by Gephart, T
I barely heard the words as I waited for the door to close.
“You lying piece of shit.” I couldn’t hold back any longer, keeping my hands to myself as the words flew out of my mouth. “There was no email.”
“I may be a piece of shit, Harper,” he stayed seated, watching me as I moved closer, “but I didn’t lie. Check your inbox.”
My handbag dropped on the table as I dug around for my phone.
He watched me, keeping his eyes on me as I opened my emails and saw there was a message unopened. Sent thirty minutes after we’d left the office.
“You played me.”
It was obvious that whatever I had thought happened yesterday was an illusion. Roman hadn’t miraculously found decency it turned out. And worse than all of that, he was more evil than I had ever anticipated.
“I didn’t play you.” He stood, walking over to where I was frozen. “We went to dinner, you missed the message. Did I at any point of the evening tell you not to check your emails? Take your phone and hold it hostage?”
“That’s fucking semantics, Roman, and you know it.”
I felt sick, nausea bubbling up my throat as I thought back to last night. The invitation. The dinner. How different he’d been as we spent hours, hours talking. Only it had just been smoke and mirrors. And then I remembered what he’d said before we’d left the office, when I’m trying to distract a woman, she won’t know it.
Oh. My. God.
“You’re a monster. Was any of it true? All that shit you said about yourself, your brothers? Anything? Did you sit there and lie the entire time?”
And how much further was he willing to go? Should I be thanking him for not sleeping with me? Nice to know he stopped short of being a complete whore.
“Everything I told you last night was the truth.” His words razor sharp as he maintained his composure, his usual smile missing in action. “I told you, I didn’t lie.”
“You can go around and around as much as you want, Roman, but you sure as hell weren’t honest.” That was the lawyer in him, the argument prepared ready to prove that while he’d been a sorry excuse for a man, he hadn’t lied.
Wow, how proud he must be of himself.
“I did what needed to be done.”
“No, you stacked the deck.” My palm itched to slap his stupid, beautiful face as my throat constricted. “You kissed me.”
I wanted to cry, to scream, to rage, but I refused to give him the satisfaction. It was bad enough he’d played on my emotions and used me. I wouldn’t allow him to enjoy the show as well.
He probably thought the whole thing was hilarious, laughed about it on his way home about how easy I’d been.
I had been a fool to trust him.
“You kissed me back,” he reminded me, making me hate him even more. “And you liked it.”
That was my limit, feeling my arms that had been idle by my side reach up and physically push him away. It wasn’t anywhere close to being satisfying, my need for violence at an unparalleled level as I grabbed my handbag and phone and headed to the door.
“Prepare your own damn motion,” I called out over my shoulder, “and then you can go to hell.”
I didn’t care that I was running away, or that Daniel had expected me to help Roman. Getting out of that room and away from him was the only thing I could think about.
Striding with purpose down the hall, I put distance between us, and for once he did the smart thing and didn’t follow me. I didn’t stop walking until I got to the ladies room, pushing open the door to the stall and threw up into the toilet bowl.
The entire evening played over and over in my head, every single word now needing to be dissected. For once I had let my guard down, and he didn’t only use it against me professionally but took advantage of me too.
I was going to be sick again.
Unable to stop it, I heaved again into the toilet, tears stinging my eyes as my gut twisted.
It wasn’t my finest moment, but I had managed to just get the door closed behind me before I vomited. At least I was able to save myself from further embarrassment; it’s not like the day needed to get any worse than it already was.
“Hello?”
Great.
I’d spoken too soon.
“Hey,” I called to the mysterious voice beyond the stall. I hoped whoever it was just needed a tampon or something so they could leave me to my misery.
“I’m sorry, I heard you. Are you sick too?” There was a rustling of paper and then a flush. “I haven’t stopped all morning, pretty sure it’s the stomach flu.”
“Yeah, must be going around.” I winced, wondering what the etiquette was for bathroom chitchat. “You should probably go home.”
“I think—” She didn’t get to finish, the rest of the sentence getting lost in some serious retching.
It sounded like a horror movie in there; she definitely needed to go home.
I finished up in my stall, flushing before heading out to the basin to wash my hands, waiting for her to stop. “Are you okay?” I tentatively asked, unsure if I was making it worse by being there.
Still, leaving her wouldn’t be right either and unlike some people—i.e. the spawn of Satan I’d left in the boardroom—I had a heart.
“Ugh,” she groaned from behind the door. “I think I’m dying.”
If what I had witnessed had been going on the whole morning, she sounded like she was too.
Well, if nothing else, the woman puking out her eyeballs had stopped me from worrying about myself for a few minutes. There was a positive. “What’s your name?”
“Charlotte. I’m one of the new paralegals.”
“Okay Charlotte, you think you can make it back to your desk and get your things? I’m going to help get you home.”
As much as I hated to admit it, my motives weren’t purely altruistic. And I would deal with whatever bad karma I attracted because of that. But if the universe had seemed fit to give me an excuse to get out of work today and not deal with a man I wanted to disembowel, then I was going to take it.
“I can’t leave,” she groaned, her voice hiccupping. “I’m supposed to be helping Roman Pierce with a case today.”
Cue my lack of surprise that he was the common denominator to both the women in the bathroom puking.
“There are other paralegals who can help Roman.” I was almost positive there was a line of them willing to volunteer. “Why don’t you go get your things and we’ll go talk to Roman together. Then we’ll get you home.”
The door opened, a frail-looking redhead whose skin was the color of ash peered back at me. “You would do that for me?”
“Of course.” And maybe if we got lucky she would throw up in his lap and ruin is fancy suit. There was no harm in hoping. “I’m Lauren, by the way.”
“I know.” Her eyes dipped down, tugging at her skirt. “We spoke on the phone two days ago, and I recognized your voice. Oh, wait.” Her hand shot to her mouth. “That sounded creepy, I probably shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s fine.” I dismissed her with a wave. “I’m work with Roman Pierce, I’m used to creepy.”
She laughed, clutching her stomach as she moved to the basin to clean herself up. Her black eyeliner had smudged, enhancing the Day of the Dead makeover she had going on, but with the help of some wadded up paper towel she was able to make herself look presentable.
“Are you sure this is okay?” She hesitated at the door. “I don’t want you to get into any trouble.”
“I’m not going to get into any trouble. Besides, I think I have a mild case of it too, so it’s probably for the best we both go home.”
Plus, one day of working remotely wasn’t going to be a problem. Anything Daniel needed done I could manage on my laptop connected to the Wi-Fi at home. Not to mention the class A felony it would help avoid, me being away from Roman seemed like the smartest idea.
Her eyes brightened, taking comfort in my reassurance as she nodded. “Yes, mine s
tarted slow and then it got really bad.”
Having agreed we were both suffering the stomach flu and needed to go home, I left her to go get her things before meeting her back in the hall. She wasn’t looking too hot, with the prospect of her vomiting again looking more likely by the minute. I tried to remind myself that would be a bad thing.
“Harper.” I heard his voice from behind me. Oh, what do you know, it’s Mr. Evil Incarnate himself. God, I hated him.
“Roman.” I turned, straightening my shoulders as I shelved the embarrassment and hurt and concentrated on the anger. “It seems Charlotte and I have been struck down with the stomach flu. I need to take a sick day.”
He looked at us both with suspicion, his blue eyes flicking to Charlotte and then back to me. “You seemed fine a few minutes ago.”
“It came on suddenly.” As hard as it was, I met his eyes. “I must have caught some nasty bug. I hear there’s a hideous strain going around.”
His eyebrow rose and his lips thinned. “Is that so?”
“It’s true, Mr. Pierce.” Charlotte nodded beside me. “At first I felt a little tired and hot, but it got a whole lot worse very quickly.”
She was pale, her hand flying to her mouth as her eyes filled with fear. “Oh no.”
Oh no was right.
She dashed into the closest office, grabbing a waste paper basket and giving Roman visual evidence of our sudden and horrendous condition. If she’d been just three seconds slower, the display would have been more personal than he probably would have liked.
Such a shame.
“What the hell is going on out here?” Daniel Moss stormed from his office, meeting us in the hall.
“Stomach flu.” I grabbed at my gut, doing my best to make myself look ill. Not that it was hard when Roman was in the room. “Both of us.”
“Well for God’s sake, get out of the office before we have an epidemic.” He took a step back, his hand covering his mouth like a mask. “We’ll call you if we need you. Charlotte, I’ll let your supervisor know. Do you need me to call a cab?”
“It’s fine, I have my car,” I volunteered. “I can take Charlotte home too.”
“Good.” He nodded, Charlotte puking again into the waste paper basket.
“We should go.” I pushed her toward the elevator, our newly acquired office accessory coming with us. “I’ll email from home.”
Daniel kept his hand up at his mouth while Roman’s eyes narrowed. I didn’t care if he believed me or not, he’d have to find someone else to screw over today. I needed distance, time away from him and the situation, to work out what I did next.
The metal doors of the elevator closed behind us as Charlotte clutched the waste paper basket like a life preserver. She might have momentarily settled as we descended to the undercover garage, but I wasn’t sure how long our reprieve was going to be.
“I’m not far.” I pointed to my silver Mazda parked two rows away. “You want me to take you to an emergency room?”
“No, just home please.” Her voice reedy as she followed me to my car.
We both hopped in, and after Charlotte had given me her address—thankfully not too far away—she fell asleep in the passenger seat. It meant there was no more puking but unfortunately left me alone with my thoughts.
How could he?
The single question swirled in my mind as I pulled up to Charlotte’s house. She still lived with her folks, so at least I wouldn’t have to worry about her dying in her sleep. The duty of care handed over to her mom who met us at the door.
And with my good deed done for the day, I drove to my apartment where I needed to regroup and reevaluate. I might not have been as physically ill as poor Charlotte, but psychologically I wasn’t doing too hot.
At work, I expected him to do his worst. Not outright undermine me, but we’d always pushed each other to the limits. In a sick twisted way I think it made us better attorneys.
But what he’d done had crossed the line. He’d made it personal. And I was never going to forgive him.
Feeling drained and confused, I pulled off my work clothes and changed into my sleep shorts and an old T-shirt. I brushed my teeth, cleaned off my makeup and collapsed onto my couch.
I needed revenge.
While it wouldn’t change what he’d done, it would make me feel better. Show him he couldn’t treat people like disposable commodities and there were consequences. It was too much to hope he’d turn into a decent person, but I wanted him to feel the way he made me feel.
Stupid.
Embarrassed.
Used.
One way or another, he was going down and I was just the woman to do it.
IT SEEMED PLANS OF REVENGE made you sleepy.
Either that, or it was the pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream I ate to drown my sorrows.
We were out of wine, so I had to improvise.
So, when I woke up in the dark with strange hands touching me, I wasn’t exactly sure if it was calorie-induced hallucinations or I was being assaulted.
Given my track record for shitty things happening, I wasn’t taking a chance either way.
“What the hell.” My sister deflected my flying fist of fury, grabbing my hands and restraining me. “It’s me, Morgan.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” My eyes slowly adjusted to the light. “What time is it?”
Morgan reached across to the lamp on the end table and turned it on. “Just after nine, I had to work a double.” She was still in her scrubs. “I saw you passed out on the couched and got worried. There’s a stomach flu going around, we were hammered in the E.R.”
Hmm. Funny that she’d mentioned that. “Yeah, I came home from work early today, but I’m not sick.” That was questionable. “I mean, my body isn’t sick. Other parts of me . . . well . . . Let’s just say I need to scrub the search history on my laptop in case it’s ever seized.”
She folded her arms across her chest, taking a seat beside me on the couch. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“I don’t want to make you an accessory.”
“Lo, come on.” She tugged on my arm. “Firstly, if you’re going to kill someone and make it look like natural causes, you don’t need Google, that’s what I’m here for. I’m your sister and that blood oath we took when you were six and I was nine pretty much guarantees I can be counted on to help you dispose of a body or two.”
I laughed, shifting into a sitting position. “I’m not sure what the statute is on blood oaths in California, I’m going to have to look that up.”
“Secondly,” she ignored me, continuing, “if this has to do with that guy you work with and hate, you need to talk to the partners.”
“Ugh.” I let my head fall on the back of the couch. “I was so, so stupid.”
While I hated reliving it all again, I couldn’t lie to my sister either. So, I started to recount the whole, diabolical story even if hearing out loud made me feel even more stupid.
“He did what?” Her eyes got huge as her mouth dropped open. “He kissed you so you wouldn’t read your emails? Lo, last time I checked that was classified as sexual harassment. You need to call your boss now.” She grabbed my cell from the coffee table and waved it in front of me. “He won’t get away with this.”
“Well . . .” Goddamn it, as much as I hated to admit it, it hadn’t been sexual harassment.
Inappropriate, sure.
Unethical, possibly.
Dodgy as hell, very much so.
But as terrible as it sounded, I had wanted that kiss. At least I did when I didn’t know he was being a fraud. And it had been . . . ugh, amazing.
“I kissed him back. I grabbed him and kissed him and asked to go back to his place.” I buried my head in my hands. “Like a desperate moron. He was the one who turned me down.”
“You kissed him?” She looked at me as if I was insane. “A man who you swore you wouldn’t pee on if he was on fire, that’s the guy you kissed?”
I unders
tood the confusion. Because if yesterday morning you had told me that by the end of the day I would have been lip-locked with Roman Pierce and propositioning him in a parking lot, I’d have had your ass committed. But things changed. He changed. Except he didn’t.
“To be fair, he is probably into some weird peeing fantasy. So even though I have kissed him, I still definitely would not pee on him. Even if he was on fire. And did you miss the part where I told you he charmed me? I should have brought some of the food home for you to take to the lab for a sample. He probably laced it with something.”
That would explain a lot actually.
“So,” she shifted in her seat, “he charmed you. You guys kissed. And then he blindsided you. And because of this, he convinced the client to go his way.”
“Yes,” I nodded, her grasp on the situation commendable considering I’d had to be sketchy with details regarding the case. Client, attorney privilege and all that.
Slowly, the smile spread across her face. “Do we know where the loser lives?”
“Nope, but if I did, I would show up on his doorstep and . . .” I tried to think of something horrible. Kicking him in the balls was the front-runner, if not, slightly predictably. “Morgan, are there any kind of drugs I can get over the counter which cause erectile dysfunction?”
Nothing like a case of limp dick to knock him down a peg or two. Of course, I knew what I was suggesting was highly illegal. But it made me feel better to fantasize. And right now, it was all about making me feel better.
“Let’s not drug anyone right now,” she laughed. “But just know if it comes to it, I have a list as long as my arm that would do the job nicely.”
“Excellent.” My first real smile of the day made its appearance. “Why don’t you get a shower and get out of your scrubs, and I’ll order us some late-night dinner.”
“That sounds like heaven.” Morgan sighed as she lifted herself off the couch. “Get Italian. I’m craving carbs.”
As Morgan headed to the bathroom, I grabbed the phone and ordered pasta from Gino’s. I may have over ordered, risking sending us both into a carb coma but that was the chance I was going to take.