Sleeping With The Billionaire - A Standalone Royal Alpha Billionaire Prince Romance (New York City Billionaires - Book #2)

by Alexa Davis

  “Hmm. And who is this client?” I hesitated, knowing this was where I would lose their support.

  “His, sir.”

  “And she is what, to you?”

  “The opposition.” He arched an eyebrow at me.

  “You expect anyone to believe you’re making these allegations of him out of the goodness of your heart?” I barked out a laugh.

  “No. But it doesn’t change the fact that a young woman, barely an adult, just attempted suicide because of how helpless his coercion made her feel. I can’t just ignore that.” He sat, silent, and I waited impatiently. Finally, after almost five minutes of being ignored, I tried to leave, but as I stood, he grabbed my arm, hard enough to surprise me.

  “You are effectively on paid administrative leave, Mr. Hargrave. If we are going to bring allegations of illegal activity to the Bar Association, you can’t be involved.” I dropped back to the bench with a painful thump.

  “You’re suspending me, because I used to work for his firm?”

  “Exactly. And before we file. Your new little helper, too. Anyone who was in that courtroom with you cannot be associated with us while we file.” Shaking with anger, I could only nod my head, afraid of what I would say. “And if you stay on, then Cripke and Company might try to claim the lawsuit of our Mrs. Peele as the reason, instead of his behaviors. I can’t go to the Bar with one incident, that just so happens to be a lawsuit we’re involved with, and expect them to take us seriously.” I nodded again, as the red haze of anger ebbed away and was replaced by logic.

  “I’ve kept a few notes about previous cases, if it helps.”

  “What will help is if you’ve kept your own nose clean. We’re launching an investigation into the entire lawsuit, and everything about you will be scrutinized as much as him.” I thought about Libby, and how the relationship I had with her would be considered unethical as well. My heart sank, but I knew that I had no choice but to let Libby and Olivia go, if I wanted to make sure they had the best future possible. Defeat settled over me like a dark cloud. There was nothing I wanted more, in that moment, than to take back everything I’d said, and pretend Jameson wasn’t at least partially responsible for Andrew’s young widow ending up in a psych ward.

  “It’s a shame we’ll never know the extent of the damage Carl Jameson did to Kristy Peele, Pop,” I said to the old lawyer. “There’s a girl who ended up in the hospital, and I only wish we could do more to help her without being accused of unethical behavior ourselves.” Pop nodded and pursed his lips.

  “No longer your concern, Tucker. Just make sure your secretary knows that your case files will be picked up by various others over the next few weeks, and I’ll let you know when the internal investigation is complete and submitted.” I went back to my office, my mind reeling. I had been with the firm for less than a year, and they were investigating me for the ethics council. I couldn’t help but go over every single thing I’d done over the months, every motion, every document I’d created. I felt sick with dread, that if I had made a mistake—no matter how inadvertent—I would be held as accountable, if not more so, than the man I was trying to stop.

  Worse than anything else was the need to remove Libby and little O from my world while I was under investigation. Maybe Libby would be waiting for me when I came back around, but even if she was, I felt like I was letting her down. The judge would never decide in the middle of an ethics investigation, which meant that my decision had cost Libby for possibly months more, if not forever. I dialed her number as I made notes for Cynthia to pass on before the two of us vacated the building. Pop knocked on my door and mouthed, “Twenty minutes,” and I nodded and started stacking things that needed to go back to the library downstairs, wishing I’d had the foresight to at least clean my office before I’d done anything else.

  I left Libby a message, and gave Cynthia her checklist, which she went through quickly and efficiently. Security showed up to check our bags for sensitive documents and escorted us out of the building, only increasing the sensation of doubt and fear that sat like lead in my gut. Standing outside, chatting with Mark, our head of security, he asked Cynthia what she was going to do with her time.

  “Study old case files and get ahead on my reading,” she admitted. I still have to actually take the Bar exam, after all.”

  “What about you, Tuck? You seem pretty quiet.” I sucked in air and pursed my lips before exhaling.

  “I’m probably going to go back over every case I’ve ever negotiated or tried, to see if I’ve ever made a mistake that’s going to kick me in the butt.” Mark laughed.

  “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Even when Pop called me into his office, he didn’t seem too worried. Just said to give you all the time you needed, and take your laptop to IT to get wiped after everything was saved to the server for Pop to look at. It sounds to me, like you’re just getting a paid vacation.” He clapped me on the shoulder and tipped his hat to Cynthia, before heading back inside.

  “Is it weird that we just had a nice chat with security, after being escorted out of the office and having our passwords and keycards revoked?”

  “Only if we get found guilty of misconduct. I don’t know if that would even affect you since you’re a student, and not actually culpable for your actions.” She shrugged and dug her keys out of her purse.

  “I think you did the right thing, and if I had the right to, I’d stand by you all the way. Since I’m just an intern, all I can do is report what I’ve seen, and I saw how that girl looked. I heard what she said, and I was at the hospital. You did the right thing, and I am stoked that I get paid to sleep in tomorrow.” I grinned.

  “You will be allowed back before I am, so unless they immediately assign you to someone else, I’d like you to pick up where you left off today, okay?”

  “Okay, but are we going to talk at all before then?” I shook my head and frowned.

  “No. We’ll stay away from Libby and Kristy, and just hang in there until they tell us we’re cleared. I just want to avoid even the appearance of questionable behavior. I’m suddenly grateful so little of my work is courtroom-related,” I laughed. She wrapped her skinny arms around me in giant hug, her keys digging into my back.

  “Thanks for giving me a chance. I can’t believe that I’ve had the opportunity to watch the legal process at work, and I’ve learned so much.” I held her at arms’ length and chuckled.

  “I’ll see you soon, you don’t have to worry. But you are very welcome. I know you’ll make a great attorney.” I put my arm over her shoulders and hugged her back, her spiky black hair poking me in the chin. “Go have fun. Make it to the beach before you must get back to work. They’re going to give you three times as much, to make up for paying you to sit on your ass.” She laughed and nodded, and we split up, me heading to the covered parking reserved for attorneys, her to the permitted street parking.

  It was going to be a long couple of weeks, waiting to find out if I was going to be pulled under with Carl. In the end, even if I lost my job, it was worth it as long as he could be stopped from hurting anyone else. Cripke, Cripke, and Stokes had always done what they could to bury anything their partners did just to get the win. I sincerely hoped that it bit them in the ass, and glanced skyward. I’d never been a religious man, but if God was listening, he heard me ask him to protect Libby and Olivia, and Andrew’s young widow, from the greed and selfishness of the world around them. They needed all the help they could get.

  Chapter Twenty

  Libby

  It was Parents Day, and as I finished hanging garlands across the doorways and put the last paper flower into the last cardboard vase, I patted myself on the back for the umpteenth time for planning ahead and having everything done the week before. Even the couple of days I’d taken off to try to support and get to know Kristy hadn’t put me too far behind schedule, and with Paul’s help, the classroom looked like a million bucks.

  “This is the most insane and impressive Parents Day
party I’ve ever seen this school throw. And considering how fabulous I am, that’s saying something,” Paul half complimented, half whined as he started filling the pitchers with “big people juice” adding fresh berries and thinly sliced lime circles to them, before dumping in ice and water.

  “Um, thank you, and I can tone it down next time if you want. I guess I just got a lot of practice planning and executing parties when I was married,” I confessed. “After a while, it was the only thing I did often enough to get good at.” Paul arched an eyebrow as he added bottled water to the glass pitchers, the fruit adding a pleasing visual to the beverage.

  “Between your artistic ability, and your party throwing, you should be a wedding planner.” He snapped his fingers in the air next to his head, and stared at me until I flushed.

  “You’re a nerd,” I sighed.

  “I’m brilliant,” he countered. “If you started a party-planning business, I would even come work for you—after noon, of course.” I laughed. Of course, he wouldn’t give up his morning class of munchkins for parties. They were just too cute.

  “Okay, if I ever go into the party-planning business, you can come be my liaison and photographer, in a pinch.” He scoffed.

  “Why your photographer?”

  “Because that seems to be the number one complaint all my friends had. Their photographers showed up drunk, or they didn’t show up, or they were rude, or they did a lousy job. More than any other wedding day problem.”

  “Did anything bad happen at your wedding?”

  “Other than exchanging vows with a sociopath? Nah, it went off without a hitch.” I muttered, and Paul laughed hard enough to slosh water over his last pitcher. I stood back and looked at the room, every pale blue wall covered with the art projects and worksheets of the students. The tables were covered in disposable paper table cloths in the primary colors, and tissue paper flowers of every color imaginable were used as the centerpieces at each table, arranged by the children in tall rectangular “vases” we’d made as another craft project.

  Every child was represented in every space, and even I had to admit, the result was spectacular. Mrs. Dunham, the headmistress of the preschool, was sure to be happy with the multipurpose room when she came with the tea cakes and cookies for the party. Paul told me to take a break while he finished setting the tables, and I hid around the back in the shade, so I could watch Olivia play, without her sending me away.

  I caught myself smiling at a missed call from Tucker, and scoffed at my lack of chill when it came to anything to do with that man. I was disappointed and a little worried about the cryptic nature of his call, but texted him that I could see him after the party, which made my day longer than usual. I was glad he’d gone to his senior partners about Carl Jameson; glad for myself, and for Kristy and anyone else he had hurt. But I could hear the tight strain of worry in his voice, and wondered what it was costing him to take a stand, when no one else had.

  Paul stuck his head out the door to tell me that Mrs. Dunham had been spotted carrying bakery boxes, and would I please come in so she could lavish me with praise? I scoffed. Mrs. Dunham hated me, and only the positive feedback from more than a few parents even kept me in a job for the first few months. Eventually, we’d come to a professional understanding, aided by the other teachers, who diligently refused to tell her if I was late, or took a sick day. Happily, she was at the school so rarely, it was never really an issue.

  I picked up more colored paper, so I wouldn’t be empty-handed when I walked into the multipurpose room, and followed Paul. Mrs. Dunham hit the door at the same time as we did, so I instantly put down the reams of paper in my hands and took the boxes of treats from her, before she could demand it from me.

  “Well, someone has certainly gone to a lot of trouble here,” she said. I glanced up and was shocked to see she was even smiling. “Well done, Paul.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t me, Margaret. It was Libby, almost exclusively. The decorations were all made by her, or are craft projects she did with the children.” The corners of her mouth slid downward into her customary frown. “We’re lucky to have a teacher who can not only make her students feel like artists, she can make their parents believe it, too.” He handed the largest of the tissue bouquets to her, a gift I had encouraged the children to make. Neither of us added that the kids had been disappointed when we told them the flowers were going to her, instead of one of the teachers they knew and loved.

  Having been told that I was responsible for the success of the party, Mrs. Dunham apparently lost interest, and left without another word, depositing the bouquet on a shelf as she strode form the room. I mimed choking her as she disappeared through the doorway, and Paul muffled his laughter behind his hands.

  “Why does she hate you so much?” he asked when he could speak again, wiping the tears from his eyes.

  “I have no idea. My husband probably turned her down for a rendezvous and she blamed me, instead of his penchant for younger women, instead of cougars.”

  “Maggie knew your husband?”

  “Mhmm,” I muttered. “He represented her husband near the end of our marriage. It was one of the reasons you had to work so hard to talk me into applying,” I admitted to him, as I set the abandoned rainbow of flowers in a prominent place of honor.

  “Oh, no—he lost?”

  I laughed.

  “No. He won. A lot, if I remember correctly.” I started taking cookies out of their box and arranging them on plates. “Then he left his wife almost penniless when he caught her with another man. Prenups—what can you do?”

  “Oh, wow. So, you represent what she ‘should’ve had’ and what she ended up with.” He started on the opposite side of the buffet table, neatly arranging brownies and petite fours on the plastic platters I’d picked up at Dollar Tree. I was pleased to have found them. They were sturdy enough to make it through the party, but cheap enough to just throw away when we were done.

  The first parents trickled in with their kids as we were flattening boxes and tidying up the last of the crepe paper from our streamers. Their faces lit up as their children led them to their art projects, each unerringly drawn to his or her own work. Little hands clasped much larger ones and as they dragged their parents around the room, pointing out their gold stars and rainbow finger paintings hanging on the walls. Each child wanted to sit by their own flowers, and their parents chatted as they got treats and sat in little groups at the round tables.

  There was a certain satisfaction that came with each passing moment of fun that I saw the children having, and the smiles on their parents’ faces. Paul was right. Even though I hated going to parties, I did appreciate a well-executed celebration. I chewed on the idea he’d given me while I served fruit water and then wound my way through the tables, refilling glasses.

  Once the room was full, and everyone had taken a seat, Mrs. Dunham made her grand entrance and made a speech about the vitality of their children to our school, and droned on for a bit about how their tuition was spent. It was likely an important part of running the school, but even as I tuned her out, I saw children beginning to fidget, and more than one parent yawned. I glanced over at Paul and widened my eyes, silently asking him to help end this. He shrugged and gave me the same look back.

  I took a deep breath, shot him a glare, and continued to silently wind through the tables, whispering encouragement to the fidgety four-year-olds, and smiling at parents as I filled their plastic cups. I glanced at Paul as I got closer, and he warned me off with a glare. With a grin, I winked at him, and stumbled, meaning to splash him with a little water, making just enough of a disturbance to distract Dunham from her speech. Unfortunately, I was as graceful as I’d always been, and my face matched the pure shock and horror I saw in Paul’s, as I pitched headlong into him, dousing him with over half a pitcher’s worth of berries and water.

  Shrieks of glee and peals of laughter went up from the children after a moment of surprised silence, and I rolled over and looked up from th
e floor, at Mrs. Dunham’s crimson face. Her nostrils flared, hands shook, and for a moment, I thought she might hit me, which I found a bit of an overreaction, since the man I’d just soaked was laughing as hard as the kids were.

  Paul slipped and slid in the soggy, squished berries and helped me to my feet, while Laura, the afternoon teacher’s aide, encouraged the children and their parents to spend some time in the new playground their tuition had provided. Once I was upright again, I immediately went for the mop bucket, while Paul escaped to the teacher’s lounge for a spare shirt he kept in his locker, ever since a flu outbreak had taught him the value of having extra clothes on site. I busied myself mopping up, my knees still a little shaky and weak from my fall, and a pain in my jaw from where I’d been unable to save my face, choosing to keep the glass carafe from breaking instead.

  I almost fell again, when I turned around and Mrs. Dunham was standing there shooting daggers at me while she shook with rage.

  “Mrs. Dunham, are you okay?” I asked, already sure I didn’t want her to answer.

  “You ruined everything,” She spat at me, taking one step toward me. I fought to stand my ground, surrounded by a puddle and the sad remains of fruit that I hadn’t mopped up yet.

  “I hardly think that the entire day was ruined by my fall, Mrs. Dunham. If you let yourself calm down, you will see that the only people not smiling are you and me. As for me, I am wet, in pain, and embarrassed that I fell and smacked my face on the floor. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Thanks for your concern, by the way.”

  “You stupid bitch.”

  “Hey!” A voice called out from the doorway behind me. I turned, and there was one of our dads, his daughter holding his hand. Mrs. Dunham’s face bled from beet red to ashen as he held his hands over his daughter’s ears. “We came to see if you were okay, Miss Libby. You’re Katy’s favorite teacher, she couldn’t play until she knew you weren’t hurt.”