Breaching the Contract

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Breaching the Contract Page 3

by Chantal Fernando


  “I’m sure she will,” Laura adds. “Dad’s always busy, so he’ll probably ask her to come get us again.”

  My gaze snaps to Tristan, and I don’t miss the flash of pain etched in his expression before he masks it. I never thought about how hard it must be to be a working parent with a demanding career, but I see just how challenging it can be in his eyes right now.

  “Your dad has such an important job,” I tell Laura, shrugging. “I’m only working to become like him, so sometimes I can leave the office and he can’t.”

  I don’t know why I stuck up for him, especially when it was probably crossing a line to do so, but I think it’s unfair for Tristan to feel guilty for having a successful career. I mean, they get to live in a house like this, for one, but I know it must suck to not have much quality time with their father.

  “Why is his job so important?” Logan asks me, looking genuinely curious.

  Has no one explained this to them before?

  “Because not many people can do what he does.” I try my best to explain in a way that they will understand. “He’s very qualified and good at what he does, so a lot of people want him to help them.”

  “Cool,” Logan says, smiling at his dad proudly, while even Laura looks to her dad, an impressed look on her face.

  “I better get going. Nice meeting you guys,” I tell them, waving. I grab my handbag and head toward the door, with Tristan following.

  “Kat,” he calls, so I turn to face him.

  I think he’s going to say something, thank me maybe, but he doesn’t. He just opens the door for me and says, “Get back safely. I’ve seen how you drive.”

  “Well enough that you allowed me to drive your kids home,” I point out, arching a brow.

  His lips tighten. “Be there early tomorrow, Kat.”

  With him standing this close to me, looking into those blue eyes, I forget how infuriating this man can be. I almost forget how he made me get him coffee and then babysit his tribe today, too.

  Almost.

  “I’m always early,” I say, walking out the door. I have things to do and I don’t want to stand here wasting my time arguing with him about my driving, or listening to his questioning my work ethic. I’m not stupid—he’s better at arguing than me. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then. I’m sure you’ll have lots of other useful tasks for me to complete.”

  I’m all over the place with this man, back and forth, hot and cold. I don’t know whether I want to kiss him or kick him right in the nuts.

  Maybe next he’ll get me to polish his shoes or something.

  He doesn’t engage or respond, instead he just waits patiently at the door until I get into the car. When I pull out onto the road, only then does he head back inside and shut the door.

  I never know what he’s thinking.

  And for some reason, I really want to.

  chapter 5

  “TRISTAN SAID HE WANTED me to help you with some research,” Callum says, coming and sitting down next to me. He opens his laptop and starts pressing buttons. “He’s in a mood today, isn’t he?”

  Callum is still in law school, and usually comes in twice a week as an intern. I’ve found him to be pretty witty, with a mixture of dry humor and dad jokes. He can be a bit of a smart-ass too, but he’s actually pretty good company. He lightens up the place with his easy nature and laid-back attitude.

  “Tell me about it,” I grumble, showing him the research I’m doing on a murder case Tristan asked me to work on today. When I walked in this morning, I’d hoped that my babysitting gig yesterday had earned me some points with him, but no. He started off by sending me on a coffee run, and then made me tidy and organize his desk. After that he let me do some work on the case Jaxon had left with me, which I’m grateful for, but it wasn’t long before he sent me on another errand—to go to the supermarket for him to grab a few things for his lunch.

  He sent me to the fucking store.

  Inside I was fuming, but I did everything he asked and managed not to complain, which is maybe why he gave me some actual law work to do. I’m compiling all the information and evidence for the murder case he was just handed, so he can reference it whenever he needs to. I don’t know why he’s in a bad mood today, but he’s been tense ever since he walked through the door this morning. Unlike when I was working with Jaxon, Tristan doesn’t let me do my own thing in my own time. No, he keeps coming in and seeing what I’m doing, and breathing over my shoulder.

  I hate it.

  Jaxon never micromanaged me, and I really appreciated it. Tristan is a whole other ballgame, and he’s not an easy man to work with.

  Just as I’m thinking that, he sticks his head into my office. “Kat, I need you to be ready to leave at two thirty to pick up the kids from school.”

  My jaw drops open. Again? I grit my teeth and clear my throat, trying to calm myself. “I thought picking them up yesterday was a one-time thing.”

  “My nanny has a bad case of the flu, so she’ll probably be out for the rest of the week,” he explains, giving away nothing in his expression or with his tone. “So you’ll be helping.”

  He leaves and I turn to Callum, who chuckles. “You’re his bitch.”

  I purse my lips. “Shouldn’t it be you doing this shit? You’re the one still in school. You should be his slave, not me.”

  Callum pushes back his chair and raises a brow. “Would you trust me with your kids, if you had any?”

  “God no,” I say instantly, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s just that I’ve worked my ass off to be here, and it’s not fair that he’s making me do shit like this.”

  I know that at the end of the day, I can complain all I want, but I really need to suck it up. He’s the boss, and he makes the rules. I just need to do what I can and hope that Jaxon returns soon and reclaims me.

  A girl can dream.

  I leave Callum to finish the research and get ready to pick up Logan and Laura.

  “Kat?” Tristan calls before I’m about to leave.

  “Yes?” I ask, car keys in hand. What else can he possibly ask of me right now? To help them with a school project or something? Fuck, I better not have to papier-mâché something.

  “No junk food today,” he says, arching a brow. “There’s fruit and vegetables in the fridge they can snack on until I arrive with dinner.”

  How . . . fun.

  “I’m sure they’ll much prefer that,” I say, flashing him a saccharine-sweet smile.

  Blue eyes narrow to slits. “What would you suggest? Burgers and fries every day?”

  “No,” I reply, shifting on my feet. “We could mix it up you know, sometimes some fried chicken, or hot dogs . . . or maybe—”

  “Kat,” he chides, lip twitching. “A healthy fruit and vegetable platter will do.”

  “I’ll make sure they know it’s your idea not mine,” I say, waving as I exit the office. I take my car this time, since they’ll recognize me now. It’s nowhere near as nice as their dad’s, but it’ll have to do. When I arrive at their school, I park and stand out on the grass, where they can see me.

  I have to say, this is not what I thought I’d be doing as an associate at the top law firm in the state.

  chapter 6

  I DIDN’T MEAN TO SNOOP.

  But when I walked past Tristan’s bedroom and the door was slightly ajar, I couldn’t help myself. So here I am, in my boss’s bedroom, staring at the picture of him, his wife, and their two kids. They look like the perfect family, all of them standing in a row, holding hands. Logan is a baby, so the picture must have been taken several years ago. Tristan’s wife has long blond hair, and is tall and willowy, and resembles a model. She’s beautiful. Tristan looks so happy in the picture it makes my chest hurt.

  What happened to her? Did they get divorced, or perhaps she passed away? I put the photo b
ack on top of his drawers and eye his king-size bed covered in an expensive-looking gray quilt. I wonder if he brings women here. I can’t see him having much charm, but then again, he probably just doesn’t use it on me. It’s his job to have his way with words. I leave his bedroom and rejoin the kids in the living room. Logan wanted to watch Hercules, which we couldn’t watch yesterday, so we’re all snuggled on the couch, popcorn within our reach. I open my laptop and am about to start typing when I hear a big sigh from Laura. “Dad always works during movies too.”

  I slowly close my laptop.

  Heaven forbid I’m anything like Tristan.

  The next thing I know, Tristan is gently shaking me awake. I must have fallen asleep.

  “Mmmm?” I mumble, sitting up and realizing exactly where I am. Shit. I glance around, but the kids are fast asleep too. I sigh in relief, then rub my eyes. “What time is it?”

  He winces with an apologetic look. “I had to stay at work late, sorry. I tried to call, but you weren’t answering the phone.”

  Apparently because I’d decided it was nap time for everyone.

  “It’s almost eight,” he says, sitting down on the couch by my feet and running his hands through his hair. He looks exhausted. His skin is pale, and there are bags under his eyes. I don’t know how I never noticed that. With his hair now sticking up in every direction, he looks almost boyish, and slightly vulnerable. I should be angry that he made me stay here, at his house, being his own personal babysitter, but with him looking slightly defeated, I don’t have it in me to say anything.

  “How did we all fall asleep?” I ask, shaking my head. “That movie must have been a real winner.”

  He smirks and tilts his head, a sleepy look on his face. “If I’d been here, I’d have napped too.”

  “I can see that,” I murmur, studying him. “You look dead on your feet.”

  He lifts his hand to his shoulder, trying to rub what I assume is stress from the muscle there. “Yeah, it’s been a long day.” My brow furrows as I watch his pathetic attempt to give himself a massage.

  “I give a pretty great massage, if you need one,” I tell him, surprising myself at the offer. I must be more exhausted than I thought, yet I find myself moving toward him before he has a chance to say anything, and touch his shoulder. “Turn to the side.”

  He silently turns on the couch, giving me his back. I place my hands on either side of his shoulders and apply pressure, my thumbs circling. I can feel how hard and muscular his back is, he clearly takes good care of his body to remain so fit. I wonder what he looks like shirtless . . . I lick my lips as my mind wanders.

  He makes a moaning sound, a deep growl, so I continue massaging out the tight muscle. “That feels so good,” he says in a husky tone that makes my hands pause.

  With the sound of his voice, the atmosphere suddenly changes, the air getting thicker, the feel of my hands on him suddenly making me realize how inappropriate this is. I shouldn’t be touching him; he’s my boss. It’s just an innocent back rub, though, right? The racing of my heart and my suddenly dry mouth say otherwise. I clear my throat, remove my hands, and sit back, my breasts suddenly feeling achy, my nipples pressing against the material of my blouse.

  “How’s that?” I ask, my voice coming out thick.

  “Much better, thank you,” he says, returning to his original position and studying me. “You weren’t lying, you’re really good at that.”

  “Don’t mention it,” I tell him.

  Seriously, don’t mention it.

  I just gave my boss a back rub. That’s normal, right? Yes, totally, completely normal. I’m planning my escape to get my ass back home, when he speaks.

  “I brought food if you’re hungry,” he tells me, eyes on my face. “I don’t want you to have to go home and worry about dinner when it’s my fault you’re going home so late. I really hope Anne starts feeling better soon, because I don’t know how much more of this I’m going to be able to take.”

  His words feel like a bucket of ice-cold water being poured over my head. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take? I don’t know how much more of this I’m going to be able to take. It’s not that I don’t like his kids—I do. They’re great kids, even Laura, with her slight attitude problem, but this is not what I signed up for when I accepted this job at Bentley & Channing. I have goals, plans, and dreams, and me being here doesn’t help me climb toward them. Maybe there’s another opportunity out there waiting for me? I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.

  “You and me both,” I mutter under my breath.

  He ignores me.

  I take a deep breath, calming myself. He’s my boss, and he can make me do whatever he wants. I just need to suck it up and hope he starts trusting me enough to let me do some real work.

  “What did you bring?” I ask quietly, watching as he removes his tie and places it on the arm of the couch. This is so inappropriate right now. He’s not touching me or anything like that, but I’m in his house, the sun has gone down, and we’re acting like he’s my friend and this situation is normal, when it’s decidedly not. He’s my boss. My very rude boss.

  I need to go home, now.

  “Chinese,” he says, moving to stand up.

  I put my hands out. “Don’t move, you’re exhausted. Why don’t you relax a little? I’m going to head home now, get some rest. I already have dinner waiting in my fridge.”

  A lie, but I need to bail.

  I’ll eat toast if I have to.

  “Kat,” he murmurs, and something in his tone makes me look at him.

  “Yes?” I reply in a soft tone.

  “Thank you,” he says, locking his eyes with mine. His are gentle, and a little regretful. I don’t know what mine hold. I don’t want him to think this is okay when it’s not, but he’s clearly in a tight spot. He’s never told me what happened to his wife, or how he ended up the sole parent. Either way, he’s alone. A single father and partner of a firm who is trying to handle the caseload of two partners, and he’s trying to make it all work. I don’t have it in me to kick a man when he’s down.

  I nod, stand, and grab my bag. He gets up and walks me to the door, and then to my car. He opens the car door and waits while I slide in. I glance up at him, and say, “Get some rest, Tristan.”

  He nods and reaches out to tuck my hair back behind my ear.

  I don’t think I breathe while his finger traces my cheekbone until the lock of hair is tamed.

  He then steps back, waits until I’m safely buckled up, and closes the door.

  I drive home, not sure what to think about tonight’s events, about Tristan, about anything.

  THE NEXT MORNING, SOMETHING magical happens. Tristan, dressed in a sharp, black suit, brings me coffee, and just how I like it too.

  “Is it my birthday, or something?” I joke, grinning up at him from my desk. He still looks a little tired today, and I wonder how much sleep he managed to get last night.

  I get a lip twitch. “Or something.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him, happy I don’t have to venture out to get the coffee for us this morning. “Greatly appreciated. Although Jaxon used to bring me one every morning—”

  “Don’t push it,” he cuts me off, arching a brow.

  “I’m just pointing out the differences in mentor technique,” I reply with a cheeky grin. “What do you need me to do today?”

  I rub my hands together, itching to learn, to be productive. To make myself useful.

  He smiles.

  And then he slides a folder over to me.

  A real case. No cleaning, no errands. Actual law work. I smile and do a little happy dance.

  He chuckles and says, “You can keep working on the Curtis case, but I also want you to work on the Davensworth case I took over for Jaxon. You took some great notes during the interview, and I’ve made some
of my own. What he failed to mention to us is that the company that’s accusing him of the theft actually belongs to his biological father.”

  My eyes widen as I remember the man I interviewed. “His own father is accusing him of stealing money from his company?”

  He nods but then tilts his head to the side and adds, “Except he doesn’t know that Brenton is his son. Brenton was adopted as a baby and has a different last name. It actually look me a long time to find that out because the information was so buried, since it was a closed adoption.”

  “Do you think he stole the money as some kind of revenge? Surely this can’t all be a coincidence,” I tell him, brow furrowing at the possibility.

  “I’m not sure,” he says, tapping his knuckles on my desk. “It gives Brenton motive though. I don’t know; maybe we can play the sympathy card. Say he isn’t a thief or a criminal, just a hurt son trying to get some attention from his father.”

  “He’s claiming he’s innocent though,” I point out.

  “I know,” he muses, running his hand down his jawline. “I’ll be interested to see what else you can find.”

  “Me too,” I say, smiling with excitement.

  I’m back.

  And all it took was a morally questionable night of babysitting for my boss for me to earn his respect.

  THE NEXT DAY TRISTAN picks up Logan and Laura and takes an early afternoon to spend some time with them while I stay back and man the fort. Without either Tristan and Jaxon here, we all look to Hunter Braise to handle things in case of an emergency. Hunter is the firm’s family-law attorney, and he seems like a bit of a ladies’ man to me. He has one of those smiles, one that can talk you out of anything, including your panties. He’s hardworking though, always telling me that if I need his help he’s only a few doors down.

  “Did Tristan go home?” he asks, popping his head into my office.

  I nod, lifting my gaze from my laptop. “He said to call his cell phone if anyone needs anything.”

  “He making you do all his work?” he teases, plopping down into the seat opposite me. His blue eyes are filled with humor, like they always seem to be. I’ve never seen a lawyer with so many tattoos, but he pulls them off. I like the peek we get of them when he rolls his sleeves up. “How have you been doing with everything? I know it can be a bit chaotic when you first start, and with Jaxon gone . . .”

 

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