by D. L. Raver
I doled out my handful of vitamins and four ibuprofen into my hand, and then popped them into my mouth. From the fridge, I pulled out a bottle of OJ, taking large swigs from the bottle.
Let the day begin, I thought as I walked down the hall to the door. The sound of my designer shoes on the travertine floors reminded me of the sound of cleats on concrete. It made me smile, but the memory was bittersweet, and I pushed it aside. Behind bittersweet was pure malice, an emotion I couldn't allow myself. Not today.
Grabbing the keys to my Viper, I headed out the door.
Watch out Arizona, Zolt Hamil was back.
“Irelyn, get up,” my mom said and shook my arm.
I peeled open my eyes and looked at the clock. “It’s early,” I groaned.
“You know your father wants you in the office on time. I laid out the new dress I bought for you to wear. Sloan will drive you to the office.”
“Mom, I’m not ten. I don’t need you setting out my clothes, and I certainly don’t need Sloan driving me. I can drive myself.”
“Until you can learn to keep your speed under control when you drive that Mustang, I think it’s best you not drive. I’m sure your brother wouldn’t want you to drive his car that way. You know how much he loved it.”
Whom do you think taught me how to drive that way? I thought bitterly toward my perfect mother as I sat up and twisted my hair into a knot. Just once, I’d like a day to go by where I wasn’t compared to the perfect son. Since his death nine months ago, my parents had forgotten that Christopher had his faults, too.
Big faults!
“Out of bed, Irelyn. You know the deal. We’ll pay for your speeding tickets, but only because you agreed to work as one of your father’s paralegals this summer. You’re lucky your father plays golf with Judge Sanderson; otherwise, you wouldn’t have your license. Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into you. Driving that fast is dangerous.”
“Fine, Mom,” I said and threw back the covers. “I’m up. Happy?”
“Once you’re dressed, I will be. Snap to, young lady,” she commanded, her slight Irish accent becoming more pronounced. “Today is important for your father.”
The beautiful and always immaculate, Emmeline Wilkes kissed me on the cheek, and then turned to walk to the door. My mother knew how to take care of herself. As corny as it sounded, sometimes people thought we were sisters. We both had golden-blonde hair and large eyes with full, black lashes. The only thing that differed was our eye color. I had Daddy’s sable-brown eyes, whereas Mom and Chris shared green ones. The O’Shea women, my mother’s maiden name, came from a long line of tall, curvy women. We weren’t fat by any means, but we weren’t skinny either. My grandmother had always said we had baby making hips, whatever that meant. Because of that, Mom and I were religious with our exercise routine. Designer clothes didn’t come in plus sizes.
“So why is today so important?” I walked over to the closet and looked at the dress Mom had picked for me. As always, she had perfect taste. The dress was a simple, black fitted sheath dress with white-geometric insets on the sides. It was sweet, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“I knew you’d like it,” she said, removing the plastic. “It will look perfect with your figure. Anyway, your father’s new associate starts today. He’s something of a celebrity, and there are clients coming in from Switzerland.”
“Wait. The new associate is a celebrity? Who?”
“Zolten somebody—”
“Zolten Hamil. Are you effing kidding me? Oh. My. God.”
“So you know who that is?” Mom asked, smoothing her black pencil skirt.
“Uh duh, Mom! Zolten Hamil is the Arizona Cardinal quarterback who suffered a career ending leg injury during the playoffs six years ago. I can’t believe he became a lawyer, and he’s working at Daddy’s law firm.” Like that, the day suddenly became very interesting.
“Well, he is. Hurry up and get ready. I have an early meeting myself that Sloan will need to drop me at after he’s delivered you. And flat-iron your hair and wear it down,” she commanded as she walked out the door.
“Yes, Mother,” I said sarcastically and rolled my eyes. One of these days, I’d learn not to drive so fast. Driving the Mustang the way Chris used to made me feel closer to him. I missed my big brother, and no amount of grief counseling changed that. Although it’d only been nine months since he died, it felt more like a million years. I couldn't believe at almost twenty-two, I was being treated as if I was sixteen.
Ugh!
My phone rang, playing Bruno Mars, Treasure. “Rach, check this out. Zolten Hamil is starting work at the law firm.”
“Shut the front door. The Zolten Hamil?”
“The one and only. I can’t believe it. My stomach is in knots.”
“That’s crazy, Irelyn. I wonder what he looks like. I mean, he’s got to be close to thirty by now.”
I laughed at her comment. “That’s not that old, Rachael. Hey, why are you awake? It’s summer break.”
“I wanted to wish you luck on your first day at work and see if you wanted to have lunch?”
“Aw, that’s so sweet. Lunch would be great. I’m totally down.”
We made plans for meeting, and then I took a shower. Memories of Zolt came back in vivid detail. I could still remember the reaction of the stadium when he went down. Chris, Daddy, and I had been on the forty-yard line on the sidelines. We’d seen the whole thing. The hit was as dirty as they came. It wasn’t surprising to find out later the asshole, Joe Franklin, had been participating in a bounty program.
Just thinking about it made me wince. I remember seeing Zolt go down, and seeing the horrific angle of his leg. It was broken for sure.
Somehow, I was able to push past the people that I shouldn’t have been able to push past. The game had devolved into chaos with fights breaking out all over the field. And in the middle of it, Zolt lay broken.
I crouched down, watching as they attended him. For whatever reason, he turned and caught my gaze. I’d never forget the pain I saw in his crystalline-blue eyes, wet with tears. For a long moment, our gazes had locked. I tried to send comfort to him. More than anything, I wanted to hold his hand, and maybe stroke his face. I remember taking an involuntary step toward him. Though he didn’t know who I was, he kept his eyes on mine, and I knew I’d helped him in some small way. For a week after, I cried myself to sleep thinking about him, hoping he was okay.
Sometimes, I closed my eyes and still saw him, reliving our brief interaction. For me, that small connection had been profound; though I was sure he wouldn't even remember it. Why would he? I often worry that was why I couldn't be happy with Marcus. Comparing our relationship to a moment with a man I didn’t even know was idiotic. I knew that, I did. But it didn't stop me from being, well, an idiot.
Now, today, I was going to meet Zolt and I was beyond nervous. Really, he was just another attorney working for Daddy. Another man to take orders from. Another lawyer at the firm.
Except, he wasn’t. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the memory of Zolt Hamil.
“Oh, God, I hope I won’t have to work for him,” I sighed as I put on the dress that Mom had bought for me. I looked in the mirror and admired her choice. The dress fit perfectly. But that didn’t surprise me. Mom had great taste, and since we had the same body type, anything that looked good on her, looked good on me.
I sighed out another breath as I slipped on my black Manolo Blahniks, wishing that the ripple of nerves in my tummy would stop. Seriously, this was silly. He was probably fat or something. Or married with three kids. Even if he was single, I had a boyfriend.
Marcus.
Somehow, along with inheriting Chris’s ’69 Fastback Mustang, I’d also inherited his best friend. How that happened, I still wasn’t sure. My only goal was to console him. Somehow in that process, I’d ended up his girlfriend, and now I felt trapped. I wish I could just grow a pair and break up with him.
I needed to do it soon bef
ore he gave me a ring. The last thing I wanted was to marry Marcus Xavier. Beside our mutual despair over Chris’s death, Marcus and I just didn’t gel. We were more friends than anything, and we weren’t even great friends at that. He was my first and only lover. But that didn’t mean I wanted to be his wife. Just the opposite.
The more I thought about Marcus, the more I kept thinking there was something off about him. When I recalled his friendship with my brother, I wondered how they were friends at all. They were opposites in every way. Chris loved to party, maybe too much. Marcus was all business, all the time, even in the bedroom.
Lately, I’d grown to dread Mondays. Or, I should say, the day I let Marcus use my body for about 7.5 minutes. Literally. That was all it took. I never enjoyed it, and I couldn’t remember the last time I didn’t come by my own hand. Sex with him was rote, the same every time. He’d turn off the lights; we took off our clothes, and climbed in bed. After a few closed mouth kisses, two minutes later it was over. Thank God, it didn’t take him long to come. Most of the time, I planned out what I’d wear the next day or thought about homework.
I shoved all thoughts of Marcus out of my head. If I thought about him, I got depressed. If only he and Daddy weren’t so tight. I knew Daddy would throw a fit when I did break up with Marcus. Sometimes, I felt as if he’d replaced Chris in Daddy’s eyes. That thought depressed me even more.
One more year, I reminded myself. Then, freedom! I’d be graduated and moved out. I’d work and live away from my family until my trust released when I turned twenty-five. Then, I’d be able to start the wild animal sanctuary I’d always dreamed of doing. Chris had always encouraged me, even to the point of promising me his share of the property my grandpa had left us. My brother was good like that. He’d been the one to insist I pursue a degree in Zoology, much to Daddy’s chagrin.
I missed my brother terribly. Every time I thought back to the last conversation I had with Chris, I felt more unsettled. He was weird that day in a way I couldn’t put my finger on. Too many nights I laid awake thinking about it, trying to figure out what the hell was going on with him. He seemed desperate, and at the same time, resigned. He and Daddy weren’t talking.
Whatever. I’d never know now. The time was coming when I would break away from this family. That would be the day I could finally breathe. I kind of wished that day was today.
“So this is the library,” Zolt’s secretary, Liza, said as she pushed the door open. “It’s state of the art; anything you need is at your fingertips. There’s a librarian on staff seven days a week.”
“Very nice,” I said and smiled at Liza. The library was spectacular as libraries went. But I preferred doing research online, using Westlaw or Lexis, so I doubted I’d spend much time in there.
She flushed and tossed her dirty-blonde hair over her shoulder, standing with her hip cocked forward.
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from rolling my eyes. I didn’t need my secretary crushing on me and falling all over herself every time I had to lean over her shoulder to point something out. I would have to be careful with this one.
We exited the library and returned to my office. Much like I’d expected, people recognized me, but thankfully, only one or two had asked about my leg. The fact that I walked with a slight limp—though I tried not to, and worked as a lawyer—should say all there was to say.
“So that’s the law firm. You have fifteen minutes before Mr. Wilkes is ready for you. Can I get you some coffee? Soda? Anything?” Liza asked and ran her tongue over her upper lip.
Holy shit. Maybe I should just take her in my office and fuck her on my desk.
“No, I’m good. Thanks for the tour,” I said, abandoning my train of thought.
Liza nodded, and then left my office, closing the door.
“Alone at last,” I said to my empty office. I poured myself a glass of water and found my way to my desk. My leg ached from walking around for the last hour. Stupid of me not to plan ahead and lessen my laps in the pool. Last night, I’d fucked Nancy, Sally, or whoever until my leg ached. But I’d needed the stress release. Now, I paid the price.
I sat in my chair and reached for my messenger bag. The black leather bag—a gift from my mentor, Jack Warden—was new and still stiff. A “welcome to your new adventure” present.
Opening it, I dug around, searching for the ibuprofen, but my hand found the brownie first.
“Hmm,” I said, running my thumb over the plastic bag, telling myself the ibuprofen would have to do. I was about to go into a meeting with Jacob Wilkes. Being high was a bad idea, even if it would take the edge off my aching leg.
Or I could call Liza back in and revisit fucking her across my desk.
Vetoing the brownies and the sex, I popped four pills and took a long pull of the water. As soon as I started working, I wouldn’t fixate on my leg. Hopefully, Wilkes would have a case for me to sink my teeth into.
Ten minutes later, I walked down the hall to Wilkes’s office, nodding and waving to my colleagues as I went.
When I got to his office, I wasn’t surprised he had his own receptionist. I checked in with her, then took a seat and waited.
And waited. And waited.
Thirty minutes later, Jacob Wilkes stepped out of his office. I’d met him once before when I interviewed, but I’d forgotten about how devilishly handsome he was—George Clooney kind of handsome. But there was something about him I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Something that made me want to flinch away from him. And, on the flip side, something so very familiar.
“Zolten,” he said and ushered me into his office. As expected, his office was as swanky as they came; rich dark woods with furniture constructed on modern lines. I took the offered seat in front of his desk, ignoring the urge to rub my leg. The discomfort must have showed on my face because Wilkes glanced in the direction of my leg.
“Still pains you?” he asked, giving me an appraising once over.
“On occasion,” I answered nonchalantly.
He steepled his fingers and sat back in his chair. “If you’d like, I can refer you to my physician. He’s very good. The best, actually.”
Fuck. How was I supposed to answer that? Seriously, I’d been to the best sports doctors in the country.
“That would be great. Thank you,” I said with as much appreciation as I could muster. I didn’t care who this doctor was, I had no intention of seeing him. Every six months, I had a standing appointment with the doctor who’d taken care of me from the beginning. Along with my brother Brody’s examinations, I was well cared for. Beyond that, I didn’t want Wilkes knowing more about me than he already did.
“Marsha can set the appointment for you,” Wilkes said with a pleased gleam in his sable-brown eyes. There was something about his eyes I couldn’t put my finger on.
Reflexively, I rubbed the back of my neck. Very few people gave me the willies. Since I considered myself a good judge of character, I filed this one away for later scrutiny.
I scanned the room, and my gaze landed on a picture of what I was sure was his family. It was a typical family portrait. Wilkes’s wife sat in a chair, with Wilkes standing behind her, his hands resting on the back of her chair. Their late son stood on the left of his mother, and to the right was the most beautiful young woman I’d ever seen….
I felt my mouth drop open, and I had to remind myself I wasn’t alone. My heart thundered in my chest.
School your reaction, Zolt. Close your mouth.
Sitting up straighter in my chair, I squinted, and then blinked a few times.
Is it really her? Holy fuck!
It couldn’t be. She didn’t exist.
The young woman in the portrait was older, which would be correct. The longer I looked, the more I knew it was her, and she was beautiful. She had the face of a high fashion model with full lips and high cheekbones.
I wanted to keep staring at the picture. But I knew I couldn’t, and I knew I needed to stop gawking at my boss’s family
. Or, at his daughter, more specifically.
My head swam. I couldn’t believe she was real.
“My family,” Wilkes said, bringing my head around to face him. “It was taken only days before Christopher’s death.”
“Oh,” I managed to eke out. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“And a loss it was, a great loss. But we must move on. Christopher would want that. Just like you did. We were there that day on the sidelines. My daughter cried the whole way home and for a week after.”
“She did?” I asked, my mouth suddenly dry. The hallucination I’d held on to for the past six years had been a memory—a fucking memory! I was freaking out, and I needed to get out of here.
“Yes. Certainly you met her this morning when you made your rounds?”
“Your daughter works here? No, I guess I didn’t.” I swallowed, my stomach tightening with nerves.
“Irelyn will be working as one of my paralegals for the summer before she returns to the Arizona State University.”
Irelyn, I repeated in my head. Irelyn. That name was perfect for her. Now, I had a name to go with my memory.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Sure, seeing her is unexpected, but don’t let it undo you.
“I see,” I said, trying to make intelligent conversation. “Is she planning on law school?”
I asked the most obvious question, and hoped that my face showed nothing of my thoughts and my body’s reaction.
Wilkes actually laughed, but there was no joy in it.
“I’m sorry did I strike a nerve?”
“No, not at all. Irelyn has the brain to be a fine lawyer. She’s already a wonderful paralegal. Unfortunately, she has a silly notion about working with animals.” He dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand.
“Her mother and I have tried to persuade her. With Christopher gone, it would be nice to pass the business on to my daughter. However, she has a kind heart, perhaps too much so.”
The shadow of some unknown emotion darkened his gaze. Wilkes frowned slightly but recovered quickly.