Dirty Player (The Dirty Suburbs Book 2)

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Dirty Player (The Dirty Suburbs Book 2) Page 22

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller


  “Thanks for that, Hailey. It was really helpful,” I say sarcastically and Amber snickers. I groan, “I can’t believe I’ve gotten myself into this mess. My number one rule is ‘never fuck coworkers.’ It gets messy. And now, look at the situation that I’m in.” After the things I’ve been through in my past, that’s one rule that I just don’t ever break.

  Amber laughs as she brings her spoon to her mouth. “Well, at least he’s hot. From what I remember, he was hot!”

  “That’s beside the point, Amber,” I say rolling my eyes. “I have to work with him everyday knowing that he’s seen me naked. That he’s thinking about me naked. That, on some level, he might be hoping to get me naked again. I’m mortified.”

  Hailey takes a swig of whatever vegetable concoction it is that she’s drinking today. “Serves you right, you little slut. That’s what you get for sleeping with strange men.”

  I growl in Hailey’s direction. She may be right but her judgmental remarks are really not helping the situation.

  Amber shoos her away with a flick of the wrist. “Ruthie, don’t let Hailey the Hater make you feel bad. Love pops up in the most unexpected places. Look at me.” She rubs her palm affectionately across her growing stomach. “Spencer was totally off limits to me – he was a client of the law firm’s – and then we fell in love and now we’re getting married and having a baby.”

  I love Amber to death, but she’s not exactly an example that I want to follow. Her relationship with her fiancée, Spencer Harrison, was anything but smooth sailing at the beginning. They carried on a secret love affair for months and when it finally came to light, it cost her her internship at Cartwright Moretti Stevenson. I still remember visiting her at the hotel room she was holed up in for days when everything came crashing down around her. I don’t want that for myself and I definitely don’t want to fall for Michael. “Thanks for the pep talk, Amber. But I have no intention of falling in love with Michael. He was a one-night stand. That’s all.”

  Amber sighs heavily as she rises to her feet. “Ruthie – you’re impossible to comfort. I think you just want to feel sorry for yourself.” She turns to Hailey. “You have any more of this ice cream stuff? It’s delicious.”

  “You already ate that entire bowl of sorbet?” Hailey asks incredulous.

  Amber looks visibly upset at Hailey’s question. “I’m eating for two,” she whines.

  “Sorry, sorry. Forget I said anything.” Hailey throws her hands up in the air in surrender.

  Amber grunts as she marches back into the kitchen. I hear the refrigerator door swing open.

  Hailey pouts. “Y’know, it’s really not fair that she gets to eat all that sugar and be pregnant and still be skinnier than me,” she complains.

  I laugh. “Look on the bright side, Hails – a least you won’t have to push a ten-pound human out of your body six months from now.”

  Hailey seems to ponder my comment as she taps her index finger to her chin. “Hmm, point taken.”

  Chapter 8

  “Would you like to answer the question, Ms. Salvador?” I pull my gaze from the light fixture where it’s been hovering for god knows how long and bring my attention back to Professor Garrett. “Ms. Salvador?” he says impatiently.

  “Um – the question?” I ask, feeling my cheeks heat up. I’m not one to gaze off in class – I’m usually sharp as a whip and Professor Garrett knows it – but ever since my encounter with Michael a few days ago, I’ve been a mess. I can’t concentrate on anything but the way his body felt against mine when he pressed me into his office door or the way he smiled up at me, the sunlight bathing his gorgeous face, the morning I woke up next to him.

  I can’t get him off my mind.

  I shouldn’t be thinking about him. I know this. But I can’t help myself.

  I keep trying to remind myself of all the many ways that Michael, gorgeous as he is, is off-limits.

  I never date guys from work – that’s my general rule. Plus, Michael isn’t just any random guy from work. He’s virtually my boss while his father recovers from the stroke. And on top of that, Michael was supposed to be a one-night stand. I was never supposed to see him again after that night we spent together. Yes, I do admit that I did think about him – a lot – after the amazing night we spent together, but I wasn’t pining over him or anything. He was just a delicious little memory that would spark the fire on nights when I was having “sexy time” with my vibrator.

  And I was cool with that. I was fine with that.

  But now, seeing him at the office everyday, knowing that we work under the same roof – that has my desire for him raw and acute and it’s all I can think about.

  “Ms. Salvador – do you have an answer for us?” Professor Garrett asks tapping his foot impatiently.

  “Um – could you repeat the question, please?” I can hear snickers spread across the room and I’m mortified.

  “Moving on,” the professor says curtly. His eyes shift to the student sitting beside me. “Mr. Tomlin?”

  “Given that it’s a consumer contract, the laws of the state of New York would apply despite the conflict of laws provisions of the contract,” my colleague says throwing a smirk in my direction.

  “Correct,” the professor says snapping his book shut and setting it down on the podium in front of him. He brings his attention back to me. “Sometimes, I cringe when I think about the future of the legal profession seeing as how some students can’t even commit to paying attention in class.” His eyes float back to Jim Tomlin, “I’m relieved to know that I still have students who take the study of the law seriously.” He glares at me one last time before he addresses the class. “I will email you your reading assignment for next week. Class is adjourned.”

  With that, he gathers his briefcase and shuffles towards the exit. The dozens of students around me follow suit, some still chuckling at the way I humiliated myself moments ago.

  I drop my forehead to the desk in front of me and groan. “Get it together, Ruth. Get it together.”

  Chapter 9

  Coffee.

  The mission is to get coffee.

  Most mornings, I’d have a glass of milk instead of a cup of coffee but after pulling an all-nighter to finish up my Estate and Probate Law readings, I need caffeine before I can sit behind my desk here at the law firm and start working on the research I’m doing for Johnny Trahn, one of the senior associates in the litigation department.

  It’s barely 7:30 in the morning when I drag myself into the break room, so I’m not surprised to find it empty. I shuffle over to the single-serve espresso machine I put my books down on the counter and grab a pod of dark roast. I hear the door swing open, but I’m way too tired to even turn around and see who it is.

  I hear footsteps approaching. Then…

  “Good morning.” Deep, groggy, masculine. My body reacts the same way it did that morning I woke up next to him in my bed.

  I spin around. My eyes are saucers. “Michael!”

  My palms become sweaty and my heart is racing at the sight of him, all tall, tanned and handsome. His dark hair is pushed back from his handsome face. His white shirt is crisp under his navy blue tailored suit.

  “How are you this morning, Ruth?” he asks impassively as his long arm stretches past me to the shelf on the wall and grabs a cup. The scent of him – spicy and clean – has me heady.

  My voice comes out in a shaky whisper. “Fine.” He takes the coffee pod from my clammy hand and pops it into the machine after setting the empty cup under the dispenser.

  His eyebrow hitches up when he glances over at my stack of books on the counter and notices the hot, erotic romance novel sitting at the top of the pile. His lips twist into a perversely sexy smile. “Unraveled after Dark?” I’ve been trying to finish this book for the past month before the film version is released in movie theaters. That’s why I lugged it to work with me this morning in the hopes of reading a few pages during my commute.

  Now, looking at the smirk
on Michael’s face, I wish I had left it home. He must think that I’m a sex freak.

  “The author’s a client of my entertainment law practice,” he mentions unceremoniously turning back to the coffee machine. He must notice my discomfort because he quickly changes the subject. “Anyway, it’s pretty muggy for September. Don’t you think?” He yanks on his tie. “Usually, it’s started to cool down a bit by now,” he says nonchalantly as he slices open a fresh bran muffin a slathers on a generous spread of butter. He breaks off a large piece and shoves it into his mouth.

  My tongue darts out instinctively and slides across my bottom lip as I watch him. “Yes,” is all I can say. Dammit – even the way he chews is sexy. I feel like I’m in a trance.

  He leans against the counter next to me and crosses one leg over the other casually as he continues to speak while the coffee brews. “You’d think that I’d be used to the heat seeing as I live in California, but I don’t know – New York heat is different – it gets under your skin and makes you feel like you’re melting from the inside out.” He chuckles a bit to himself as he breaks off another piece of the buttery muffin.

  My voice is caught in my throat. I open my mouth, but no words come out.

  Michael turns to me. His voice drops low. “You’re not too sociable in the morning, are you, Ruth?” He inches close to me. I’m so overwhelmed by his energy that my eyes flutter shut for just a moment. “You’re not a morning person – I remember. I remember everything about that morning I woke up in your bed…and everything about the night before. I can’t stop thinking about it even though I know that I should.” The words roll off his tongue like soft serve ice cream, slowly melting down the side of a cone on a hot summer day.

  My skin is hot and clit thuds as he speaks. I remember that night, too. Every delectable moment of it.

  He brings the piece of muffin to my mouth and my lips part spontaneously. The tips of his fingers slide just past my lips as the muffin hits my tongue. My lips instinctively clamp down around his fingers and I suck lightly. I moan, completely mesmerized by him.

  His hand drops to my hip, just on the subtle curve, and he takes a step even closer to me. His eyes blaze with desire and his chest heaves with labored breaths. He blows hot air on the side of my neck. My heart quits beating. My breathing hitches.

  Is he going to kiss me?

  Just then, the break room door swings open and the server appears pushing a cart of fruits and juices and snacks.

  Michael jolts softly before reaching behind me and taking the cup of coffee from the machine. He places it in my trembling hands. “Have a wonderful day, Ruth,” he whispers leaning into my ear. “Now that I’ve seen you, I know that I will.” I feel his erection graze against my hip just before he pulls away.

  Then, he turns on his heel, grabbing the rest of the muffin as he makes his way to the door.

  Chapter 10

  The techno music pumps loudly throughout the club as colorful strobe lights bounce from wall to wall. I take another sip from my bottle of water, trying to wash down my discomfort.

  Just a few feet in front of me, a dark-haired dancer wearing nothing but fishnet stockings, nipple pasties and an elaborate black mask gyrates inside of a large cage. On the small stage at the front of the room, a topless redhead twirls around on the pole. I cringe when the light catches her face – she can’t be older than 19.

  Ugh – places like this make me sick. They bring back a flood of bad memories. I would have much preferred to spend the night in my bed, catching up on Unraveled after Dark. But coming here is practically the only way I get to see Teresa. We have a standing meet-up here at the Trouble Lounge once a month. We usually chitchat a bit when she’s in between sets. It’s hard for me to watch slimy guys grope all over her but I come here anyway – Teresa became like a sister to me during the tough years when I was young and lost. Still, I don’t agree with her choices although I understand where she’s coming from.

  Girls like Teresa and me don’t have the world at our feet, offering us a buffet of choices. We have to claw and fight our way out of the gutter and into a better life. I keep pushing Teresa to make better choices but she’d rather take the easy way out – stripping, drinking and getting high out of her mind instead of facing her demons the way I faced mine. I still feel guilty about leaving her in a hellhole like this but I have to accept the fact that she’s an adult and makes her own decisions. And frankly, I’m starting to feel that preaching to her is like beating a dead horse. I’m losing hope that she’ll ever change.

  “I scored!” The sudden shriek of her voice in my ear nearly makes me jump out of my skin. I look up over my shoulder and see her grinning excitedly as she waves a tiny bag of white powder in the air, her waist-length, bleached-blond hair swinging as she moves.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I huff, glaring into her big, dilated brown eyes.

  She adjusts her glittery silver tube top as she sinks into the seat next to me. “C’mon Ruthie! Lighten up! You used to be so much fun and now, you’re so lawyer-y and boring.” I look into her face, searching desperately for just a fleck of the innocence that shone so brightly in her eyes when I met her, back when we were both rebellious 18-year-olds fumbling around in big, scary New York City. But it’s not there. All I see is gaunt cheeks, hollow eyes and matted hair.

  I hate to admit it to myself, but she’s a lost cause. I can’t save her and I need to give myself permission to stop trying.

  I hear the words leave my mouth but it feels like someone else is saying them. “This club has no place in my life. You have no place in my life.” My voice sounds harsh but the words are true. Teresa and I no longer have anything in common. I can’t keep dragging myself to this strip club on the pretense that we’ve got a friendship worth saving.

  For a second, she looks at me with a blank stare. Then, she brings her attention back to the drugs in her hand, emptying the powdery contents of the bag onto the small, dirty table in front of her. “Sergei said that you would do this.”

  My blood runs cold at the mention of his name. Sergei is the scum of the earth. I can’t believe that Teresa would even mention him.

  “You go to work for some big law firm and you forget where you came from.” She cuts the cocaine with a weathered business card then leans close to the table and snorts it into her nose. Then, she runs a fisted hand against her nose. “Sergei won’t let you forget. He’ll never let you forget where you came from, Angel.” With that, she gets up from the table and sashays towards the stage.

  It’s her turn to hit the pole again.

  Chapter 11

  When my Torts class was cancelled this morning, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to head in to the office and get a head start on the trial prep that I’m doing for Jimmy Trahn. Photocopying and stapling copies of jurisprudence isn’t exactly exciting legal work, but it’s necessary in advance of trial. Plus, if I get the menial stuff out of the way, Jimmy might throw me something more interesting like helping him prepare his arguments.

  With this scheme in mind, I hurry through the lobby of the building that houses Cartwright Moretti Stevenson just after 11:30 a.m. I sprint to catch the elevator just as the doors slide shut.

  “Hold the door!” I yell, as I speed less-than-gracefully towards the lift.

  A large hand stretches out to hold the doors back so that I can enter.

  I freeze on the spot.

  “Michael!”

  He’s the elevator’s lone occupant. Of course. That’s just my luck.

  “Hello Ruth…” The way he says my name makes my stomach tighten.

  I shake my head slightly, summoning my good sense back to me. “Excuse me,” I say coyly as I reach in front of him to press the button for the 7th floor. He takes a small step back, barely enough for me to reach the elevator buttons. My arm grazes against the fabric of his dark gray tailored suit jacket and the tiny hairs on my skin rise up.

  I retreat to one corner of the lift and pretend I don’t fe
el his eyes blazing a lustful trail over my body from head to toe. I pretend to keep my cool. But my stomach betrays me. It growls loudly.

  “You’re nervous.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. He knows what his presence does to me. He knows that he makes me quiver on the inside.

  I don’t answer. All I can do is stare into his beautiful face as he approaches me slowly, boxing me into my tiny corner. My heart is doing somersaults in my chest, my pussy throbs in response to his closeness. He’s too close to me. Too close. Now, there’s nowhere for me to run. His hands come to my hips and his face dips close to mine.

  “Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, his eyes locked with mine.

  I’m aroused – hot and yearning for him. But I can’t give in. I scramble to think of what to say. “Someone might see us,” I say, swallowing past a lump in my throat.

 

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