone didn’t look like I’d just infected them with the plague.

  Sighing, I scrub my face.

  I just hope Evie’s okay. The bodyguard detail won’t be able to get to her house for a few hours, but at least I know she’ll be protected.

  God, Evie.

  Is she going to lose her job because of this? Have I ruined her? If I hadn’t fallen for her, this wouldn’t have happened.

  No.

  This is happening because some motherfucker leaked my identity. And as a result, I’m the biggest breaking news story the Pacific Northwest has had in years.