Only Me

by Vivian Ward

  Email: derek@derekmasters.com

  Dare Me

  Copyright © 2017 by Vivian Ward

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  To everyone who believes in love.

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  Chapter One

  Logan

  Making my way into the office, the cool blast from the air conditioner against my skin reminds me how terrible the summer heat has been as I wipe away a thin layer of sweat from my brow.

  The muggy St. Louis heat in July makes it almost impossible to breathe. Just from the short time that I left my car and walked from the parking garage, it felt like I was going to suffocate from the thick, humid air.

  “Good morning, Mr. Kraft,” Janice says as I enter the building.

  Out of all the legal secretaries, she’s the friendliest. It’s also probably the reason why she works for Mitch.

  Mitchell Davis is not only my friend, but he’s also a partner at Ford and Associates. Well, he’s one of the many partners at the firm.

  I’m still a senior associate and have been trying like hell to please our managing partner, Mr. Ford. He’s the founder of our law firm, and he’s the man everyone wants to impress. It doesn’t matter who you are; everyone knows Mr. Ford. He’s the big shot that can make or break you.

  Sometimes I wonder if he even notices me, but I refuse to give up.

  Oliver Ford can be a pain in the ass to work for, but he runs the biggest and best law firm in St. Louis. Located in the downtown area, our practice is less than ten minutes from the Arch and the Cathedral.

  Our firm is one of the original buildings in the area and is over 150 years old, but she stands tall and proud. The stone-like structure is well maintained, and its original gray charm is adorned with tinted glass windows with reflective golden signage to display the name of our law office.

  Of course, only the partners have the benefit of looking out of the tall, tinted windows because each of their offices has a view.

  All of the junior and senior associates share work in a common area near our team of paralegals. Nobody gets their own office until they make partner.

  “Morning, Janice,” I nod and grin at her as I walk to my desk.

  Placing my briefcase on top of my worn, faded desk, I take a sip of the my coffee before I get down to business.

  “Did you see the new paralegal that we got this morning?” Lester asks.

  Brandon Lester is a senior associate like me, but I can’t stand him. To be honest, most people in the office don’t particularly like him, but he must impress Ford, so he’s still here. I want to knock the ridiculous toupee right off of his head.

  He started losing his hair a few years ago, and in an effort to woo the ladies, he opted for a toupee. Nobody in the firm has the heart to tell him how dumb it looks, but it kills me to look at it.

  It reminds me of a tiny birds nest, and I always imagine birds shitting on his head.

  “No, I didn’t pay any attention,” I say, shaking the mouse to wake up my computer.

  “She’s a hottie,” he smiles. “Perfect curves in all the right places.”

  His crooked grin makes me cringe. Not only is he unaware that we all think he wears a bird’s nest on his head, but we also call him Lester, the molester.

  It’s mainly because he’s always checking out all of the young paralegals and everyone knows about his manilla folder. It’s the folder he uses to hide his desk boners, but it doesn’t stop there.

  He always has the same folder, no matter what case he’s working on and everyone knows what it’s used for. He’ll stare at all the pretty paralegals until he takes his break.

  From there, he’s usually gone for about ten to fifteen minutes before he returns with his folder and sits at his desk with it right back across his lap as he continues to stare at the pool of paralegals that work for us.

  It’s sickening, but there’s not much any of us can do. We can’t exactly prove that he’s jerking off in the bathroom or that he hides constant erections. Plus, there’s no law saying that a man can’t get his dick hard when he sees an attractive female.

  And he has a girlfriend. Okay, more of a part-time girlfriend who just uses him for his money. Rumor has it that she’s only slept with him twice in the year and a half that they’ve been together.

  “That’s nice, Lester,” I say, trying my best to ignore him.

  As I’m opening my files to begin working on our most recent case, I’m interrupted when a white envelope is thrown on top of my keyboard.

  Looking up to see where it came from, I see Kelly Wilson standing across from my desk beaming at me.

  “Congratulations,” she says.

  Kelly is Mr. Ford’s legal secretary and probably the only woman in the office that anyone gives a damn about making happy. If she’s not happy, Mr. Ford’s not happy, and that’s not something anyone is willing to risk.

  “What’s this?” I ask, slowly removing the envelope from my keyboard.

  “Mr. Ford said to deliver it to you,” she giggles. “Open it up!”

  One thing that I love about Kelly is that even though she’s the big boss’s legal secretary is that she’s fun to have around. I’m pretty sure Mr. Ford hired her solely based on her skirt size and the length of her heels but with his kind of money and power, he can do whatever he wants, and nobody ever says a word.

  “Yeah. Open it,” Lester says. “Let’s see what Mr. Ford had hand-delivered to you.”

  His tone is loud, causing everyone to glance over at me.

  “Sure,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.

  With the way Kelly’s smiling at me, I know there’s no way that this could be anything bad but I’m not sure what it is. Eager to find out, I quickly rip open the end of the envelope and see it’s some sort of invitation.

  Confused as to what it is, I take a second peek at it. That’s when the light bulb pops on, and I realize what I’m holding in my hands.

  Grinning ear to ear, I nod and look up at the other senior associates and Kelly.

  “Wow! Really?” I ask. “Mr. Ford said to give this to me?”

  This is my ticket to becoming partner—as long as I don’t blow it.

  “Yes,” she laughs.

  Her fingers delicately brush the palm of my hand as we maintain constant eye contact and she turns the envelope over.

  “See? Your name is written right here,” she points out.

  Mesmerized by her touch and in awe of what’s taking place, I slowly allow my eyes to break eye contact with her to look at the envelope where I see my name written in black ink.

  Logan Kraft is scribbled on the back, just barely legible.

  Mr. Ford wrote this himself. This is not a game or a prank.

  “What is it?” Lester asks.

  “It’s an invitation to Ford’s party,” I say.

  Even though the words are leaving my lips and sound like my voice, I barely recognize what they are or what they mean. It’s almost like I’m floating like it’s an out of body experience.

  Like it’s not really happening, but it is.

  “No fucking way,” Lester says, jealous of the revelation.

  “What’s going on?” Pardo asks, hearing the commotion.

  He’s the other senior associate besides Lester and I. At home when I’m talking to my fiancée, Piper; I often refer to him as “Parvo” because he makes me want to puke. He’s the biggest ass kisser
of Mr. Ford and a complete jackass.

  “Seems that golden boy has gotten an invite to Ford’s annual party,” Lester answers before I have the chance to speak.

  “Oh yeah?” Parvo asks. “Someone’s nose is brown.”

  “It isn’t mine,” I say.

  Both of them snicker at me, acting like high school girls. Sometimes I really hate working with them and wonder how anyone could like either one of them.

  The two of them are ridiculous and have no room to talk. Out of the three of us, I’m the one who deserves the invitation to Ford’s party. I work hard, play by the books, and I don’t kiss ass to get what I want.

  My career is where it’s at because of hard work, not the ability to bullshit my way through life.

  “Golden boy seems a bit sensitive,” Lester says. “We better not upset Ford’s little pet.”

  He reaches over to pet my shoulder, but I quickly push his hand away. It’s taking everything I have not to knock the dumb ass bird’s nest off his head.

  “Watch it,” I warn him. “The only time we ever have to worry about things is when you’re around Ford. Then we all have to put our boots on to wade through your knee-deep bullshit.”

  Everyone listening to our office banter roars with laughter because they know it’s true. It also effectively puts him in his place because he knows it, too.

  “In all seriousness, congrats,” Lester says, placing his arm on my shoulder. “But just remember one thing.”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  He leans over, putting his mouth next to my ear.

  “Just because you got yourself invited to the party doesn’t mean a thing. You still have to impress him along with the rest of the partners, and I’d watch it.”

  “Watch what?” I ask.

  “Ford,” he says as though I’m an idiot. “He only does things for his own benefit. Nothing is ever from the kindness of his heart.”

  This much I know is true but I’m not sure what I could do for Ford or what he could gain from me. Maybe I’m wrong. Perhaps the invite is an early wedding present from the old bastard.

  Chapter Two

  Logan

  “Piper?” I call out to my fiancée as I walk through the door. “Where are you?”

  I tried like hell to get a hold of her today to tell her about the invitation to Ford’s party, but she was stuck in meetings, and this is something that I want to see her reaction to. This is a big deal for me, and it could be our big break.

  We could finally pay off our student loans and stop transferring our credit card balances. It could get us completely out of debt so that we can get off this hamster wheel that we’ve been on for a while.

  My fiancée works for ZenForce, the third largest business to business marketing giant in the world. There’s nothing zen-like about her job, though. They keep their employees on tight deadlines and put a lot of pressure on them to bring the biggest and best companies to the table.

  While she enjoys the work, I keep telling her that they’re taking advantage of her position. She graduated at the top of her marketing research class when she got her Master’s degree. With her knowledge and experience, they should be paying her at least double what she currently makes, but she loves the job and would probably do it for much less.

  She’s always busy with work, especially now that it’s so close to our wedding. Being an over-achiever, she is making sure she has all of her ducks in a row so she can relax on our honeymoon. Lord knows if she realizes there’s one loose string that she forgot to tie up, she won’t be able to relax and enjoy herself.

  It’s just the type of personality that she has. Everything has to be perfect, and it has to be done Piper’s way, but I cherish and admire her. If it weren’t for her, I might not have finished law school. She’s my rock.

  Like a sexy goddess, she materializes from seemingly nowhere.

  She’s wearing her business suit with the skirt that I love so much. The royal blue material clings to every beautiful curve of her body and accentuates her long, tanned legs that peek out beneath her matching stockings.

  “Right here,” she says, swinging around the kitchen door frame.

  Donning a huge grin, I find myself wishing that she was only wearing her gorgeous smile with her stockings. I don’t know what it is about her pantyhose, but I love it when she wears stuff like that. It’s so sexy to have that thin, delicate fabric hugging her skin.

  “Guess what? I’ve got the biggest news,” I say to her.

  Tilting her head, she continues to smile and waves me into the kitchen.

  “Yeah? Come tell me about it while I check on dinner,” she says.

  The aroma of sweet, honey-glazed chicken fills my senses the instant I begin walking in her direction. My mouth begins to water from the smell while my stomach slightly grumbles.

  “You’ll never believe this,” I begin. “You know the annual party that Ford has at his place?”

  She nods her head, “Mhmm.”

  “I got invited to it!”

  I remove the envelope from the breast pocket of my jacket and present it to her.

  “Check it out,” I say, handing it to her.

  Excited, she takes the envelope from my hands and begins opening it. She knows that getting invited is a big deal, but she doesn’t realize how big.

  “Congrats,” she hands the invitation back to me.

  “Piper, you don’t get it! The firm is looking for a new partner, and everyone knows that they only invite current partners and those whom they are considering. This means that Ford has his eye on me.”

  Her eyebrows arch as her emerald eyes grow into giant saucers.

  “What?! Babe! That’s awesome; I’m so proud of you!”

  She throws her arms around my neck and squeezes me tight before she lets go of me.

  “Let’s celebrate! I’ve got a bottle of the good stuff,” she says, running her finger along the buttons of my shirt. “You grab the glasses.”

  Watching her trail off to the wine cabinet, I study her round, bubbly ass as it sways back and forth. Teasing me and lulling me, I want to sink my teeth into it.

  “Here we go,” she sets the bottle on the counter.

  An hour later, we’re sitting down to a delicious meal with our glasses of wine, still talking about Ford’s party. Neither of us can stop talking about the endless possibilities that might come to me making partner.

  “Do the other guys know?” she asks.

  “Who? Parvo and the molester?” I laugh. “Yeah, they both know and they’re jealous as hell. They were giving me shit about it all morning long.”

  She pierces her chicken with her fork.

  “I don’t like those guys. I’m glad you got the invite and not them, and not just because we’ll benefit from it but because they’re creeps.”

  “You have no idea.”

  I’ve never told my wife about the manilla-boner folder or even half of what goes on at the office. Her only encounters with them have been company parties like our Christmas parties and the summer picnics that Ford always hosts at our local park and baseball field.

  “I’m proud of you. I know you’ve worked so hard,” she flips her long, straight brown hair over her shoulder and tucks it behind her ear. “So when is this party again?”

  Taking a drink of my wine, I pick up the invitation from the table and look at it again. It still feels so surreal to be holding it in my hand. I’m still in a bit of awe.

  “It’s Saturday, on the 25th,” I answer her.

  Her mouth pops open as a look of shock washes over her face.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “But I won’t be able to go with you to Mr. Ford’s party. It’s not possible,” she shakes her head from side to side.

  “What? Why?” I ask.

  Piper is always by my side. We do everything together so for her to say that she can’t come with me—to what might be the most important party besides our wedding reception—it’s a bit of a slap in the face.
<
br />   “Logan,” she reaches across the table, taking my hand in hers. “Don’t you remember what next Saturday is?”

  It’s hard for me to concentrate as her soft, petite fingers caress the palm of my hand, but I try to focus on the date. When she touches me, all of the blood rushes from one head to the other, and I can’t help it. You would think that after being together for five years, her touch would’ve worn off but it hasn’t.

  When she touches me, it’s like a spell comes over me that I’m unable to break regardless what I’m doing or what I’m thinking.

  “I’m sorry, Piper. I’m drawing a blank. What is next Saturday?”

  “My bridal shower,” she sounds surprised that I don’t remember.

  I might be crazy at times, but I thought she already had one. She and her friends were all giggles about it.

  “Didn’t you do that a few weeks ago?”

  The loud sigh and the way she pushes my hand away tells me that this was the wrong answer, but I remember her and all of her friends wearing a bunch of skimpy shit when they all stayed out until dawn.

  “Really, Logan?” She shakes her head. “You don’t ever pay attention, do you?”

  “What?” I ask. “What did I miss here?”

  There’s no way that I forgot about that night. I remember watching her getting ready for her party. She wore a tight little white dress that rode up the back of her ass with a pair of stockings that cut off at the thigh, with a lacy cuff at the top of them.

  The dress was almost see-through. I could tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra by the way her nipples peeked through the thin material of her dress and she was wearing an ivory thong that I couldn’t stop staring at.

  They were going to a few bars and then a strip joint for ladies, and I thought for sure she was going to get banged by the male dancers. Her friends assured me that the male strippers are usually gay, but with the way she looked that night, she could’ve made any gay man turn straight while she was dressed like that.