by Hazel Jacobs
“Mr Dale,” I say, ignoring the slimy way he runs his eyes over me. Thank God for the hours at Fever where I’ve learned to shrug this shit off. I’m less able to ignore the way Christopher’s eyes seem to be boring into my soul, though. “Just to be clear… the damage to your door lock was some scratches?”
“It wasn’t just scratches,” he replies, discretely sliding his phone away from him which he’d been playing with through Christopher’s monolog. He looks annoyed that he even has to be here. “The idiot ran her key all over it. Totally messed it up.”
“Her key,” I repeat.
Corbyn shrugs. “Yeah.”
He leans back with his hands folded over his chest. He seems almost amused like he’s wondering where I’m going with this line of questioning. Christopher, on the other hand, seems to know exactly where I’m going because he’s narrows his eyes.
“So you gave my client a key to your home?”
“I’d like to object to this line of questioning, Your Honor,” Christopher says, standing up so we are eye-to-eye. “Giving a key to one’s home does not imply continued access when the relationship is terminated.”
Judge Hastings considers that for a moment. “I agree,” she says while I chew on my lip to hide my disappointment. “Tread carefully here, Miss Rose.”
I’m going to kill Luke Page, I think.
It’s one thing to join a tiny law firm and make it better. It’s another to embarrass myself in trial, and wind up never getting anything better because no one will hire me.
A part of me wishes I had Garth at my back in this. Or even just the girls for support. I usually enjoy both of my jobs, but right now I miss the exhilaration and support I get from Fever. I feel very alone in this courtroom.
“You’re quite right, Mr Cole,” I say. “But I’m more interested in why he gave her the key in the first place.”
“They were romantically involved.”
“That’s certainly part of it.” I walk back to my briefcase, feeling Christopher’s eyes on my ass as I go. Of course, everyone’s eyes are on me right now. The whole room is waiting to see where I’m heading with this.
I take some pictures out of my briefcase. They came with the file but they hadn’t had any notes with them, so I got the impression that Luke Page wasn’t planning to use them. But I saw something that I’d run past Jennifer the moment I saw her. It had struck me odd that throughout Luke’s notes nowhere had she actually explained why she’d broken into Corbyn’s house. After a couple of minutes of intense questioning, she’d confessed everything to me.
And that picture is my slam dunk.
“I would like to submit this… exhibit 19B… for your consideration,” I say, taking the photo and showing it to Judge Hastings. I see Christopher quickly riffling through his own case file to find the same picture. “In particular, I would like you to focus on the bottom right-hand corner.”
Christopher squints at the corner of the picture at the same time the judge does.
“A sock?” Judge Hastings asks.
“A bootie,” I reply. “For a baby.”
Corbyn’s reaction is immediate, though subdued. He clenches his jaw and turns his head to glare at Jennifer, who’s staring at her hands.
“Miss Jennifer Laurens was not in a relationship with Mr Dale,” I say. “Miss Stephanie Laurens was. Stephanie is Miss Laurens’ fifteen-year-old sister. She and Mr Dale had a child together, a boy, and Miss Laurens agreed to pretend to be Mr Dale’s girlfriend, so Mr Dale could spend time with the baby without drawing suspicion from law enforcement. It is, of course, statutory rape to impregnate a fifteen-year-old.”
Judge Hastings is frowning at the picture. Christopher Cole is frowning at his client, with a look in his eye that says he would dearly love to smack the guy over the head.
“That may be so,” Christopher says, trying to salvage the situation and drawing the attention of the room back to him. He has a way of doing it that makes me want to listen to him, even though he’s my opposition. “But Mr Dale is not the one on trial here. Miss Laurens may have had a relationship with him previously, but whatever the nature of the relationship she did significant damage to Mr Dale’s home in her attempts to illegally enter.”
“Miss Laurens was, to use Mr Dale’s words, drunk. Intoxicated. She argues that in her inebriated state she believed her nephew was with Mr Dale, and that she was required to go to his home and assist him with his care while her sister was at home… asleep.” I give Corbyn a hard look. “It was a school night, and she had a test the next day.”
Christopher looks like he would love nothing better than to throw his client out the window.
Our eyes lock and I feel a shot of something similar to electricity run through me. He looks me up and down and there’s a begrudging respect in his gaze, but not only that there’s a warm, hungry look as well. I know, because I have a terrible feeling that I’m returning it with one of my own.
CHRISTOPHER
I lost.
A part of me doesn’t want to believe it, and certainly doesn’t want to tell the partners about it, but at the same time I can’t deny the slam dunk that Ava Rose delivered to that courtroom. It was a thing of beauty. I had to adjust myself a couple of times while I was watching her.
That was one hell of a performance from a first-year associate whose boss didn’t even bother to show up to the court hearing.
The fact that my client turned out to be a pedophile certainly made it harder for me to want to fight for him. I got a little bit of satisfaction watching Jeremy drag his sorry ass out of the courtroom and into custody while Ava shook her own client’s hand, a look of fierce pride on her gorgeous face. Most people think lawyers’ morals have a price tag, but there are some things that even I draw the line at.
Looking down at my cell, I email the outcome to my firm partner as I head out of the courtroom, knowing I’ll have a vice on my throat the moment I get back to the office. I take one last look at Ava Rose, her cheeks pink and flushed with triumph, as she speaks quietly to the judge.
Watching her completely rip my client apart would usually piss me off. But right now I just want to drag her into an empty office here at the courthouse and bend her over something. She doesn’t seem like she would be opposed to it, going from the looks she’s been giving me. There’s something about her–something I can’t quite put my finger on–but the moment I laid eyes on her I felt something similar to possession take hold of me. Now I’ve seen her at work in a courtroom, it’s only gotten stronger.
I want her.
I want her very much.
While stepping out of the courtroom door I send another email to one of my interns–the proficient one.
Research Ava Rose from Page & Sons. Want info on my desk by the time I get back to work.
I stick my phone back in my pocket and keep walking. Outside, the sun is shining in the sky. The case didn’t take too long, but the sun sets early these days. It always takes me a while to get used to it, that feeling the day is ending and my life is passing too quickly. Ava is probably too young to have such a problem.
Too young, but sure as hell not as innocent as she looks. No, something tells me that the vanilla look is just an act.
As I walk back toward my bike in the courthouse’s parking lot, I hear the tell-tale click of heels on the asphalt behind me and smother a grin. I turn to see Ava Rose following me, her briefcase swinging in her hand. She must have followed me out of the courtroom.
Had she cut her conversation with the judge short to follow me? I know she’s as intrigued with me as I am with her, but I had thought I’d at least have to work a little bit.
“Mr Cole,” she says when she realizes I’ve stopped for her. “I didn’t get the chance to thank you for such an interesting case.”
“I wouldn’t call it interesting, Miss Rose,” I say, though I take her delicate little hand in my own when she offers it to me. It’s warm, but I’ve always burned hot. I see the way her chee
ks subtly change color as we shake. “At least, it wasn’t at first. I’d heard Page & Sons hired a secret weapon. Where did you study?”
She looks pleased when I call her a secret weapon, but when I ask the follow-up question she frowns slightly then drops her hand to her side. “University of Mississippi.”
I feel my eyebrows rise. That’s not even in the top one hundred universities. She’s too good to have been pushed out of the big ones because of academics. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if my intern gets back to me and informs me that she had perfect grades. It must have been money. I glance back down at her watch, letting my eyes linger briefly on the curve of her waist before shaking my head.
“It’s a shame you didn’t come from one of the big three. You could’ve had a promising career with Yale or Harvard behind you.”
I see her bristle a little bit at my words, but I can tell she knows it’s true. No wonder she found herself at some backwater firm like Page & Sons. No matter how good she is, if she doesn’t have a solid college behind her then none of the top firms will take her. I briefly wonder if she ever applied to Benson & Cole.
She probably did. She looks hungry. Not just for a career, I think as I notice the way her eyes flicker over me. I’m not far away from my bike and the sun is shining down on us, so I don’t want to stand around in a hot parking lot all day. At the same time I don’t want to leave without at least getting her number.
“But enough about work,” I say. “Why don’t you let me buy you a drink to celebrate your success?”
She looks surprised. “I… I have to get back to work.”
“Some other time, then,” I reply.
She scratches the back of her heel with her other shoe–a very expensive pair from the looks of them. No way can she afford those on a first year’s salary, not with student loans draining her bank account at the same time. Where’s she getting her money?
I step closer, wanting to be in her space as much as possible, and I’m rewarded when she gulps even as she tips up her elfin chin to try and meet my gaze.
“Have a drink with me.”
She blinks rapidly and I can feel her resolve loosening. I love this. This power that comes from drawing a woman toward me. It’s a completely different thrill to what I get in the courtroom or a board meeting. This is the kind of domination I can really enjoy, and not have to be subdued or deflect toward the partners because it’s good for my career.
And I want to see her beyond the courtroom. I want to know if the rush I’d felt when I saw her at work can be replicated elsewhere, and whether she’s as peculiar and intriguing when she’s not standing in the middle of a room with all eyes on her.
I could tell at the time she was nervous, as though she’s not used to that kind of attention, but she was very good at not showing it. So good that now, with the case over, I want to see how much it would take to watch her unravel. To show the cracks beneath that perfect little façade, to hear her voice crack and her breaths coming more quickly. I want to see her raw, and not perfectly put-together.
“All right,” she says. She pulls her phone out of her briefcase and hands it to me.
Tapping in my number I’m partly annoyed that she pulled her cell out first, but I make up for it by sending a text to myself so I’ve got her number as well. She’s not going to get away from me. I have to have this woman.
“I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Rose,” I tell her. I give her my best bedroom eyes, the kind that make most women melt, and she openly shivers. It’s a boost to my ego.
I turn away and walk over to my bike, shucking on my leathers and pushing my briefcase onto the seat with my back to her. I know when I turn back around, I’ll see her still standing there.
Sure enough, when I glance back before putting on my helmet, I see she’s observing me with eyes that could almost be called lidded. Not quite lusting, but genuinely interested. I want her lusting. So I slide over the saddle and give her a good look at me before turning the bike’s key in the ignition and giving it a rev.
She jumps, pressing her hand to her chest and looking at me with a suppressed grin. That, coupled with the sudden surge of power on my groin makes me even more frustrated than I had been in the courtroom. Good thing I’ve got the executive washroom back at the office, because I sure as fuck will need some alone time once I arrive.
I wonder what it would look like to have Ava Rose come undone on my bike? That’s definitely a thought that I should save until I’m not driving.
I give Ava Rose a brief nod and drive out of the parking lot, feeling her eyes on my back as I ride off.
AVA
I fly through the rest of my day and, before I know it, I’m back at Fever and enjoying a glass of cool water courtesy of our loveable, manwhore bartender. The sun set hours ago, taking with it the warmth and humidity, and replacing it with a cool calm. Stephen noticed pretty quickly I was preoccupied, so he’d cracked jokes until I’d relaxed back into the atmosphere at Fever about twenty minutes into my shift.
He thought I was upset, like maybe I’d lost my case today. And I let him think just that. The alternative would be explaining that I’m actually horny as hell and desperate to get home and spend some time with my vibrator.
Goddamn, Christopher has left me aching.
I keep trying to tell myself that he’s just one man. That I’ve seen good-looking men before, that I’ll see them again, and besides he’s way too old for me. He’s in his forties, at least, and I’m just pushing twenty-five. That’s one hell of an age difference and well beyond anything in my experience. I should have just acknowledged he was handsome and moved on with my life. But for some reason my mind keeps returning to him. Back to the sprinkling of salt in his black beard, the barest hint of crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes, making them look kinder even when he’s frowning through a court case. The way he’d stared at me made me feel stripped bare…
“You’re doing it again,” Stephen says.
I glance over. “Doing what?”
“Spacing out.”
Knocking back the last of my drink, I gaze around the room. There’s nothing that really needs my attention right now. All of the girls are happily engaging customers. Kayley is on one of the poles and working it like she was born to do it. Emma is laughing with three men from a Caesar’s Palace bachelor party, but I can tell which one is the groom from the way she gives him the slight cold shoulder.
“Just thinking…” I tell Stephen. “How much longer before you go over there and ask Kayley for a lesson?”
“This isn’t falconry, sweetheart, I can’t just take flight whenever I feel like it. There’s a time and place to ask for pole dancing lessons.”
“And here I was with a crisp fifty in my pocket.”
“Well, if you insist…”
I’m not even wearing pockets. I have never, in my life, found a stylish dress that has pockets, but if I did I would buy fifteen.
Kayley swings off the pole and takes a final bow, enjoying the way the men around her applaud like they’re witnessing the second coming of Jesus. Then she saunters over to the bar where Stephen’s already pouring her a glass of water.
“Whiskey,” she says, waving her fingers at him.
He gives her a look. “Water,” he replies. “Whiskey after.” He winks at me, which essentially places the blame for Kayley being denied alcohol squarely at my feet. As though, if I weren’t here, he’d be less concerned about the girls getting dehydrated. As though, if I weren’t here, he wouldn’t make it his absolute priority to keep all of the girls from passing out under the hot lights.
Kayley sighs but takes the water, shooting me a pout as she does. Even pouting, she looks like a goddess. “So…” she says, setting the glass back down on the bar, “… tell me more about the hot lawyer.”
I wince as Stephen perks up. “Hot lawyer?” he asks, delighted.
“I told you not to worry about it,” I hiss at Kayley, giving Stephen a significant look whic
h she completely ignores.
She tosses her head back so her gorgeous teal hair cascades down her back and her winged eyeliner is at an angle that could cut a man. “Honey, it’s all you could talk about when you came in today.”
I’ve made a mistake. I shouldn’t have told Kayley, but I’d needed to tell someone and she was the first person I saw when I’d arrived. She’s got this disarming way of making a person feel like they can tell her anything and she’ll somehow make it better.
It might be because Kayley has been in this game for a while. She and I are nearly the same age, but she appears to have so much more experience with life in general.
“Hot lawyer?” Stephen asks again, more insistently.
“Who’s a hot lawyer?” Emma asks, sidling up behind Kayley and taking a sip from her glass. She’s abandoned her men in favor of coming over to see what all the fuss is about. “Ava?”
“Ava argued her case against a hot lawyer today,” Kayley tells her.
“You argued your very own case! “Omg! Girl, that’s freakin’ awesome!”
“Hot lawyer!”
“Goddammit, Stephen…”
I glance around to make sure that none of the clients are paying attention to us. The men that Emma had left behind are laughing together, so they’re fine. Jaye and Josie are distracting a couple of other clients. No one seems to have noticed that two of the most sought-after girls in Fever are chatting with the bartender and the hostess.
“Is he huge?” Stephen asks, leaning forward on the bar so his ponytail hooks over his shoulder. “Did he use the gavel on you?”
“You are never coming anywhere near a courthouse–”
Kayley leans over to whisper in Emma’s ear effectively interrupting me. “Apparently he’s an older man.”
“How much older?”
“Forties.”