Once he had finally released her for good, she made her unsteady way to the bookcase and pushed the side. The bookcase swung out, allowing entrance to a second, hidden room. She knew about the secret rooms because her bosses had shown her, but she probably would have figured it out at some point, once she did the math of the size of the offices versus the spacing of the doors in the main hallway.
Trent’s included a full bathroom, a normal-sized bed devoid of sheets, and a chair. There was also a walk-in closet, empty except for three items covered in garment bags.
Maisie cleaned up quickly, then tilted her head to stare at her reflection. Her heart-shaped face was glowing. Proof that orgasms were better than blush. She fussed with her long curls, making them the right kind of messy, then used a damp tissue to tidy up her smudged eye makeup a little more.
When she emerged, Trent was sitting at his desk. Working.
“How are lawyers like babies?” she asked.
Trent raised his eyebrows, then lifted his gaze to her. “Haven’t heard this one. How?”
“You know how babies can sleep anywhere? Lawyers can rack up billable hours anywhere.”
“You have no idea. Come here.”
She walked over, and he pulled her into his lap, his large hand resting on her leg, his fingers splayed over her thigh. The casually possessive gesture sent all kinds of chills down her spine.
Trent probably had no idea that he’d set off a wave of forbidden longing. Just as well; she didn’t know what to do with it. One thing she did know for certain was that her bosses weren’t struggling with romantic feelings for her.
In a lot of ways, that made it easier. At least she knew not to do something stupid, like profess her undying love. She couldn’t complain—not many women got to live out their gang-bang fantasies.
What kind of woman could capture Trent’s heart? Someone gorgeous, educated, and wealthy.
She’d stalked him a little online, telling herself that anything she learned would help her become a better employee.
There were plenty of photos of Trent at fundraising benefits, and he only ever had gorgeous Asian women on his arm. They couldn’t all be his sisters.
“I’d love to keep you in here the rest of the day. My little sex hostage, sitting quietly and obediently at my feet, ready to sacrifice your mouth or pussy whenever I need release.”
But… Maisie knew it was coming, and she scowled silently.
Trent looked over. His gaze paused on her pouting lips, and he slapped her thigh. She used it as an excuse to press against him, and he smiled.
“But one of the other partners needs my help with an unwieldy case,” he said with a sigh.
“The heavy price of genius,” Maisie said, and Trent tried to repress a smile. He wasn’t vain about his good looks or his action-hero body, but he loved hearing how smart he was.
And he was smart. Maisie had sat in on a few meetings and had seen her bosses in action. They were all brilliant. There was a reason LB&B was the city’s top firm.
Maisie knew Trent worked hard, but he was so effortlessly cool, it probably looked like he was a legal prodigy. Same for Ethan. Raphael, in contrast, made it look like the most difficult thing in the world.
She wondered which partner needed Trent’s help. Surely not one of the three founding partners who filled Maisie’s fantasies. The other partners mostly worked in the other building and came over so rarely that Maisie understood why Jayne had acted like LB&B was a male-run firm. Maisie had only met one of them, a sturdy, dark-skinned woman with pale blue eyes and an incongruously high-pitched voice.
“Yesterday’s mistake isn’t a big deal, but some of the pages are out of order.” He opened the PDF on his computer and showed her. “Not completely your fault—someone must have changed the settings on the copy machine.”
Maisie felt herself go stiff, but she listened to the correction in silence. No, she wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“Is that all?” she asked. “Mrs. Donahue acted like I’d typed everything incorrectly and then shredded the originals.”
“There’s an additional problem with something you typed up, but it’s not your fault. I’ll see that she’s made aware. Which brings me to my second point, and then you can go. Frankly, you’re not suited for secretarial work, but the reports and research you’ve done were superior, Maisie. You’re an asset to this company.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, trying to focus on the compliment and not the criticism.
“I don’t want you running errands that take you out of the office. Not if they’re errands someone else can handle.”
No more dry cleaning? Maisie smiled. “I’m not giving Mrs. Donahue that news.”
“I’ll have a chat with her tomorrow morning.”
He tilted his head to look at her, and she stared happily into his dark eyes.
“The nature of your future here is something we’ll need to discuss. But later, when you’re not sitting on my lap and I’m not two minutes from running out the door.”
And even though her entire body shivered with needing him, he gently removed her from his lap and turned to his work, as if she were already gone.
5
Trent’s discipline and approval were exactly what Maisie needed. She wanted to impress him even more, and if that meant removing dirty glasses and watering plants, then she would work harder, pay better attention.
Still, she was relieved when Stella, Ethan’s assistant, asked her to research the history of a local bridge. But this time she insisted that Stella take some of her work in return.
Maisie was rather pleased with herself.
“Ready for lunch?”
Maisie looked up.
Jayne was standing in front of her in a dark, tailored suit that contrasted alluringly with her creamy complexion. Maisie had always thought women looked, well, manly in pantsuits, but Jayne was changing her opinions on that.
Her wheat-blonde hair was pulled up into an elegant ponytail that shimmered down over one shoulder. Whenever her hair was out of her face like that, she looked like a model on her way to a go-see.
Maisie scrunched her fingers through her messy curls.
It was petty, but she was glad none of the bosses were around at the moment. Jayne was too fucking pretty.
“These are for you.” Jayne lifted her arm to present a canvas shopping bag with a sketch of William Shakespeare on the side. Taking stock of the protruding sharp edges, Maisie concluded the bag was filled with books.
She raised a questioning glance to Jayne.
“For the LSATs. I’ve been cleaning out my hall closet.” Jayne placed the bag next to Maisie’s desk.
“Wow. That’s… thanks. You’re very generous.” Maisie had recently gone to a bookstore to flip through a few guides, to get an idea of how difficult the questions were. So she knew the books weren’t cheap.
Jayne shrugged. “If they’re useful, then I’m happy.”
Maisie grabbed her purse and followed Jayne to the elevators. A few other employees were already waiting, so Maisie didn’t say anything; she didn’t want anyone gossiping about her.
But when they were outside the building, she said, “I’m not sure I’m going to apply. I’m not the best student.”
“I know you’re only considering your options,” Jayne said. “But I figure if my little rant a couple of weeks ago didn’t scare you away, then you’ve got the right temperament to succeed.”
A violent flutter kicked up in Maisie’s stomach at the mention of Jayne’s rant.
Maisie was the one who’d reassigned Jayne’s pro bono case—an honest mistake. Well, technically not a mistake; Maisie had done it to help out an acquaintance from high school. It was stupid and impetuous, but she hadn’t realized that swapping the assigned attorney would cause so much trouble.
After all, the assignment had been written on a sticky note, not typed up officially.
As far as Maisie knew, it hadn’t gotten straightened out. An
d maybe it never would. Jayne’s fury had subsided, and no one had asked Maisie if she knew anything about it.
So far.
“I’d want to go to a top school, but I’ve never been great at tests,” Maisie said, feeling the need to fill the silence. “Though I’m a hard worker.” Classes had never come easily to her, and she’d often felt like she had to study her ass off to get the grades that other kids achieved while playing beer pong and watching How I Met Your Mother reruns.
“We’ll talk about all that,” Jayne said. “There’s a vegetarian Chinese place a few blocks away. I’ve been craving their General Tso’s chicken, if that’s all right with you.”
Jayne didn’t really wait for a response, just headed off. Maisie didn’t mind.
When they arrived, the hostess seated them in a booth in the window, and the waitress brought cups of fragrant jasmine tea.
“I love this place,” Jayne said as Maisie flipped through the menu. “The restaurants near the office are great, but you always have to worry about running into coworkers.”
“Now you’ve gone back to talking me out of a legal career, I see.”
Jayne laughed. “It does sound like it, but no. My colleagues are great, but I already spend too much time with them.” She launched into a fifteen-minute discussion of the pros and cons of becoming an attorney, pausing only briefly when the waitress came to take their orders.
“That’s a ton of money,” Maisie interrupted to say. “Six figures in debt?” And that would be in addition to the tens of thousands she still owed for her undergrad degree. “I didn’t realize the job market was so bad for new lawyers.”
“It’s abysmal, but LB&B would hire you, or at least give you a recommendation. You’re Raphael Lattimore’s assistant. A glowing endorsement from him is like gold. Really, it’s about who you know. If you want to work at a big firm, eventually your career will come down to the types of clients you can attract.”
“And what happens if I want to be an environmental lawyer or something?”
“You don’t seem the type.”
Maisie started to frown; she wasn’t sure if she’d just been insulted or not. Though it was true—she wasn’t the type.
Jayne blushed slightly, as if she’d just realized how her words could be interpreted. “Then get used to having roommates, I suppose. Do you live alone now?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah, but I overpaid for my condo. I was desperate to find a place, and it was spectacular, right on the park. Stupid of me.” She didn’t sound very regretful. “Ergo, I’m looking for a roommate. That’s why I’m clearing out the closets and common areas.”
“My apartment is for sale. I considered buying it, but…”
“No money?” Jayne sounded surprised.
Maisie nodded.
“Oh, that’s no problem. LB&B has a program to help employees secure loans at good rates.”
“Yeah, I heard about that. Maybe if I make it through my probationary period. But honestly, the asking price is out of my range.”
“You’ll make it through probation,” Jayne said, nodding sagely. “As for being able to afford it, you could take a roommate.”
Living alone was one of those things that Maisie wouldn’t compromise on; she would take a second job as a graveyard shift convenience store clerk in the city’s worst neighborhood before placing an ad for a roommate, and anyway her place only had one bedroom.
“More questions about law school?” Jayne asked.
“Not at the moment. If I may change the subject, Mrs. Donahue said something odd to me this morning.”
Jayne smirked. “I would assume she says something odd every morning.”
Fair enough, Maisie thought, but she hid her smile behind the cup of tea. Even though Jayne was easy to talk to, she was still Maisie’s superior. And a relative stranger. Who could say that Jayne wouldn’t stab her in the back the first chance she got?
And Maisie had Heather to thank for that bit of paranoia.
“This morning, out of nowhere, she told me how Ethan got his scar, but it doesn’t look like the side of his face got bashed in.”
Jayne blinked rapidly. “Um, probably because it didn’t.”
6
“What do you mean?” Maisie asked.
“He only got scraped up. It was pretty bad, but nothing was broken. You know how his cheekbone and jaw are kinda stiff? The hospital he went to had an outbreak, some kind of antibiotic-resistant bacteria. People died. Ethan changed hospitals and opted to have part of his face removed rather than wait for the culture to come back.”
“Oh. Wow. That’s awful. Why didn’t he wait?”
“Who knows,” Jayne said. “Why does Ethan do anything he does?” She spun her empty teacup on the table, leaving a series of damp, overlapping rings. “Between us, I used to have the biggest crush on him. He flirted back, though nothing serious happened. Thank goodness. Can you imagine?”
Maisie’s heart began to pound against her rib cage. The image of Ethan flirting with Jayne made her feel sick to her stomach. “What do you mean? Imagine what?”
“Dealing with that crazy intern,” Jayne said, and seemed about to say more, but the waitress arrived with their food. Maisie watched as Jayne picked up her chopsticks and began expertly shoveling food into her mouth.
Maisie used a chopstick to spear a piece of silken tofu in chili sauce. “What crazy intern?”
“The one who got jealous and shoved Cynthia off the roof.”
The tofu ripped and fell off the chopstick, landing on Maisie’s plate with a soft plop that made her shudder. “I think Mrs. Donahue didn’t give me the whole story,” she said.
Jayne was too busy eating to do anything more than grunt. Maisie wrestled with the tofu—the sauce on the end of her chopstick was delicious, at least—and eventually managed to work out a system, using the chopsticks as a scoop.
“Once upon a time, there was this crazy intern,” Jayne said. “Nothing diagnosable, but she was… well, she was nuts.”
“For example?”
“Oh, at first it was just a little batty. She thought Santa Claus was real. Stuff like that. And then one day she told someone that Raphael was her soulmate from a previous life, and he’d perished aboard the Titanic during their honeymoon.”
Jayne paused to signal for a refill of the jasmine tea. Maisie was so anxious that she started to push her own cup across the table, hoping that would get the story moving again.
Jayne noticed and smiled. “Anyway, LB&B was setting up for a party. I was stuck at the courthouse, filing something or other. I don’t remember now. Busy work for first-years, basically. So I wasn’t there. But Trent had invited a few people from building management, including this really pretty woman. Cynthia, I think. She’d gotten dressed up, did her hair and makeup. From what I heard, she looked like a movie star. People didn’t even recognize her.”
Maisie steeled herself against a fresh spike of jealousy.
“Cynthia asked the intern if she knew where Raphael was, and the intern flipped. I forgot to mention that she was rather… husky. She grabbed poor Cynthia by the hair and hauled her to the edge, then wrangled her onto the wall and gave her a good push. Poor Cynthia was hanging on by her fingertips. Literally.”
Maisie felt like her lunch was trying to come back up.
“Ethan and Mrs. Donahue ran over. Ethan grabbed Cynthia, tried to pull her back, but the crazy intern shoved him. He fell forward and hit the side of his face but didn’t let go. That’s how he got scraped up.” Jayne shuddered. “Mrs. Donahue was less than useless. She was screaming like she was the one about to plunge to her death. Raphael heard and came running.”
Maisie pushed away her plate. “That’s the craziest story I’ve ever heard,” she said. “What are the odds?”
“These days? Zero. The roof is restricted access. It’s a shame, because the view up there at night is incredible. It would be the perfect spot for a bar, you know? But Ethan refuses. Not ev
en if there’s a barrier.”
“What about Cynthia and the intern?”
“Cynthia took a leave of absence and never came back. Other than the PTSD and a few bruises, she was unharmed. I suspect she moved someplace flat, where none of the buildings are higher than two stories. The intern—I don’t remember how that played out. She’s in prison or an asylum. So, which one would you date?”
Maisie blinked. “What?”
A devilishly charming smile had crept across Jayne’s beautiful face. “If you were going to date one of the partners, who would you choose?”
There was no way to answer that question safely, so Maisie simply didn’t reply at all. At the moment, she was really glad she didn’t blush easily.
“Oh, come on. You went out and bought a new wardrobe. An expensive one. Your second day of work, you wore a dress that I know for a fact cost five grand.”
Five grand? She’d never suspected. Maisie felt herself paling, and Jayne flashed a grin. “Excuse me for being gauche, but if you’re going to be a lawyer, you’d better get used to talking about money.”
Maisie glanced down at her skirt and blouse. Like the dress Jayne had mentioned, it was one of the outfits that Trent had given her after she’d babysat a wealthy client overnight. Davina Ballystock. The poor woman was going through a messy divorce with a psychopath, who had disappeared. Last Maisie had heard, he’d resurfaced in California.
“I bought a few nice things, to fit in better at the office.”
Jayne made an amused clucking sound. “You’re trying to impress someone. Let’s see if I can guess. I think Trent is your type. Hell, he’s everyone’s type.”
“He’s… all right,” Maisie said, hoping that sounded asexual and innocuous. “I don’t think of them that way.”
How the fuck was she supposed to handle this? And maybe it was a test. Maybe someone else had noticed the way Maisie looked at her bosses…
She had to say something to extinguish the scheming gleam in Jayne’s eye. “Trent is scary.”
“Scary? Trent Banno?” Jayne laughed. “I… guess I can see it.” Her voice inflected upward, as if she were asking a question. “He’s intimidating in court; that much is indisputable. God, he’s brilliant. That man could work the angles on a straight line.”
Triple Jeopardy (Lawyers Behaving Badly Book 2) Page 4