Three Sweet Nothings (Blindfold Club #5)

by Nikki Sloane

  Julius was already seated in the tiered leather seats facing the sloping window. He looked at ease as he stared at the field, and I wondered how many times he’d seen this view before.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “You made it.” Julius came to his feet and gave me a strong handshake. He was a bear of a man, who could look intimidating if you didn’t know him. His dark skin had a sheen on the dome of his shaved head, but when he flashed a warm smile, it became contagious.

  I’d helped him through negotiations with the FBI. His club continued to operate under the FBI’s supervision, and as long as he fully cooperated, he received immunity, along with all of his staff. Including my sister.

  Once his case was over, he’d stopped being a client and had become my friend. Payton had been right; it was impossible not to like Julius.

  When he sat, I took the empty seat beside him. “You and Tariq must be tight.”

  His face took on a strange cast. “Yeah, these are actually Court’s tickets.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “Courtney Crawford.” Julius’s pause wasn’t dramatic, but caught my attention. “She’s, uh, Tariq’s wife. She said she wasn’t going to use the tickets, so he gave them to me.”

  A game against the Packers? “This is a big game to miss.”

  “Yeah.”

  What he didn’t say, and how he looked off in the distance, spoke volumes. Was trouble brewing in the Crawford marriage? There was more to the story there, but I didn’t ask.

  We kept the conversation light and focused on the game. When the first quarter was coming to a close, Tariq flattened a running back and sprung the ball loose, sending all the players scrambling for recovery. The suite erupted in shouts, but Julius’s was the loudest.

  “Do you miss playing?” I asked when the roar in the crowd finally receded.

  “Nah. Maybe, but then Tariq talks about two-a-days, and fuck that. Or Court will text how he comes home looking beat to shit.”

  Julius made a face and took a long sip of his beer, as if trying to shut himself up. What was this reaction? He didn’t want me to know Tariq’s wife had texted him?

  I should have left it alone, but I was curious. “How come she’s not here?”

  “She . . .” He sighed. “Ain’t a secret, I guess. It’s not working between them anymore.” He glanced around the room, checked that no one else was listening, and leaned closer, his voice going low. “Tariq’s my boy and all, but she can do better.”

  The picture snapped into focus.

  “Holy shit, Julius,” I whispered, stifling my grin. “I’m guessing Tariq doesn’t know, or he wouldn’t have given you the tickets.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You want to fuck his wife.”

  Chapter

  THREE

  Julius could say whatever he wanted, but his dark eyes went enormously white, and it confirmed my suspicions.

  “No, man, it ain’t like that!” Once again, his gaze swept around to make sure we were safe. “She’s just a friend.”

  “Yeah, a friend you want to stick your dick in.”

  I probably shouldn’t have teased him. He was humongous, and I’d seen what he could do when he put power behind his fist. Former Congressman Bennett’s jaw was likely still wired shut. But I believed Julius was a gentle giant.

  “Fuck you, Kyle.” His voice was warm. “Yeah, I wished she’d noticed me instead of him at OSU, but it’s a done deal.” He took the last sip of his beer. “She’s off limits.”

  Was he relieved to have his secret out? It felt good he’d shared it with me, and I wasn’t going to tease him further. Instead, I stood. “You want another beer?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Discussion between us was relaxed up through halftime, even as the Bears fell behind on the score. Courtney Crawford had been a cheerleader at OSU, and Tariq had staked his claim on her before Julius got a chance. He’d been carrying the torch for her a long, long time.

  “So, man, I gotta ask,” Julius said. “No lady for ya?” He made a face like he was displeased with his assumption. “Or guy?”

  I chuckled. “No, no woman on the horizon right now.”

  “I wondered,” he said. “Taylor came at you hard at Payton’s wedding, but you didn’t go for her.”

  Taylor, one of Payton’s coworker friends had been beautiful, as all of Julius’s girls were. At the time, I hadn’t known what she did, but I’d pretended I was immune to her non-stop flirting. “She’s nice, but she was . . . a lot.”

  I didn’t have anything nice to say, so I wasn’t going to. It’d been clear after the first thirty seconds Taylor and I had nothing in common, and the attempt at conversation became painful.

  The leather seat squeaked as I shifted in it. “Since I got back from New York, it’s been a challenge meeting women I click with.”

  “Why’d you come back?”

  I still hadn’t found a convincing lie to tell about it. I stared at the man beside me, whose dark eyes were curious and free from judgment. I could tell him. I’d figured out his secret, and he’d seemed relieved. Maybe sharing with him could do the same for me.

  “There was a woman I got involved with. I thought it was just sex, but she thought it was . . .”

  “More,” he said, nodding.

  I put emphasis on it. “A lot more.”

  Sharon had thought it was the jewelry in a little black box kind of more, which I couldn’t have been further from. I understood loyalty and commitment, but what we had wasn’t in the same ballpark as love.

  “We messed around for a few months. When the fun began to fade, she upped her game, and said she’d do anything I was into. I’d been curious about . . . well, shit. The kind of things that go on at your club. So, when she offered to let me explore that, like a fucking idiot, I took her up on it.”

  “That don’t sound like it went well.”

  Even though I knew he wouldn’t bat an eye, it wasn’t information I liked volunteering. “I bought a kit off of Amazon, like handcuffs and toys. Don’t judge me.”

  He flashed a smile. “She wasn’t into it after all?”

  “No, she seemed to be. I mean, she said she was, during.” I paused, remembering my confusion afterward. “I thought we had fun, and that’s all it was. In the morning, she pulled a one-eighty. It had been a tactic on her part, and she was really fucking pissed when I explained we weren’t on the same page.”

  The memory of Sharon’s words echoed in my mind. “I endured your stupid fetish for nothing?” she’d yelled at me.

  Fetish?

  All I’d done was spank her a few times and used some dirty phrases. That night wouldn’t have even earned the #hardcore tag had it been a porn video.

  “When Sharon didn’t get the commitment she wanted, she lost it. She said what I’d done to her made it too difficult to continue working together.”

  “Oh, shit.” Julius sobered. “You worked together?”

  “Yeah. She was a senior partner at the law firm I worked at. Basically, she was my boss.” I picked at the label on my beer. “I knew it was stupid to get involved, but I did it anyway.” It was painful to admit. “I fucked up, big time.”

  For a long moment, he was quiet, as if contemplating.

  “It happens,” he offered, his voice sincere.

  “Sharon blacklisted me as revenge. Finding another job at a decent firm was impossible.” I left out the part where I’d been forced to retaliate, and rather than have her reputation sullied, Sharon paid me to leave New York quietly.

  I had slinked back to my parents’ firm and tried to be grateful for the job, but it was a struggle.

  What wasn’t a struggle, was hanging out with Julius. Conversation rarely lapsed, and when it did, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. We grimaced together as the Bears fell further behind in the score, and took turns groaning about the officiating.

  “Gotta ask,” I said, late in the fourth quarter, “what are you going to
do about Courtney if and when she’s a free woman?”

  “Nothing,” he said, resigned.

  “Because of Tariq?”

  “Nah. Tariq’s not good enough for her,” his expression was serious, “but I ain’t either.”

  Tuesday felt like a Monday, and I had to get a second cup of coffee to get me going. I was walking back from the coffee maker when I glanced at the conference room at the center of the office suite.

  It was all glass. A strategic design, in case the firm ever became outnumbered during a discovery or deposition and needed to call for reinforcements. My father sat across the large table, his arms crossed on the tabletop, and leaned forward to listen to the woman sitting on the side opposite him. I couldn’t see much of her other than her blonde hair that was cropped short.

  Usually he met clients one-on-one in his office which was designed to impress and intimidate. I took a detour through the front lobby.

  “Why’s my dad meeting in the conference room?” I asked the administrative assistant who manned the desk.

  “He has a client in his office, so he had me put Ms. Crawford in the conference room,” she said. “She actually asked for you, but your father said you were full and he’d handle it.”

  “Courtney Crawford?”

  The assistant nodded.

  “The fuck he will,” I muttered under my breath.

  I moved as fast as my full cup of coffee would allow and pulled open the door, catching my father’s attention. He scowled, but I jerked my hand to the hallway, giving him the signal, “We need to talk out here.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, rising to his feet. “Please excuse me for a moment, Ms. Crawford.”

  She turned her head, giving me a view of her profile, and if I wasn’t so fucking pissed at him, I might have grinned. Oh, she was cute. The image of Julius pining after this petite little white girl was so sweet my teeth almost hurt.

  Dad waited until the door closed before speaking. “What is it?”

  “That’s my client you’re meeting with.”

  He had the nerve to look confused. “It’s another divorce case. I thought you wanted your pick so you could avoid them.”

  Bullshit. This was a high-profile divorce. Tariq Crawford was worth millions, and if there wasn’t a prenup? My father was trying to poach from his own son, and I narrowed my eyes. It was funny how work always came first with my parents over family. I felt compelled to remind him it was the same for me. “She asked for me by name, Robert.”

  “I was just trying to do you a favor.” He balked at me using his first name, but I wanted to reinforce our professional line.

  “Okay, thanks, but I’ve got this.”

  He shook his head and put his hand on the door, signaling he was going back in. “It’s fine. I’ve already started with Ms. Crawford. Tell you what, you can take a look at the client list for—”

  “I won’t do the New Year’s fundraiser.”

  He stopped dead in his tracks, the door open a few inches. He pushed it back closed and turned to me, anger flashing in his eyes. “I don’t like being threatened.”

  “Yeah? You’re in the wrong job, then. I don’t like clients being stolen from me.”

  The ensuing argument probably played out in his head just as it did mine, while we stared at each other wordlessly. He wouldn’t win, and the moment he knew it was clear on his face. He pressed his lips together and drew in a deep, resigned breath.

  I followed him into the conference room and waited as my father introduced me. Courtney had big blue eyes and long lashes, giving her a doe-like look. Her blonde hair was swept aside. Minimal makeup, or artfully applied to look that way.

  “Well,” my father said, collecting up his tablet, pen, and paper. “I apologize you’ll need to go over this again with Kyle, but you’re in good hands.”

  I set down my cup of coffee and sank into the seat. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Crawford. I’m told you asked for me?”

  She nodded, fidgeting with her hands. Her ring finger was bare, which was a good sign for me. It was hard when the client hadn’t come to terms with what was going to happen.

  “Julius,” she said. “He told me you helped him with some legal issue a few months ago.”

  The blank expression said she had no idea what. She didn’t know what Julius did for a living? His comment about not being good enough for her made a lot more sense.

  “Yes, I did,” I said. “But I can’t discuss that. What can I help you with?”

  Her eyes grew wet with tears, but she blinked them back. “I need a divorce attorney. A good one.”

  I smiled and hoped it was sincere without being cocky. “Perfect. I’m both.”

  Chapter

  FOUR

  RUBY

  How the fuck did my glasses always get so dirty? I rarely wore them. I’d forgotten to order contacts and torn the last pair I owned this morning while trying to put the left one in. Fuck my life. The black rimmed glasses were cute, but cheap.

  I was still polishing them during the elevator ride up, then into the opposing firm’s lobby, and all the way to their conference room. The smudge would not come off, and it made me look like a crazy person. I’d wipe the lenses, peer through them up at the light, and then go right back to wiping.

  I sat in a chair and didn’t even know where we were. Henry was the lead on this case, and he grabbed me out of the pool of junior lawyers, mostly because I was a woman, and therefore, assumed I would be excellent at taking notes. Sexist pig. He gave me no information other than the guy was a football player and hot shit.

  We rode in the elevator together, and it turned out Hot Shit’s name was Tariq Crawford. He looked unhappy and uncomfortable in his gray suit, but I figured it was from the legal proceedings about to occur rather than his attire. I didn’t pay much attention to sports, but I knew professional players had to dress nicely when they traveled. He probably had a closet full of expensive suits.

  Or maybe a hotel room. I wasn’t sure what kind of divorce this was.

  He was attractive. Tall and lean, with dark skin and beautifully black, expressive eyes. He wore his hair in clean dreads which were gathered in back, and gave him a professional and serious look.

  The conference room wasn’t empty. A tiny blonde woman sat across from me. The only thing in front of her was her phone, and her pained gaze flew to Tariq. So, obviously, the wife. She was cute, and I would bet when she smiled, she was dazzling. But she wasn’t smiling today. Her eyes were full of sadness.

  Sitting next to her was a gorgeous piece of man. His charcoal slim-fit suit hung perfectly on his shoulders, and the purple-plaid tie was knotted exactly so at his neck. A short beard, if you could call it that, wrapped around sexy lips. His brown hair was mussed nicely, calling me to run my fingers through it and make the curling ends lay just a little flatter. The maple color of his hair and scruff set off the blue in his eyes.

  Which were staring at me with something like horror trapped inside.

  Oh.

  My.

  Shit.

  “Kyle?” I eked out.

  He seemed to swallow hard. “Hey, Ruby.”

  No way. No fucking way. I tore my gaze from him and glared at Henry. He could have warned me the only man to ever break my heart was representing Crawford’s wife. Only Henry didn’t know a thing about me because he was a sexist pig, and even if he weren’t, my history with Kyle wasn’t something I liked to share.

  Henry raised an eyebrow. “You know each other?”

  There was a long pause where neither of us said anything. I wasn’t about to do it. Leave-y McLeaverson could.

  Finally, Kyle spoke. “We, uh, went to law school together.”

  That was what he’d boil it down to. I’d waited five years for contact, waited for his apology. So when I finally got to hear his deep, sexy voice and the first words weren’t, “I’m so fucking sorry that I’m a piece of shit asshole,” I almost reached across the table and slapped him. Instead, I
glanced at the door. How much trouble would I be in if I bailed on Henry? I wasn’t sure I could stay here.

  Not with the way Kyle made a tidal wave of memories crash against me.

  Or the way he looked now, wearing the hell out of his gorgeous suit.

  Henry attempted to clear his throat, but it was obvious to everyone this was his call for my attention. I put my reluctant gaze on him and watched one of his bushy eyebrows lift. His expression said it all. “You fuck this guy?”

  I ignored his questioning look, and glared back to Kyle, choking on my temper. I forced myself to be professional. “What happened to New York?”

  His lips parted as if about to say something, but he produced no sound. I didn’t know why I was surprised. He’d left me without saying a thing. Ten amazing months with him, and I didn’t even get a goodbye. Not a goddamn word.

  No, I wasn’t bitter at all.

  “It’s . . . not relevant right now.” Kyle straightened his pad of paper and turned his attention to Henry. “Should we get started?”

  Fucking unbelievable.

  I took notes, fueled by rage, and pretended I wasn’t thinking about the asshole across from me in the gray suit, or how I wanted to strangle him with his perfect tie. The marriage was breaking down due to irreconcilable differences. The couple was frosty, but cordial. Or maybe it was the open hostility between Kyle and me overshadowing it all.

  I stayed silent during the meeting. It didn’t appear to be a contentious divorce, and everyone was civil until the final moments.

  “Alimony,” Kyle said, flipping to a new page in his pad.

  Henry looked offended. “What my client has offered is more than fair.”

  “To who? Your client? He just signed a contract for twenty-seven million over the next six years.”

  The wife drew in a deep breath, signaling her discomfort. She appeared uneasy about the money, but I pushed it from my mind. My focus was on our client, not Kyle’s.

  It was the first time Mr. Crawford spoke in the meeting. “Nene.”

  Her gaze went to her soon-to-be-ex-husband. “Don’t, Tariq. I hate that nickname.”

  “Since when?”