by Kendall Ryan
Once Bailey and I have said our good-byes and I’m in the privacy of my own car, I pull my phone from my purse and press the call button next to Teddy’s name. He picks it up right before the call goes to voice mail.
“What’s up, Sara?” His voice still has that same nervous tinge from the night of the auction, but now it’s paired with a hint of sleepiness that I find strangely appealing.
“Did I wake you up?” I ask, eyeing the time on my car stereo. It’s almost eleven a.m.
“It’s my morning off,” he says. “But no worries. I was going to get up soon anyway.”
I roll my eyes, biting my tongue before I can tease him about sleeping so late. If it were any other day, I would show no mercy in ragging on him for his laziness, but there’s no time for that right now. We need to cut to the chase and get to work.
“Get a pot of coffee going, would you? I’m coming over, and I have a feeling that neither of us are going to be getting much sleep the next few nights.”
Teddy’s chuckle is soft and suggestive. “Is that so, baby?” His voice is dripping with sexual undertones.
Seriously? He’s going to be flirty with me at a time like this? I scoff, ready to hang up on him, but then he backtracks.
“Wait, I’m sorry. Habit. I’ll knock it off. Promise.”
“That’s more like it,” I snap.
This isn’t going to work unless he treats this as a professional relationship between lawyer and client. Especially because hearing his raspy voice call me baby stirred up something between my legs that I’ll never admit to. And that’s a road we can’t afford to go down because it’s what got us into this trouble in the first place.
Just like I told Bailey, nothing good ever comes from mixing work and play.
It’s a short drive downtown to Teddy’s place, but it always takes a while to find parking. It’s probably the only downside of his apartment. In the heart of the city, between all the best clubs and restaurants, stands the glass-and-steel skyscraper he calls home. Thirty floors of Seattle’s wealthiest, with Teddy’s place at the very top.
I’ve been here plenty of times before for poker nights, but my jaw still drops a little every time I step into the sleek, all-white lobby. The white marble floors sparkle beneath my tan espadrilles as I walk up to the counter and slip security my driver’s license, letting them know who I’m here to see. They check my credentials and buzz up to confirm with Teddy that he’s expecting company before handing back my identification and ushering me toward the private elevator that leads to the penthouse.
That’s right. Penthouse. With a salary well over six million a year, Teddy King cuts no corners when it comes to his luxury lifestyle.
As the elevator surges upward, the details of this hacker problem start to come together in my head. Of course. I’ll bet whoever is torturing him via email thinks that Teddy will drain his bank accounts to make this little problem go away. Which he could do. Not that it would stop this creep from leaking the video regardless.
The elevator doors part to reveal Teddy’s immaculate apartment, which he definitely doesn’t clean himself. I don’t see him right away, but I hear him walking across the inviting gray hardwood floors. I step off, slide out of my shoes, and set them aside, then pad across the fluffy white area rug and into the kitchen, following the sound of his steps.
There, standing in nothing but a pair of black athletic shorts, is Teddy, pouring coffee into two identical white ceramic mugs.
Even with my side view of him, I can still see the way those shorts are barely hanging on to his trim hips, showing off the shadows of his six-pack and the defined V leading down to the one part of him I’m a bit more familiar with than the rest of our friend group. Although they still don’t know that. And I’d like to keep it that way. That’s just one of the many things we need to discuss today.
“I hope you still drink your coffee black,” he mutters, shooting me a sideways glance and a smile. “Because I’m all out of creamer.” The muscles in his arms ripple and contract as he sets the coffeepot down, then rakes his fingers through his bed head.
Screw him for not putting on a shirt before I got here. I’ve already spent plenty of my day distracted by him and this sex-tape situation. Now I have to try not to stare at his abs too? I weigh the option of asking him to put on a shirt, but that would mean acknowledging the fact that I noticed how damn good he looks. So I guess it’s time to implement a little self-control.
“Black coffee is great.” I sigh, locking my gaze on the top of his head. “I just need something to keep me alert while we discuss your case.”
He hands me my mug, then grabs his own before taking a seat on a bar stool. “So you’re saying you’ll be my attorney?”
I nod, perching on the stool next to him as I let the coffee hit my lips. It’s strong. And so am I, for keeping my eyes level with Teddy’s. “Yes, I’ll be your attorney. But I have a few conditions. The first of which is a promise from you that you’ll keep quiet about this.”
He narrows his emerald eyes at me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I don’t want our friends, or anyone else for that matter, to know any details about this situation. I just had brunch with Bailey, and it was a battle not to tell her. But I think it’s better if we handle this ourselves without having to answer millions of questions from our friends.”
“Shit.” Teddy looks down into his coffee mug, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s kind of too late for that.”
Oh shit. My stomach tightens as a combination of worry and anger builds inside me. “Oh my God, TK. Did you already tell the guys?”
“God, no, I’m not that dumb,” he says. “The guys don’t know a thing. They would never let me hear the end of it. But I did tell someone. The head of PR for the team.”
The knot in my stomach loosens a bit. “Oh. Okay,” I whisper, steadying my breath. “That’s not quite as bad.”
“It seemed stupid not to. It’s literally her job to deal with shit like this. And this has got to be one of the worst public relations nightmares in the history of the Ice Hawks franchise. Or at least it will be, if that tape gets out.”
“The tape won’t get out,” I snap. “It can’t. We’ll both be ruined if it does. Which is another reason why I didn’t want you telling anyone.” I can feel my grip on my mug getting tighter and tighter, so I set my coffee down. Maybe I need to lay off the caffeine a bit.
“It’s gonna be okay. Breathe for me.” Teddy puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder, and I feel the tension instantly drain from my body. He still has a calming effect on me, even after all these years. “I didn’t tell her it was you in the video. But I did tell her I wanted to hire you as my lawyer. I was firm in that, even though she seemed to think I should use the team lawyer.”
My lips tighten into a frown as I think his words over. “She might be right. The team lawyer knows the Ice Hawks’ legal guidelines inside and out. And there’s something to be said for a lawyer who can be more objective. Someone who isn’t . . . personally involved in the matter.”
“No way.” Teddy shakes his head. “I don’t want to use the team lawyer. That guy doesn’t give a shit about me the way you do. I know you’ve got my back. And you’ve got skin in the game.” He pauses, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Literally.”
I shrug his hand off my shoulder and fold my arms across my chest. “I thought you said you’d knock off that sexual innuendo stuff.”
He sets his coffee on the counter, putting his hands up in front of him in surrender. “Look, I’m trying here. The point is, I know how driven you are. And there isn’t another lawyer in the goddamn world who wants this scandal buried more than you do.”
I chew nervously on my lower lip. “You’re right about that.” With one last deep breath, I hold out my hand and he slaps his into it, giving me a firm handshake.
“So, what now?” he asks, looking at me with expectant eyes.
“Well, first,” I smirk, “how about yo
u let go of my hand and show me this email?”
He gives my hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it, and then lifts his mug to his lips.
Oh God . . . I hope we can do this.
No, there can’t be any hoping.
We have no other options. We must get this done.
4
* * *
Crossing T’s and Dotting I’s
Sara
It’s seven a.m. on Monday morning, and the smell of printer ink and stale coffee is like a warm welcome back. Well, for me at least.
I know most people can’t wait to leave work at the end of the day, but there’s something about the Carroll and Associates office that feels like a second home to me. Maybe it’s because I’ve been working here since I was an intern before my senior year of college. The fact that I spend more time here than I do at my own apartment may also be to blame. Whatever the reason, the buzz of the paralegals making copies and the legal associates clicking their red pens is soothing to me. It’s a reminder that, unlike at my apartment, I’m not alone.
“Good morning, Sara.” David Carroll, the managing partner of the firm, gives me a slight wave as I walk by his office. David has spent the last thirty years building his reputation as the best defense attorney in the city. My first summer interning for him, I was shaking in my heels out of sheer intimidation. But after I graduated law school at the top of my class, he immediately reached out with a job offer. Since then, I’ve considered him a mentor and a friend.
“Good morning, David. Happy Monday.”
I return his wave but quickly move along to the break room for a cup of coffee. He’s too busy for office chitchat, and I’ve got a full caseload too. Especially now that I’ve agreed to take on one more client, one I have a personal interest in.
Once I settle into my own office, I boot up my computer and review my case files, determining what needs my attention first. While I know I should be practical and address some of my cases with harder deadlines, I know I won’t be able to get any other work done until I tend to the one client I can’t get off my mind—Teddy.
I pull up the email Teddy forwarded me and read it over to refresh my memory of the details of this threat. The hacker didn’t mention anything about money in the email, but I know it’ll be brought up the second we respond. No doubt about it. Any weirdo behind a keyboard trying to ruin somebody’s life has got to be in it for a profit.
I take a deep breath, roll my shoulders back, and crack my knuckles. All right, Sara. Time to write a cease-and-desist letter. Something I’ve done a hundred times before.
Just because my ass is on the line—my bare ass, literally on camera, in this case—doesn’t mean this process is any different. It takes a few rounds of edits to craft something that perfectly balances the legal jargon with an underlying sense of “don’t mess with me, I mean business,” but the final product is something I’m proud to hit SEND on.
Once the letter is sent, I pull up the firm’s list of go-to private investigators and draft an inquiry email to the first name on the list. A cease-and-desist letter will hold this anonymous creep legally accountable, but it won’t make him drop everything and forget the whole thing ever happened. If we really want to keep this video from getting out, we have to find this guy and hold him to every letter of the laws he’s breaking.
The PI responds to my email right away, giving me a recap of his impressive background in cyber security. Perfect. He’s hired. This creepazoid hacker is going the fuck down.
Okay, cease and desist? Check. Private investigator? Check. What’s next?
Normally, this is the part of the process where I would draft an extensive email to the client, informing them of where we stand on all matters. But this is Teddy. I’m not even sure he’d be able to process half the legal jargon I would throw his way in a professional email. I’d better just give him a call.
I shut my office door, then tap Teddy’s contact on my phone screen. He picks up on the first ring.
“Did we catch him?”
I roll my eyes. What does Teddy think lawyers do for a living? Chase down bad guys like dogcatchers from old cartoons?
“No, Teddy. We didn’t catch him. It’s a little soon for that. But I sent a cease-and-desist letter, which basically means this creep knows you’ve got legal representation and we want him to knock it off.”
The line is silent for a long moment, and when Teddy finally says something, he sounds annoyed. “Does that even do anything? Of course he knows I want him to knock it off. Or her. Whatever. When do we get to the real stuff?”
I have to physically bite my tongue to keep from snapping at him. “Teddy, I’m in the process of hiring a private investigator. It’s only been two days, and there are a lot of t’s to cross and i’s to dot. Just know that we’re doing all the right things to stop the world from seeing this video. I promise. I want this stopped as much as you, so don’t think that I won’t be working my ass off to make sure it’s never seen by anyone other than us, and the creep who’s got his hands on it.”
A queasy feeling tugs at my gut, reminding me that if Teddy had kept his promise all those years ago and deleted the video like he said he would, we wouldn’t have to stop anyone from seeing this video. But unfortunately, that’s not the reality we’re living in. And living in a fantasyland of what-ifs isn’t going to stop our sex tape from going viral.
“All right, I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just anxious about it. I was shit today at practice. It was like I’d never worn a fucking pair of skates before. I can’t seem to focus on anything but this.”
Although Teddy can’t see me, I nod in agreement. “Trust me, you’re not the only one who is super distracted by this. But I’m doing everything I can. What you can do in the meantime is put some money on retainer for my services. I can have my assistant email you the details.”
“Got it. I can do that.”
A lump forms in my throat at the determination in his voice. I know he wants to do more to help, but there’s really nothing he can do. “I need to go. I have other cases that need my time.”
“Of course, Sara.” His tone is suddenly calm and sincere. “Seriously, thank you for this. Thank you for everything. I know I’m freaking out, but I couldn’t do this without you.”
The sweetness in his voice sends a familiar tingle dancing up my spine. I remember that tingle. I used to get it all the time when Teddy and I studied together. I haven’t felt it since.
“You’re welcome, TK. Let’s touch base tomorrow.”
After we hang up, I set my phone to DO NOT DISTURB and slip it into my purse. Now that I’ve got that out of the way, I need to seriously focus. I’ve got a case set to go to trial in a few weeks, and an endless amount of preparation work I need to get done.
I spend the rest of my day buried in that case, drafting memos and email correspondence with the client until I can’t feel my fingers anymore. It’s a miracle I don’t have carpal tunnel yet with the percentage of my day I spend typing.
As the room turns a bit colder, a sign that the sun is setting behind the Seattle skyline, there’s a knock on my office door. I must have forgotten to open it again after my call with Teddy earlier.
“Come in!” I call, and in walks David, carrying his briefcase in one hand and pushing his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose with the other.
“Working hard?” he asks, one eyebrow raised. “You haven’t left your office all day. I was starting to think you must have fallen asleep in here.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “The opposite, actually. I haven’t had a moment of downtime all day.”
“Well, a few of the partners and I are going to grab a drink to celebrate that O’Bannon case finally wrapping up. I wanted to extend that invitation to you.”
My heart leaps in my chest. An associate being invited to happy hour with the partners is practically unheard of. Turning down this invite isn’t even an option.
“I wouldn’t miss it.” I smile,
turning my computer off for the night. There will always be work to get done, but an invite to a partners-only happy hour is a rare opportunity.
The cocktail lounge down the street from our office is packed as usual with people from all sectors of corporate America, each of them trying to take the edge off the workday. David leads me to the back, where the other partners are already gathered at a table, most of them sipping dark liquor.
“Sara Dawson.” One of my colleagues clucks his tongue, his eyes lighting up with surprise. “I don’t think I saw you all day. Did you get trapped underneath a stack of case files?”
My lips form a tight smile. “Maybe not physically, but definitely metaphorically.”
Everyone at the table laughs in response, and any anxiety I had about this happy hour dissolves as I slide into one of the open seats. These men have become like family to me over the years. They want to see me succeed. And someday, in the not so distant future, I won’t be the only odd woman out at this table.
Well, I’ll still be the only woman. But I won’t be an associate anymore. I’ll be a partner.
Normally, thinking about being the first female partner of the firm makes me over-the-moon happy. So, why is there an insane tightness in my chest all of a sudden?
It takes me a second before it clicks.
Oh, that’s right. There’s still the matter of a certain career-ruining video that could stand in my way.
I’ve been steadily climbing the ladder to partner for the last few years. But if that video surfaces, I have a feeling the ladder will be knocked down underneath me before I can catch my grip.
The first female partner at a top firm being tied to a sex tape? Never in a million years. I’d be surprised if I could ever work in law again after that. And then what? All the years of late nights in the office and going home to lonely microwave dinners for one would be for nothing. I would have wasted the best years of my life chasing something, only to have it all snatched away from me. Just because of one stupid decision I made when I was twenty.