by Gray, A L
“This is Anile Gooden. I will be working alongside her on your case Timothy.” Mr. Darks informs Mr. Allen, all the while his eyes are locked on me. I have no choice but to hold his gaze. His compelling eyes do the strangest things to me.
“I thought you didn’t defend suspected rapists?” Mr. Allen asks baffled.
“I have been known to make an exception regarding my choices.” Mr. Darks replies, still smiling at me. I think his answer has two meanings. I bite my lip at the sudden revelation.
“Oh really, when?” Mr. Allen asks curious, but Mr. Darks chooses to ignore his question.
“Please come in Anile, do not worry about Mr. Allen, he's teasing you.”
Mr. Darks suddenly saunters towards me. His hands are hanging loosely by his sides; his jackets' open; his long strides almost make the floor bounce as he edges closer to me. He looks dapper and deliciously hot! He's wearing a fine three piece silver grey suit with a figure hugging waist jacket. His hair looks wet and pendulous, but I cannot be sure if it really is wet - it might be the sunlight that floods his office, shining onto every raven strand. Hmmm, maybe I need to run my fingers through his lustrous locks, he shouldn't walk around with damp hair, he could get ill. Yeah, I don't think that is a good enough excuse to finger fuck his hair! Really? I think it's my best excuse to touch him yet!
He comes close to me. I instantly hold my breath before I inhale his intoxicating scent - I have suffered wit Darks flu long enough!
He hunches his neck and affectionately gazes down at me.
"You look lovely. Why are you wearing white again?" He smiles.
Holy fucking shit! I glance down at my suit. I'm beyond flabbergasted. My suit is one-hundred percent white! My God, this is going downhill - fast!
"I... I don't know. Should I go change? It will only take me an hour to go home." I give him a weak smile. I sink into my shoulders, shy, annoyed at myself - why oh why does this keep happening - why do I keep wearing white?
"Anile, you look stunning in whatever you wear. And please don't do that."
"Do what, Sir?"
"Fall into shy submission."
Oh my - did he really just say that? My eyes are agape.
"Ready?" He whispers.
He doesn't let me answer - not that I could even if he gave me the chance - he firmly slides his hand down the centre of my back. His touch sends euphoric vibes coursing throughout my vulnerable body. Fuck, I'm going to faint! He stops at the low of my back. He pushes a little hard, urging me to start walking. I take it upon myself to walk fast ahead of him, trusting my instinct to stop all physical contact while we are in the company of someone else.
Mr. Allen is perfectly sunk into the red leather sofa, looking old and lazy in his black leather trousers that he's too damn old for! I eye a bottle of wine in an ice bucket upon the mahogany coffee table. There are also two glasses. This time the glasses are not touching, in fact, they couldn't be further apart - why has he only set out two wine glasses?
There are only two chairs pulled out from the vast mahogany table - I'm now sitting in one of them. Mr Darks surprisingly doesn't sit next to me as I assumed he would, he sits on the red leather sofa, next to Mr. Allen. Fuck, now I feel like I'm on trial as they both eye me suspiciously...
Okay, I need to forget about the fact that Mr. Darks is analysing me. I need to find my inner-self and conduct this meeting accordingly.
“So, Mr. Allen. Did you rape her?” I ask completely out of the blue.
I watch as Mr. Allen's' and Mr. Darks' mouths drop the full twenty floors.
“Excuse me?” He snaps astonished.
Yes, I have got this! I smile knowingly. Mr. Darks tries to salvage the situation but I insist.
“As your lawyer - once you have signed our contract."
Mr. Darks passes me Mr. Allen's signed contract and smiles with curious raised eyebrows.
"Ah, yes. Very good - now you can tell me anything confidentially; you know legally I cannot breathe a word of what you tell me - unless you are confessing to a murder that you plan on committing in the future. The reason for my telling you this is because, I like to be prepared for anything, and if you are in fact guilty, I would automatically be ready for any nonplus later added evidence. Also, if you like, I can request that Mr. Darks leaves - for your satisfaction only though Sir.”
Mr. Allen stares at me, completely stupefied. I feel elevated, pleased, and totally in control of the situation -finally!
“Mr. Darks can stay Miss Gooden. I'm sorry about my rude judgement. I was...”
“Never mind the minor details Mr. Allen. We need to gather more evidence of the crime that you have been subjected to as a defendant; also, Mr. Darks and I need to mentally know what happened that night, just like you do. Can you please go over the night in question?”
Mr. Allen is all garrulous about the night in question. He forces he didn’t rape his wife but I know different. My mother taught me how to read between the lines of a man’s lies. Mr. Allen’s voice slowly emerges into the background as Mr. Darks gets to his feet. He pulls the other chair next to me and positions it so close to the point that our chair arms are touching. Him and his damn gestures! I unknowingly stop writing to take a quick look at Mr. Darks. NO! No is right - I know what will happen if I get lost in his eyes - we can kiss goodbye to smart Anile and say hello to the sappy side of me. He leans over my shoulder, almost touching my face with his. My breath hitches. His scent is overwhelming and his skin is just inches away, I could possibly lick his gorgeous masculine face.
“Write down everything, I'll fill in the blanks. You can be Alpha and I will be Omega; the beginning and the end finally come together.” He jokes. I have no idea what he means, so I just continue to write and ask infilling questions.
Once we have all the information that Mr. Allen is willing to give us - which I might add isn't much - he gets up to leave. I hold my hand out to him. We shake as a gesture of goodbye.
"It was a pleasure to meet you Anile."
"Likewise, Mr. Allen." I say.
I sit back down in an uncomfortable position, constantly crossing my legs and pacing through my notes. Why don't I leave? I could avoid this irrational feeling that's overwhelming me. My pulse starts to race, beating one-thousand times per minute as I hear the office door close.
Shit. The lion and I are going to be alone when he returns!
Chapter Nine
WHILE MR. DARKS escorts Mr. Allen out of his office, I get to my feet. I passively stare at his office door, awaiting his entrance. I know I'm playing Devil’s advocate by not immediately leaving but I'm so damn curious. I want to know his agenda, I want to know why he changed the appearance of Darks Lawyers - so badly!
He re-emerges. His presence is immediately potent.
"Fuck." I curse under my breath.
I quickly grab my throat while Darks flu infects my system without warning. I have no choice but to hold my breath, desperately trying to insure I don't inhale his essence. He saunters towards me, poised, controlled. One hand's placed neatly in his pocket, the other is straightening his dangerously immaculate tie. I stand very still. My gaze's fixed on him. His eyes are heady, influential - like allfuckingways when he has me alone! I immediately stop myself from gawping at him. The affect he's having on me is unhealthy - I mean, who feels feverish when they are in the presence of a man?
I quickly sink into the red leather sofa, mentally preparing myself for the next revelation - this could get messy, I know it!
“Comfortable?” He asks with an unreadable expression.
I flush at his open gesture. Does he mean comfortable as in - are you ready for me, or does he mean it because I look uncomfortable?
“Um very.” I croak, “very.”
“Ménage à Trois?” He asks and immediately offends me.
“No thank you!” I snap.
“It is wine Anile. I would never share you in a Ménage à Trois.” He says serious.
Once again, I'm puce! Ugh!<
br />
“Oh, eh, yes please.”
“It is not my choice of wine but it was a gift - and it looks good, so I will drink it. I try everything that looks delectable, at least once - regardless of the consequences.”
I swallow hard and cannot help but think that we are talking about sex, crap! What do I say to that?
“I try everything with caution. You can never be too careful these days. Even the most educated and respected person can be utterly deceiving.”
He nods in satisfaction.
“Very good Anile - you may now accept the golden apple.” He smiles thinking he has stumped me.
“I'm not Aphrodite, Sir.”
“You knew that?” He asks stunned, “hmmm, but you are Anile. Every woman possesses traits of the Goddess. Everyone is programmed to be the same without even realizing. I will accept that you are definitely somewhat different though. That's why I like you.” He says hunching his neck to look down at me.
His compliment does strange things to me - down there - but I guess such a powerful man has this effect on many people, especially women. I peer up at him from beneath my eye lashes. I feel a little intimidated by him while he stands tall in front of me. I'm hoping he will take a seat next to me, so we can at least appear to be at the same level.
To my utter shock, he suddenly starts to unbutton his suit jacket, paying attention to every single button as he glides his way down his hard chest. Holy shit - I'm hit with a heady cocktail of his spicy aroma mixed with raw leather. I wonder what polish they use on this sofa? It's so... fruity, like lemon. Hmmm.
Once he's finished opening his jacket, he lifts the wine bottle out of the ice bucket. He takes it at eye level so he can read the description - I think. I mouth-wateringly watch as water drips everywhere, all over his chest and his hand. The endless flow down his hand is forcefully erotic, like it's happening in slow motion.
"You're dripping." I say in a daze.
"That I am, Anile. Would you please pass me a napkin?"
I try to reply but I'm momentarily paralyzed by his wet shirt. It clings to his hard chest so perfectly. Oh my - I have the most powerful image flooding my mind. He's wet, soaked in glistening water. His hair is all tussled. His body's so shiny and soft.
"Anile?" He whispers, smiling secretively at me. I have a strange feeling that I'm not the only one with unorthodox images looming around my mind!
"Um, yes, sorry." I say.
I collect a crisp white napkin off of the coffee table - it's so soft, like cotton. I pass it to him with trembling fingers. He doesn't make physical contact with me while he takes the napkin, he just smiles, so perfectly, and leans his head to one side. Hmmm, he looks so damn good!
Focus Anile!
He drops the napkin back onto the table, it practically slides right through his fingers. He hasn't even wiped his shirt - why the bloody hell did he ask for the damn napkin if he doesn't want to use it?
He pours out the wine - one for each of us. I stare appreciatively while I watch him. His controlled elegance is mentally consuming.
"Here." He says as he passes me a glass.
"Thanks."
I sip the wine. It's garishly. It's cheap, with a deep taste of tangy grapes that haven't been aged properly - yuk!
"May I? He asks.
He takes my wine right out of my hands. He turns the glass so carefully so he can drink where I once drank - oh my! He licks the outside of the crystal where my lipstick lingers. He closes his eyes. He locks lips with the wine glass and takes a huge gulp. How in the bloody hell can he make drinking wine look so fucking erotic?
"Odious but delicious. It must be your essence." He smiles.
My mouth is agape - REWIND, REWIND!
He gently leans down towards me - I'm hoping he wants to taste my lips this time. Annoyingly, he passes me back my wine glass. I hold it with both hands, clutching to hard. I bite my lip as I decide on whether to lick the glass where he drank. Hmmm, I bet his spicy scent would taste much, much better than this crap wine.
For some reason, the air between us suddenly changes. I peer up at him. His face turns hard. His eyes become hooded. He's in deep thought.
“What do you want Anile?” He asks clipped.
His question rings my mental alarm bells.
"What do you mean?”
“Well, why are you still here in my office when you should be working? You should at least try to obey your contract terms.”
I feel disquieted, shocked! Why's he now being obtuse? Surely he must know that we need to discuss our previous meeting.
“Um, I thought we could go over the meeting. I'm a little shocked that you took the case as he is the defendant, and everyone knows you don't defend the accused. I also want to discuss why you gave me the case - and just to finish, I have not signed any contract, yet.” I joke.
"No you haven't, why?"
"I haven't what?"
"Signed your contract."
I shake my head displeased - why's he answering my question with another question?
"Please answer my question Mr. Darks." I ask with angelic eyes, hopeful that I can disarm him.
“I took it to help you, it's that simple. You know, you could have left the notes, you got enough information that I can use to work with alone." He challenges.
"I thought we should discuss it together."
"Why?"
"Why? Because we are both on the case."
"Don't be coy with me Anile."
"Coy? I'm not being coy. I want to discuss the case, that's all."
"Anile, I can sniff out an agenda when I see one. Do you want me to fuck you now? Is that it - have you decided that you made a mistake turning me down last night?"
Holy fucking shit! This has to be the worst case of misinterpretation!
"No, yes - no, I mean..." I'm lost for words. What the hell is wrong with him?
"Well?"
"Well what?" I ask perplexed.
"Don't beat around the bush Anile, I am a very impatient man. What do you want - me, now, on this very sofa? You can either tell me your agenda, or you can leave!"
I place my glass safely on the table because my hands start to shake a little more due to my rising temperature. I have no idea what to say and he has officially pissed me off!
"You think to highly of yourself - it isn't all about you." I snap with an antagonized expression. I get to my feet and stand strong besides him.
"Am I wrong?" He challenges.
"Wrong about what? You know, you're not making much sense."
"Am I wrong about your agenda - do you want me to fuck you?" He smiles. His face is wicked, unholy.
"You know, if you took the time to really evaluate the situation, you would see that I'm genuinely trying to work."
I stand firm pointing my index finger at him. He walks past me, never looking at me. Bastard!
He sinks into the sofa, smiling like the devil himself.
"Oh, that must be what I missed." He jokes.
He leans back, descending deeply into the sofa. He crosses his legs, slowly. He starts to roll his index finger across his bottom lip. He stares at me, utterly amused with himself. He doesn’t answer me, so I storm over to my papers and gather them off of the chair - scoffing and tutting to myself. I feel my body almost emerge into two, trying to duplicate and create numbers for war; I'm now Zeus and I'm ready to hang this Bastard in the sky!
“Prick!” I snap. I start walking towards his office door, annoyed, baffled and pique.
"Very elegant." He jokes.
"Why don't you go fuck yourself!"
I look around to quickly face him. I smile as he once did - unholy- Jesus he has caused a raging heat to burn inside me! I almost feel like trashing his office!
“Stop!” He commands, “turn around Anile.” His words come singular, masterful.
I stop, but I don't turn around.
I don't understand him - last night he was so pleasurable and lovely, and now, he's being such an evil
Bastard, but why?
“Turn, around, now. Do, not, defy, me, Anile!” He orders elongating every word again.
I quickly turn to face him - the gloves are coming off - I'm fucking fuming! I point my finger directly at him.
“I am not your submissive wife! I do not have to obey you in any form! God you are so annoying, and full of yourself! You are nice, rude, sweet, nasty, you are everything rolled into one Bastard and I cannot stand you sometimes!”
He suddenly boils over. His gorgeous blue eyes turn black. He quickly gets to his feet, faster than lightning. He almost runs at me with his arms held firmly down by his sides. His hair blows in every direction from his stomping speed - holy shit he looks scary! I drop my papers all over the floor. I rush to leave. I reach the door and open it a few inches but he instantly stops me. He slams it shut. He cages me in with his arms either side of my head, placed flat against the door.
His heady aroma hits me before his words do. Spice, old spice. The scent causes my brain to crash, my throat to burn, my heart to suddenly feel heated - fuck!
“Turn around.” He orders because I'm facing the door.
I can feel his breath on my neck, sending cold shivers down my spine - I don't like this. I slowly turn, trying to hide beneath my eye lashes - a stupid move really. He looks formidable. It's only now that I realize I have tried to practically take on the devil - what an idiotic move. No one wins against Satan or his troops. I need to get out of here. I close my eyes, mentally escaping him. I try to think of my favourite princess movie to escape. Cinderella. I want to be her. I want to be somewhat normal and have the chance to meet my prince, not this head fuck!
An unanticipated sensation touches me, forcing my body to quiver. My eyes involuntarily spring open. He takes my chin between his index finger and his thumb. He gently lifts me to meet his eyes. His touch forces me to submit myself to a dark desire that I'm unknowingly desperate for - him. I look up at him. Worry lines my tummy, but as I gaze into his eyes, I'm relieved to see that they are soft, affectionate and crinkle free. I relax a little. I allow air to fill my momentarily deflated lungs.