Snow and Seduction (A Holiday Romance)

by Evelyn Moreau

  Snow and Seduction

  Evelyn Moreau

  SNOW AND SEDUCTION

  Copyright © 2018 by Evelyn Moreau

  Credits: Cover Art by Opium House

  Self-Published First E-Book Edition: December 2018

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are fictitious, or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual locales or actual persons, living or dead, is entirely and purely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. No part of this original work may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever without written permission of the author.

  For questions and comments about this book, please contact the author.

  Contact Information:

  www.evelynmoreau.com

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  Chapter 1

  Christmas was, and would always be, a holiday for chumps.

  Then again, that type of mentality was to be expected from someone who thought Christmas was just a convenient vacation day.

  It was no secret that Kennedy Notyce hated the holidays and all of their fixings.

  The compulsory over-exaggerated cheer. Parents rushing to get their kid’s photoshoots with creepy Santa look-alikes. The obsession with over-the-top gifts. The ridiculous tradition of cutting down a perfectly healthy tree to decorate it with baubles and lights. It all grated her nerves to no end.

  Any other time of the year, New Yorkers cared only about themselves. The city population was composed of fast-talking, self-absorbed assholes. Uniquely well-dressed assholes, true, but assholes nonetheless.

  And that was exactly what made her hometown loveable. Who could deny the charm of hungry yet, overly-caffeinated workaholics, stomping between city scrapers? The aroma of hustle and ambition was so potent that it all but wafted from the sidewalk grates.

  Or maybe that was just the daily stench of sewage and piss?

  Whatever.

  The month of December turned New York’s frenetic competitive energy into an overwhelming celebration of virtues and human decency.

  Okay, so maybe she was just a Grinch this time of year.

  However, on this freezing cold winter day, Kennedy was making an exception and using the sappy holiday to her advantage. She already had the jury eating from the palm of her hand. Now was time for the piece de resistance in her closing argument that would assure the jury secured a win for her client.

  She ran her hands down her jet-black pantsuit from J. Crew, smoothing down the imaginary creases. The faint sound of a cough tickled her ears as her eyes drifted over to the jury box. Her anxiety disappeared, replaced by pure adrenaline.

  The courtroom was her safe place, her refuge. Everything else in her life may have gone to shit, but this? This was home. It may have taken accruing six figures of law school debt to figure it out, but it was all worth it.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Flynn Whitlock built his tech company, WitTech, Incorporated, from the ground up – no help, no handouts, and with barely any know-how.”

  She did a slow stroll in front of the plaintiff’s table, passing by her client. Flynn’s face was stoic, completely blank. Kennedy knew her client trusted her implicitly. She made her way towards the defendant’s table.

  “The virtual reality software he’s made has changed the world. For the better, might I add. His technology allows anyone to travel the world from the comfort of their living room. It’s quite remarkable.”

  “While my client’s success made him an easy target for knock-off companies, that was to be expected. What Mr. Whitlock did not anticipate, was being swindled by his own business partner. A childhood friend that he trusted with all of his personal and professional secrets. Unfortunately, nothing is sacred when profits are involved. Not even friendship.”

  Kennedy paused dramatically to lock eyes with John Ripley. A bead of sweat slowly made its way down his forehead. It tickled her to know her words affected him. If she were him, she’d be nervous too. She tapped her fingers against her leg.

  “The only safeguard my client has is a right to a trial to recoup his losses and protect his earnings, reputation, and company. That’s where you come in, esteemed ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Fellow human beings, and more importantly, fellow New Yorkers –”

  That last line earned a brief chuckle from the courtroom.

  “Won’t you help me spread some holiday justice? You see, John Ripley is the worst type of criminal. He had everything to spearhead his own side projects– but that still wasn’t enough. The Defendant blatantly stole WitTech’s technology to sell his own brand of VR products.”

  Her voice held a sharp bite. Her eyes burned bright as she delivered her last few lines with the slightest hint of humor. “A naughty adult is never too old to receive a lump of coal in his stocking. I ask that you find the Defendant guilty of breach of contract, copyright infringement, and patent infringement. After all, it’s what old Saint Nick would do.”

  Guessing by the expressions on their faces, the jury bought her closing argument. Hook, line, and sinker. She looked at Flynn as she marched back to her seat. They shared a brief look.

  She did good.

  Damn good.

  Kennedy took her seat and winked at her client. Just as she predicted, it took less than thirty minutes for the jury to reach a decision.

  “The jury finds the Defendant–” the young female juror broke off for dramatic effect as she looked up into crowded courtroom.

  “Come on, come on. Spit it out already,” Kennedy muttered low enough that no one else heard.

  Standing on the balls her feet, Kennedy clutched the chipped table tightly. She glanced to her left to give her client a confident smile. If the jury ruled against the Defendant, Mr. Whitlock’s company, profits, and patents were secure.

  Happy client, happy paycheck, fat end-of-year bonus, Kennedy thought to herself.

  This ruling would set a precedent that blatant patent infringement would not be tolerated, even for tech start-ups. It would also solidify her reputation as an intellectual property lawyer. The senior leadership at Briggs and Bancroft would have no choice but to put her on the partner fast track.

  In a matter of seconds, all those people who told her she couldn’t win this case as an associate would be proven wrong. Those people who tried to break her in law school? Well, she’d have the last laugh. With this win, she’d show how grateful she was to the one woman who’d made her career possible.

  Call her cliché, but she wanted to make her abuela proud. Set her up for life. Take care of her. Make up for all the horrible things her selfish mother had done.

  The mother that abandoned you because you weren’t good enough. She shoved that errant thought into a tiny, dark corner in the basement of her mind.

  Her abuelita stepped in as Kennedy’s only parent, when her mother abandoned her at six years old. Yelena Notyce sacrificed her retirement in order to make sure her granddaughter had a decent way of life.

  As a first-generation immigrant, Yelena was a typical Afro-Panamian grandmother. She pushed for education which led Kennedy to excel in high school, graduate undergrad at NYU in only three years, and then complete her law degree at Yale. She wanted to give her abuela the world.

  She deserved it.

  Kennedy sucked down a deep breath and focused on the present. There was no point in getting ahead of herself. Gripping the table even harder, she waited to hear the fate of her case. Her career. Her dreams. If only the jury foreman would finish reading the damn verdict.

  “–guilty,” the young woman finally finished.

  B
ingo.

  Yahtzee.

  Please pass go and collect two hundred dollars.

  Kennedy’s heart soared. That promotion was as good as hers. Guess those bits about the Christmas spirit and Saint Nick really worked their magic on the jurors.

  Flynn grabbed her hand and pulled her into a light hug. “Thanks, Kennedy. I owe you one,” he said.

  As he embraced her in celebration, Kennedy’s face landed in the crook of his neck. Damn, he smelled good. Like toasted chestnuts and peppercorns.

  Spicy, savory, cozy. Inching her nose nearer to his neck, she inhaled one last time.

  Sniffing an extremely attractive client’s neck after winning their case wasn’t too unprofessional, right? In that moment, Kennedy didn’t care one iota. She was but a mere human.

  Who could resist deliciously-smelling manflesh? It was her weakness. After months spent buried in technology patents and case law, she deserved a minute to sniff her client.

  She took a step back from Flynn. She needed to get laid. Pronto. Especially if she was getting turned on by a client. Though she had to admit, he was a silver fox.

  “Just doing my job Flynn, just doing my job. This is exactly why you pay me almost four figures an hour,” she said, watching the business mogul button up his suit and reach for his winter coat. Even with clothes on, Kennedy could make out the hard ridges of his chest.

  He probably tasted even better than he smelled. She licked her lips then promptly reached for her own coat. Flynn Whitlock was gorgeous. Dark brown locks framed his chiseled jaw. Intuitive hazel eyes paired with a crooked nose while his olive skin hinted at Italian ancestry. She’d have to be dead to not notice his appeal.

  She blinked back to reality. Naughty thoughts about her client were not allowed. Any type of impropriety could jeopardize her stellar reputation.

  She was a go-getter that didn’t pull her punches. Not a flirty vixen. She wrapped her scarf around her neck.

  “I had to admit, I had my doubts about you. Well, not about you exactly, more about this case. John is a slippery son of a bitch, but you really worked a Christmas miracle, eh?”

  Kennedy tried not to be bothered by Flynn’s backward compliment. She knew he meant well. She snorted and shook it off.

  “Not at all. I only work miracles on Sundays in the kitchen. This win was a simple combination of good ol’ fashioned elbow grease and a small fortune spent on lattes.” She picked up her briefcase.

  He flashed her a perfect smile, one that should grace the cover of a magazine. “Whatever you want to call it, I’m grateful. I don’t know how to thank you.” His words were laced in sincerity.

  “You mean besides my hourly rate and fees? I’d say that’s thank you enough.” She tapped her chin. “Of course, I won’t turn down a good word to my bosses.”

  He unleashed another smile at her. She blinked a few times to shake off his seductive grin. Kennedy bumped getting laid to the number one spot on her list of priorities for tonight.

  Flynn shook her hand. “Consider it done. With the press surrounding this case, I doubt they’ll need my feedback. It’s been a pleasure, Kennedy. Hopefully no one is idiotic enough to steal my tech again.”

  “If they do, you know where to find me.”

  He squeezed her shoulder, then headed out of the courtroom. The echo of All I Want For Christmas Is You blared from someone’s cell phone. The sappy love song unleashed her inner Scrooge. Santa wouldn’t be gifting her grumpy ass with a man underneath her Christmas tree.

  Yes, her libido was out of control, but a date with her well-endowed vibrator would take the edge off.

  Kennedy rolled her eyes and planned her escape.

  The fucking holidays were the worst.

  The entire way back to the office, she half-skipped, half-floated, not even minding her heavy briefcase or the pinching of her sky-high pumps. Her shoe choice was completely impractical for a chilly New York afternoon, but red pumps were a necessary staple in her armor for days at court.

  Besides, maybe if she was lucky, her shoes would transfer some of her professional good luck to her pitiful dating life. She shook her head. Nope, not going there, she told herself hurriedly.

  Right now, she wanted to focus on her incredible achievement. At only twenty-nine years old, she was shooting up the corporate ladder by leaps and bounds. Excitement and kinetic energy flooded her veins, her mind thrummed with serotonin. Is this what an orgasm felt like?

  Probably.

  It’d been so long since she’d made time for sex that she wasn’t exactly sure. Who needed a sex life when you were at the top of your game in your career?

  Everyone. That’s who.

  Kennedy chuckled to herself. She couldn’t even trick herself into being an asexual workaholic. Whatever. Rewarding herself with convenience store booze tonight would have to be a satisfactory consolation prize.

  Her red pumps clacked against the concrete as she headed for the front door of Briggs and Bancroft. Quickly glancing down at her watch, Kennedy figured she could put in another four hours of work before heading out to dinner with Maya-Rae.

  Reaching the elevators, Kennedy pressed the ‘up’ button and quickly hustled to the empty car. Waiting for the elevator to reach her floor, she prioritized the emails she’d need to respond to when she reached her desk. There were two clients in particular that were going to need all of her energy and focus.

  Not yet, 15 more minutes of freedom. Then, we can shift gears to work.

  In her small office, she stashed her coat and scarf on the hook behind her door, then threw her purse in a chair. Just as she sat her tush in her plush desk chair, an annoyingly chipper voice hit her ears.

  She let out a sigh. When would she learn to lock her office door? Collecting herself, she plastered on a patient smile.

  “Hey, Kenn, glad you’re back. Are you free for the next few minutes? Mrs. B wants to meet with you in the conference room,” her youthful assistant said from the doorway.

  “Mrs. Briggs?” Kennedy asked, leaning back in her chair.

  “That would be the one.” Ruby glanced up from her tablet.

  Kennedy stared, mouth agape, at her oblivious assistant. “Roberta Briggs wants to meet with me? Right now?”

  A stupid question, really. There was only one person with the last name Briggs at the entire firm. Kennedy stared at her assistant, hoping that she would give her a clue, a breadcrumb, anything, about this mysterious meeting.

  No such luck.

  Ruby looked back down at the device in her hands. “That’s what she said. Can I tell her to expect you?”

  “Uh, y-yes. Yes, of course. I’ll be right there. Thanks, Ruby.”

  Ruby touched her stylus to the tablet and disappeared.

  Kennedy tapped her fingers on her desk. It was one of the less annoying habits that calmed her down. As a name partner, Roberta Briggs never met with associates. Ever. Kennedy truly doubted the woman knew her name.

  What could she want to meet with me about? Her sluggish mind raced to only one answer.

  Luke Whitlock’s case.

  All at once it became obvious. Roberta must’ve heard the good news about the case.

  She couldn’t believe it was finally happening. After years of working her ass off, this was the moment she had been waiting for.

  Was she ready? What would Roberta say? What if she didn’t offer Kennedy the partnership? Was she prepared to walk away from the firm?

  Kennedy resisted the urge to have a meltdown, instead concentrating on something she could control. Pulling out a compact mirror, she glanced at her reflection.

  Her big brown eyes were framed by expressive eyebrows as she assessed herself. Tucking a wayward lock of wavy jet-black hair behind her ear, she made sure her war paint, er, make-up, was flawless. Every detail needed to be perfect for this meeting.

  It was make or break time. Do or die.

  On the way to the twelfth floor, a floor reserved only for partners, she rehearsed her promotion ac
ceptance speech in her head. Kennedy ultimately decided sheer surprise and unadulterated gratitude was the best approach.

  Roberta sat at her large, posh glass desk, her head down in deep concentration. Kennedy tapped on the open door. “You wanted to see me ma’am?”

  The older woman wore a chic suit and a neutral expression as she lifted her head. “Miss Notyce, do come on in. Just finishing a quick email. And please, call me Roberta.”

  Kennedy took in her surroundings as she made her way to a seat in front of Roberta’s desk. The interior decorator must have gotten paid a fortune. Plush carpet, immaculate window treatments, a cozy couch, a fully-stocked gold bar cart. No expense had been spared furnishing this office.

  “Will do, ma’am. I mean, Roberta.” She could’ve kicked herself.f

  The older woman closed the top of her laptop with a perfectly manicured hand. “Now that that’s settled, let’s cut to the chase. You’ve shown tremendous potential over the past five years. To be honest, I’ve been impressed with you since we scooped you up after you graduated from Yale.”

  Kennedy sat straight up. “Thank you so much for the compliment Roberta. I’ve enjoyed my time at Briggs and Bancroft. I’ve learned a great deal here and I hope to continue out my career for a long time.”

  “You’ve earned more than a compliment, Kennedy. Especially after today.” Roberta winked at her.

  At least, Kennedy thought it was a wink. Could have been an eye-twitch. Hadn’t she heard that older people had eye-twitches? Was that ageist?

  Probably.

  If it was a wink, that was a good sign for the outcome of the meeting. Should she wink back? No, that’d be creepy.

  She felt her cheeks heat. She was losing it. She waited out Roberta in the hopes that she would continue on.

  Roberta leaned back into her chair, folding her hands in her lap. “The senior partners always have their eyes open for rising talent to groom up the ranks. In your time at the firm, you’ve brought in numerous valuable clients. More importantly, the clients you’ve brought in have been lucrative for the firm. The WitTech ruling was simply the icing on the cake.”