So Much Trouble: Bad Boy Forbidden Love Romance Collection (So Wrong It's Right Book 4)

by Jamie Knight

  I never hit the women I slept with. I didn’t have to, but I also didn’t want to. I would be gentle with the vanilla types, and rougher with the ones who were into that. In every case, their utter physical submission to me was my end goal.

  A lot of them told me that they liked it; the surprise in their tone and on their faces was truly priceless, especially if it was clear that they were the sort to blush at the very mention of underwear. Yes, there were virgins – and they remained so unless they specifically told me otherwise; it was neither a particular turn-on nor a deal-breaker for me. I took things as they came and made the best of it; those were the words I did my best to live by.

  The traffic started to move at a slow crawl, like a beast waking up from a long hibernation, sleep-atrophied muscles refusing to fully cooperate. I could definitely relate.

  Organized chaos, while an oxymoron, was the best way to describe the offices of Faust and Moore. The cold glass and steel exterior hid the madness that swirled behind it. The pandemonium was really more of a feature than a glitch, the system being set up so that the lawyer with the fewest number of wins at the end of each fiscal year was shown the door with a handshake and a kick in the ass.

  One of the advantages to being a corporate lawyer was that I never ran out of clients, and the ones I brought in tended to have deep pockets. It more than made up for my somewhat strict criteria, provisos which excluded me from cases involving tobacco, alcohol, or chemical companies. I like money as much as anyone else, but I’m not going to bat for lung cancer and poison wells to get it.

  My no-harm policy extended well outside the bedroom. Combined with my interest in the arts, the majority of my cases were in the intellectual property domain, dealing mostly with flagrant, for-profit violations of licensed work. Had I been practicing at the time, I would have been on the labels’ side in the Napster case. I didn’t like what some bands, were doing, going after individual fans, but it was the greater principle of the thing. I was very into principles, at the time.

  The online landscape had changed a lot since those comparatively innocent days. I was having to explain the concept of “fair use” to potential clients on a near daily basis; fees from phone calls accounted for roughly a quarter of my overall income.

  Weaving my way though the human traffic, every bit as dangerous as the vehicular kind, I made it to my office. It was the big one in the corner, with the panoramic view of downtown and an attendant secretary who didn’t hate my guts.

  “There is a meeting in ten minutes, sir.”

  “That was quick,” I said, still in the process of hanging up my coat.

  “Wow,” Sandra said from behind the desk, admiring my suit.

  Or possibly fantasizing about what’s under it.

  To be fair, most people had a similar reaction, juggling the air of brains I give off with the brawn they can see. I liked sports as a kid, mostly rugby sevens and fencing, but I was also a massive nerd. I belied nearly everyone’s expectations by not only going to law school but getting the second highest grade point average in the entire school before departing.

  Opposing attorneys had taken to calling me “The Magician,” because they never knew what I was going to pull out of my hat. The fact that I had also slept with most of their assistants and mistresses, (who were often one and the same), had not greatly improved their attitudes toward me.

  “Where is the meeting?” I asked.

  “Room five,” Sandra said, coming back to reality.

  I was still in a fairly good mood. Even an early morning meeting was not enough to dampen my spirits much. I had just closed a huge case, bringing in a seven-figure sum for the firm in less than a month, and there was talk of partnership.

  At 34, I would be one of the youngest legal partners ever, if it happened. I tried to imagine the new sign outside the building: Faust, Moore, & LeVay. Had a nice sort of ring to it.

  Of course, all the lawyers would have to get new business cards, and the stationary would have to be changed. They wouldn’t like that much, even if they did like me. I was confident most would forgive me, though, considering the bonuses I was planning to give everyone, but especially the assistants and the I.T. department.

  It was a fact missed by most people, but especially those who have attained a particular position of power, that, in the computer age, it was the assistants, who knew how to use computers, and the techs, who kept them running, who were the most powerful people in any company. Without them, there wouldn’t be a company. As a wise man once said, “There is nothing more dangerous than a dedicated nerd with a computer.” I wanted to keep them on my side.

  Everyone was already seated before I arrived. There were a few dirty looks, but most didn’t bother, knowing me well enough to realize just how few fucks would be given. I took my usual chair between Hedfield and McKoy, mostly to keep them from punching each other’s lights out, which had nearly happened once, at an infamous and memorable Christmas party.

  “I have heard from city hall,” started Edward Moore, the far more talkative of the two senior partners, “that there will be a city-wide lockdown effective at noon tomorrow. In light of this development, we have decided to try and keep working in this troubling time. The techs have set up a private network for meetings and all of our current cases should easily be able to be prepared online. Every court date scheduled for after the lockdown is scheduled to be lifted.”

  “We have to work alone?” Hedfield asked.

  “Yeah, I don’t think I could work without my assistants. Or at least one assistant,” McKoy said.

  “That has been accounted for,” Moore said, placing a snazzy trilby onto the dark wood conference table.

  “Drawing lots? Seriously?” Jim Alexander said.

  “Just be happy we’re not on a boat,” I said, making Jim shudder.

  “In this hat are the names of every assistant currently employed at this firm. You will each pick one name, and that person will go into lockdown with you. Hotel suites have been set up for the lockdown period. Think of it as a working holiday.”

  There was dissent among the troops, each seemingly keen to keep the assistant that they knew best, but Moore’s word was law, and we all went along. If any among our number should have objected, it was me; I liked to work alone, much to Sandra’s delight. Her job thus far had primarily consisted of giving me messages, patching through phone calls, and spending the rest of the time reading.

  Still, the power of Moore compelled, and I reached into the hat with the rest, preparing to meet my destiny. Destiny’s name was Emma Charles. I searched my memory, but could not recollect having met an Emma Charles. It was possible that she was one of the new hires, brought in after the great purge of the summer, when Moore had decided that the firm needed some new blood. Even so, Sandra should have told me about her already.

  “Lucky dog!” McKoy said, reading my paper.

  “Who’d he get?’ Hedfield asked.

  “Emma.”

  “No way!”

  “Way.” McKoy had a shit-eating grin.

  “Lucky bastard!”

  “Why is that, William?” I asked.

  “You’ll see,” he said, with a sly wink that only made me more curious.

  Chapter Two - Damien

  The Hotel Seventy was a highly exclusive but popular establishment on the Upper West Side. An unholy alliance between minimalist and Romantic styles, it really was a sight to behold. Everything was some shade of white, including the eggshell-white exterior.

  The rooms, despite being described as luxurious, were also pretty small, space being at something of a premium in the city in general, let alone in that particular area. With a small parcel going for upwards of $150 million, owners endeavoured to make the best of their investment.

  What they lacked in size, however, they made up for in style. Each room was individually decorated in a tastefully minimalist style, combining bare floors and walls with a few carefully selected furniture pieces that were exquisite
in their own right. My room even boasted an original Tiffany lamp on the bedside table. It was the only artificial light source in the room, aside from the stylishly efficient line of track lighting.

  Easing up to the curb, I handed the valet my keys, nearly weeping as I did. I loved my car, and I was suddenly flooded with paranoid dread that I would never see it again. Taking a breath to calm myself, I stiffened up my back and marched through the sliding glass doors to meet my destiny.

  The clerks were wearing masks and bright blue rubber gloves. I couldn’t really blame them for their caution, even if I wasn’t quite ready to join them yet. I washed my hands with near obsessive frequency, trying to avoid people as much as possible. It put a bit of a damper on my love life, but you had to choose your priorities.

  “There you are, sir,” the clerk said as she handed me my room key card, her eyes looking very polite.

  “Thank you.”

  It wasn’t my first time in a silent elevator, but the sensation hadn’t stopped being eerie. I knew that they had all the same mechanics as their noisy cousins, particularly in the safety department, but it was difficult enough to remember that when I could actually hear the mechanisms moving. In an odd way, I found the noise of elevators to be comforting; it was something my father referred to as ‘uncommon comfort.’

  The elevator dinged, the evil geniuses who took away the sound leaving me that much, at least, and the doors slid open. The hallway smelled cool and fresh, very similar to how it felt. I wouldn’t have expected anything less.

  Moving along the smooth, clean floor at good clip, looking forward to my arrival as much as I dreaded it, the key card was in the slot in a flash, and I was in the welcoming embrace of my new temporary home. I resisted the urge to bounce on the bed.

  Few things brought about my inner child like walking into a hotel room, particularly one I was going to be in for a while. It was a christening of sorts, like breaking a bottle of champagne on the back of a new yacht… which must do weird things to the local fish population, but was part of the culture none the less.

  I wondered if Emma was in her room, or if, indeed, she had arrived at all. It was the first time I had been early for something in a while. I was likely just trying to get it over with as soon as possible. Time didn’t really work like that, but perception could count for a lot, and the way I figured it, the sooner it began, the sooner it would end.

  Finding myself in a sort of fugue state, with nothing to do and anything I started likely to be interrupted by Emma’s arrival, I did something I had not done in nearly a decade: I turned on the TV. I was very quickly reminded of why I had stopped in the first place.

  Switching over to one of the more boring news channels, which were increasingly difficult to find, with rhetoric and screaming matches being the order of the day, I sat down in a nearby chair, closed my eyes, and let my mind rest, starting on a well-deserved mental lull.

  The noise became a blur of numbers, making this strange pandemic situation feel even more distant.

  I didn’t dream. Not really. Technically, dreaming only happens during sleep, and my other senses were still well aware, so that hadn’t happened.

  I wasn’t going crazy. No matter the size of the room, or how long I had to stay in there, I wasn’t going to go crazy. I wouldn’t allow it. It was one of the main things that had turned me off of TV in the first place.

  The knocking was sudden as a prairie wind. For the longest time, I was sure that it was in my head. Something trying to tell me something important. I just had to open up the door and let them in.

  “Hello? Mr. LeVay?”

  My eyes snapped open as the knocks came again. Getting out of the diabolically comfortable chair, remote still in my hand, I traveled, over the floor and past the bathroom, on a quest to answer the call. I opened the door.

  “Hi,” she said, her voice a lot softer than when she had first called.

  The stunning vision before me couldn’t be real. Face of Aphrodite. Curves of Mother Hera. Dark hair in a braid reaching down to her luscious ass. Crystalline eyes full of love and compassion, if not also a fair bit of confusion.

  “Emma?” I asked.

  “Yes, sir. I am here to assist you. I mean, to be your assistant. My room is next door, but I figured I would come over and, y’know, introduce myself.”

  “Please, come in,” I said, stepping out of the way and sweeping my arm in welcome. “Would you like something to drink, or maybe a snack? The minibar is fully stocked.”

  “Oh, well. I don’t usually go near those things. Isn’t it, like, five dollars per pistachio?”

  “Not really, but close,” I admitted with a laugh, “But it’s not a problem; knock yourself out.”

  Letting out a sound of joy, Emma dashed to the minibar, her bare feet moving easily on the floor. Had she been wearing heels, I might have worried. Down on her knees so she could open the door, her ass was even more visible; her skirt, which was already quite short for business wear, stretched tightly over the curvy flesh.

  An old and familiar urge bubbled up in me. I wanted so much to pull up her skirt, yank aside her panties, and devour her until she screamed with pleasure. However, realizing this would probably affect our working relationship, I restrained myself.

  I knew I couldn’t touch her. At least, not in the way I wanted. It was going to be difficult, but I would prevail.

  As she emerged, her arms full of goodies, I could see her goodies in profile, pressing up against the inside of her blouse, yearning to break free.

  “Sorry. I guess I went kinda nuts, huh?” Emma said, putting the bounty on the small dining table.

  “Not at all,” I said, looking her over again, not able to get enough.

  One thing that struck me was how young she looked. I knew Faust & Moore had a policy against hiring anyone under 25, so she couldn’t be more than nine years younger than me, but her age was hard to place; the fullness of her figure clashed somewhat with the innocence in her eyes and demeanour. I wondered if she was a virgin.

  “Wanna sit down?” she asked with a nervous giggle.

  “Certainly,” I said, pulling out the chair across from her.

  “Isn’t that better?”

  “Quite a bit, actually. So, tell me a bit about yourself.”

  “Well, I just moved to the city a couple of months ago. Relocated for the job.”

  “Where are you from originally?”

  “… No, I can’t say,” Emma said, trying to wave off the idea.

  “Why not?”

  “You’ll laugh at me.”

  “Why would I laugh?” I asked, trying to think of where it could be.

  “… I’m from Wyoming. There, I said it. Come on, I’m ready. Bring on the ‘big empty land’ jokes. I’ve heard ‘em all, I think. And yes, I did have a cow for a pet. Adorable little calf. Grew up, of course. Never ate her. Been a vegetarian since.”

  “That’s not funny at all,” I said.

  “It isn’t?” Emma asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

  “No. I think it’s sweet. A bit unusual, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Well, good, ‘cause I got that in spades,” Emma said. “Unusualness, I mean. And maybe some sweetness.”

  Oh, I’m sure you do, I thought to myself, And I’d love to take a taste.

  “So, you started at the firm a couple months ago? Did they hire you right out of college?”

  “Yeah, actually. I was really surprised. I only really sent in my resume ‘cause my best friend dared me to. I was pretty sure she was making fun of me, but I thought it was pretty funny too, and I figured, what the heck?”

  “‘What the heck?’” I repeated.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “You actually use ‘heck?’”

  “Oh, um, yeah. My folks were pretty hard on cussin’. ‘Specially with me. Got my bottom burned a fair few times because of it. Mama would make me go out and find a switch, and then Daddy would put me over his la
p. Only took a few times before I stopped all together.”

  “Well, they’re not here now. You can speak freely,” I said, seething with anger on the inside. I might have been interested in control, but only with people who gave it up freely. I was actually a big believer in personal autonomy as a general principle; you should only affect yourself and those who freely choose to engage with you. To use violence to impose your will on someone was horrific; it was the closet thing to a sin in my personal beliefs.

  “Really?”

  “Sure.”

  “Cool! I’m really looking forward to assisting you, and I’m more than ready and willing to do anything you need. Anything!”

  I couldn’t be sure, but the way she said it, it almost seemed like there was a double meaning to her words. I doubted that she knew all of what ‘anything’ would entail, when it came to the sexual realm, but it was still cute, and pretty damn arousing, for her to offer. Even though my logical mind knew that it could never really be, the potential was fun to think about.

  “I-I should go get my stuff. My work stuff. Stuff for work. In here, in this place of work,” Emma babbled, adorably flustered.

  Going back to her room through the adjoining door, I didn’t even look at her ass as she left, despite the fact that I desperately wanted to. It was the first step in what was sure to be a long road, but I was sure I could handle it. If only my cock agreed with my brain.

  My pants were suddenly feeling as though they were several sizes too small, despite the measurements being meticulous. I knew she would be coming back, but the issue had to be dealt with before then, or we were never going to be able to get any work done.

  Sitting on the toilet, which I swear actually had a pearl seat, I carefully unzipped my pants, there being a lot more of me than there had been when I first put them on, and hauled out my cock. The cool air in the bathroom felt lovely on the glistening head. Letting out a deep sigh, I wrapped my hand gently around the massive shaft and began to stroke.

  My mind was blank at first. I forced it to be so, lest I wander into some forbidden territory. It was too dangerous to even fantasize about Emma. The physical fact of her presence was troublesome enough.