Breach of Contract (Kavanagh Family Romance Book 1)

by Elizabeth Miller

  “Columbia. You said you were already enrolled.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I never did. Not once. I will start next fall. With or without firm recommendation, I’ll be accepted. That’s confidence. The only thing I withheld is that I’d hoped to get a reference letter based on my performance. I wanted to prove myself before asking for it. That’s not a lie.”

  Jayce levels his burning gaze my way for too many heartbeats, his jaw working back and forth as if chewing on my response. He skims my face, his hand brushing over his chest like it aches. Good. I hope it does. I hope regret singes his heart and he feels a smidgen of remorse. Maybe he does. When he bites his lower lip I can’t tell if he’s tamping down a smile or if he’s plotting my murder.

  I straighten my back and angle my chin, ready for a fight. “While we’re at it, let me tell you what I don’t like. Waking up alone in a strange bed after being fucked unconscious three times throughout the night. Or wondering what I did wrong to deserve it. Feeling like shit, I’ve found is no fun either. And that’s what this”—I point to him and then me—“is supposed to be. I also don’t like coming to work to find my privacy invaded, my personal notes read and then used against me. But more than any of that, I don’t like working my ass off for a boss who won’t listen to me when I have something important to say.” I end on a long breath and wait.

  Seconds pass before he grinds his throat and opens his mouth only to be interrupted by the buzzing intercom.

  “Mrs. Blume and her counsel have arrived.” Lisa’s voice comes through loud and clear.

  Neither of us moves. No one talks. The silence is so deafening, I have to fill it with something. “Is there anything else you need, Mr. Kavanagh? If not, I have work to do.” Wrong move, I think, when his simmering attention narrows in on me.

  “Gather your files and join us in the conference room. Now.” His tone is crisp with displeasure. He presses the button on the intercom to respond. “Lisa, give us five minutes before showing Mrs. Blume and her attorney in, and then you may go. You’ve earned an early day.”

  He glances at me once more, a long moment of decision. I don’t know what the verdict is, but he nods and heads out. I quickly grab my folder and the investigative report from my desk and follow behind his still-perfect ass.

  I don’t spare a glance to Lisa, but I do catch Carla’s mouth falling open when we pass by. Dee hooks her thumb and pinky out, signaling me to call her as I frantically point in Mr. Kavanagh’s direction.

  Excitement blossoms in my stomach. He’s asked me to attend a preliminary settlement meeting for the most important case the firm has ever managed. Yes! Invisible fist pump and all that jazz.

  Keller catches us in the hall. He presses his shoulder to mine on the way with wide eyes that scream why are you here? I shrug and take the third seat from Mr. Kavanagh.

  “Ms. Walker.” My head whips around to find Jayce pointing to the chair to his right, the ridge of his jaw tight and his gaze unwavering. “I need you and your files here.”

  “Yes, sir,” I mutter, and change locations, aware of his close proximity thanks to a tingle skittering down my spine. By the time I settle, Marjorie Blume is escorted in, and after brief introductions we convene.

  Mr. Kavanagh is worth every dollar MoMo pays him. In less than ten minutes, he sets the stage with all the sordid details his investigator uncovered. She’d be foolish to move forward with this lawsuit. If she does, the rancid details of her past will come to light and she’ll be disgraced in front of her followers.

  “Extortion, that’s what this is,” Blume huffs before her lawyer holds up his hand.

  Mr. Kavanagh slowly moves a piece of paper over the conference room table for them to see. “No, Mrs. Blume, these are facts. The truth challenges your authenticity on the platforms in which you preach. That’s not my business, but Maurice Spears is. Continue with your motion to limit his freedom of speech and I have no choice but to bring forward all of the particulars of the case, including your past.”

  She lifts her nose and keeps her eyes trained on Mr. Kavanagh for an uncomfortable minute of silence. “I’ll release my own statement. Forgiveness is divine, and my congregation will show compassion. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve learned from them, and God has forgiven me, as he will forgive those who’ve sinned behind me.” Blume’s voice rises with each word. “Baring my soul will make me stronger and solidify my place behind the pulpit. You’re no further ahead today than yesterday.”

  I glance at Jayce and see the shift. His jaw clenches subtly. He was not expecting her response. Without a thought, I scramble through my papers. Not her background check. Not Tinker v Des Moines. Where is it? Where . . . here it is! I slide a document in front of Mr. Kavanagh and then lean over to his ear.

  “Blume is cheating. The numbers are off; the ministry financial statements compared to her own debt-to-income ratio—they’re all wrong. She has accounts in the Cayman Islands and Switzerland with large sums, but her U.S. balance sheets are low, and she paid cash for a Jaguar and has a six-thousand-square-foot beach house. That’s not possible with the salary she’s supplied on her W-2s, and her ministry is nonprofit. Proceeds should go back to the church and community but there are complaints from former staff members that donations go missing. She’s embezzling.”

  I pull away to find his hazel eyes squarely set on my face with a question I can only answer with a whispered, “Trust me.”

  I need him to do so more than I can express in the long moment of connection we share. I can do this. I am smart enough to sit at the table with a brilliant legal mind and provide meaningful evidence to support our cause.

  He nods. A simple dip of his chin brightens my world as he turns to face-off with Blume once more.

  “And this?” Jayce moves my summary of her finances next to the document outlining her sordid past. She glances at the new information and becomes rigid. Her gaze lands on mine as understanding sets her lips in a straight line.

  Warmth spreads along my outer thigh. The movement of cloth as it slips off, exposing my skin to cool air. I suck in a breath and tap my pen, ignoring the sensation on my clit and the real possibility I could orgasm from a simple touch on my leg. Firm fingers belonging to my boss trace a circular pattern over my tingling flesh. My heart rate spikes and I bite my lip to hold back a groan. All eyes are on Blume and the deepening tint painting her face the same color as her unnaturally red hair.

  “You can’t win,” Mr. Kavanagh says with his hand still causing my pulse to skyrocket. “End this now and no one will know your moral compass is broken. Move forward with this lawsuit, and I have no choice but to release our findings in court.”

  He clenches his fingers, digging into the soft meat of my upper thigh. I remember when it was his teeth. Holy fuck. I take notes, scribbling, transcribing verbatim every word she says in a heated back-and-forth exchange while Mr. Kavanagh’s thumb inches closer to my holy grail.

  I set my jaw in place, not moving an inch. Not even when Marjorie bolts from her chair saying, “I’ve heard enough.”

  From the corner of my eye, I watch Mr. Kavanagh stand, withdrawing his fingers from my leg only to shake her attorney’s hand.

  “You’ll hear from us in forty-eight hours. Gentlemen.” He nods. “Ms. Walker.” And then he’s gone.

  Mr. Kavanagh closes the file in front of him. “Take the rest of the day for yourself, Keller, and shut the door behind you. Ms. Walker and I have something to finish.”

  Does he sound pleased or pissed? Is it possible he’s both? I fear for my ass, not my job, but sweet Jesus, I’ll take the beating if he lets me come at the end.

  “Ah, yes, sir. I can stay if you need me?” Keller—always the nice guy. The intensity of his stare rests on the side of my face. Rather than look at him, I focus on the wood-grain pattern peeking out from beneath my papers while my pussy begs for attention underneath the table.

  “Now would be the time to leave, Mr. Keller,” Jayce clips out briskly.
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  “Right, sure.”

  I exhale a heavy breath when the door latches behind him. Another escapes when the lock clicks in place seconds later. Sound proof walls protect us from any curious stares or interested ears.

  Mr. Kavanagh comes to stand beside me, so close the tantalizing spice radiating from his body reaches me. So close his heat warms my skin, or maybe it’s his eyes that are on me. I follow his reflection in the window, almost as crisp as a mirror. Tall, broad, imposing, he slips his hand in his pant pocket and stares at my seated figure. “Hurting you was never my intention. I’m sorry.”

  “For Saturday or this morning?” I ask.

  “Both.”

  I wasn’t expecting the apology but I’m pleased with it nonetheless. “Forgiven,” I say, since he is. But I also need clarification to sort through my confusion and conclusively define exactly what we are. “And we’re just sex.”

  “Is that a statement or a question?”

  I shrug, because I don’t know. “It’s confirmation.”

  Three lines form between his brows. He thinks for a moment, watching me as if I’m the most complex woman he’s ever seen. A nearly imperceptible sigh escapes his lips before he nods. “I do expect the truth and I will give you the same. Notes in your desk are not discreet and you’re lucky I found them.”

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “Good girl. Then you wish to continue?”

  “Are you sleeping with Ash Crawford?”

  His eyes cut to mine in the window. They latch on as he responds with a firm declaration. “No.”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Not in the slightest.”

  He wouldn’t lie. Not now. Not when we’ve reaffirmed the need for honesty. Relief surges through me and I nod. “Then yes. Please,” I beg. “Continue.”

  The second the word is past my lips, he slips off his jacket before hanging it on the back of his chair. “Stand up, Ms. Walker.”

  Heart thumping, I do as he commands while he rolls his shirtsleeves to his elbows. Uncovering the taut edges of his forearms, he slides behind me. His chest presses to my back, warm breath tickling my ear. “Bend over and don’t say a word.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Something Big” 2:42

  Jayce

  “WHY ARE YOU smiling?” Drake’s hand lands on my shoulder just after I push out the door and into the evening air.

  “I didn’t realize a grin was against the law, and I scored 178 on my LSAT. Color me stupid.” I chuckle and flick my collar up to ward off the wind.

  “Did you just laugh? What the fuck? Now I know you’re sick or on drugs. Is it heroin, cocaine? You can talk to me, buddy. Really, I’m here for you. Just don’t overdose until you bequeath your portion of the firm to me. Can you do that? Oh, Jesus.” He pulls on his hair and looks to the dark sky as if it’s a direct line to the big guy.

  I laugh as we jog down the stairs to catch the train, squeezing into an already full car. “I’m not on anything.”

  “Okay, sure. Seriously, though. What’s gotten into you lately? You seem . . . happy.” He says the last word like he ate a can of sardines.

  Moving the legal assistant’s location was the best and worst decision I’ve ever made. Pulling the trigger on the renovation was easy after seeing the deplorable state the back office was in, but Maisie’s new desk has been nothing short of distracting. A week after lighting her ass on fire in the conference room, she’s more under my skin than ever. And it’s not because my scalp still aches from her grip yesterday. The woman knows what she wants and maneuvered me there with her filthy mouth and her fingers in my hair. I fucked her with my tongue and ate her through three orgasms. I didn’t come once, and it was the most gratifying sexual experience of my life.

  “And so what if I am? I’m in a good place.”

  “Okay? Details please.”

  “Have I never been in a good place before?”

  “Honestly, not since the summer before law school. Now I’d say you’re a plodder.”

  “A plodder?” I ask, exasperated and slightly put off. I’ve been called a lot of things, but this? What the hell?

  “As in, a workhorse. You don’t smile. You sure as hell don’t laugh. You get shit done. So, details.” He motions with his hand for me to get a move on and I don’t know what to say.

  I can’t tell him what’s on my mind. Maisie.

  Or that I took his advice and put her under contract.

  Or that I didn’t tell her about Carla and the reference letter. I should have. I had the perfect opportunity to confess. But I let it slip by because I’m weak, completely afraid of what the truth will do to her. Us. Her application to Columbia.

  It guts me. All of it. I shrug and say anything to distract myself from my cowardice. “Work. It’s all about work.”

  His eyes narrow as if he senses my lie. “What about it? Give me details.”

  “It’s Maisie specifically.”

  I don’t like his rising brow, so I stumble into clarification. “She’s done an exceptional job with Blume’s case. Prior to the meeting, Maisie took the investigative report from my desk and pieced together the money issues. Even after she disagreed with the direction I was headed.”

  “Maisie took the report. From your desk. Without permission?” Now he’s incredulous.

  “For validation.” I repeat Maisie’s long-ago argument to release the information to the media. But also how she found the embezzlement. “Today we signed a nondisclosure agreement to keep Blume’s finances under wraps and she dropped the lawsuit.”

  Drake studies me as we grab onto the overhead straps, and the train kicks into gear. “I don’t get it. You’ve won lawsuits before, and that case didn’t rise to the high-profile status it could have. It didn’t go to trial, which would have been the kick in the pants we needed to really set the firm apart from the rest, so there’s more going on. I want to know about the more. Tell me about the more.”

  “Are you dating Dee?”

  “Sort of. It’s complicated. Yes. But don’t change the subject.”

  “I just realized I haven’t asked about you in a while.”

  He closes his eyes and then fists my jacket. “I swear to God, if you’re high, I will never forgive you. I’ll spit on your grave, asshole.”

  “I’m not high. I’m interested. Call it re-engaging in life. All things outside of the firm—Kavanagh’s, my dad and family. I’ve neglected you and I’m sorry.”

  He gapes at me, then his eyes narrow in suspicion. “Does this change have anything to do with a woman? Holy shit, it does. Is it Ash? Are you with Ash? You’ve spent a hell of a lot of time with her lately. Holy fuck, it is.”

  “Calm down.” I grip his shoulder and throw him a bone. “It’s not Ash. It’s sex. Good sex, really good sex, but that’s all it is.” Shame hits me in the chest. That’s a total and complete lie, even if it’s what Maisie wants. There is nothing simple about us. We were complicated the moment I set eyes on her. Every touch is a promise, each kiss a revision to the contract.

  Beyond a shadow of doubt, she is something special. I’ve smiled more in the last month than I have in years. All thanks to a feisty brunette with the sexiest ass in New York. Just this morning I stood captivated by the luscious peach. She hip-checked the Xerox machine until it spat out whatever it had eaten, saving me a maintenance fee. You could say that ass is functional and spankable. Bonus for me.

  “Are you still sparring at the gym?” I ask.

  “Yeah, tomorrow at nine a.m.”

  “It’s Thanksgiving.”

  “They’re boxers. They have to make weight so they don’t eat anything but the turkey.”

  “Right. Mind if I tag along before heading out to Hamilton? I need a new routine.”

  He leans his head on his outstretched arm. “Who is this woman?”

  “None of your business.” The train stops. I brace against the impact and turn toward the door. “See you in the morning. Nine sharp.�
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  “Wait. Why are you getting off here?” His question follows me out. My grin triples in size as I take the stairs two at a time until I step onto the streets of SoHo.

  MAISIE’S BUILDING REALLY is a piece of shit. Crumbling brick and flecking paint can’t be missed on the six-story rise. The lock on her lobby door is busted and I walk right in. No doorman awaits my entrance. The lack of security is an invitation for bad news and I aim to talk with Maisie about it. Just as I pull up to 6B, my phone buzzes in my pocket with a text.

  M: Change of plans. Call me before you come over.

  J: Too late. Open your door.

  A second later, a winded but beautiful peach opens to find me in the hall. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?” I step in and grab her hips, pulling her in to my hardening cock. She groans. Lacing her hands through my hair she tugs, bringing my open mouth to hers. Our tongues meet a moment before our lips and we’re instantly deep, tangled in passion and limbs. My hands find her ass. I forget to be gentle as I clench and squeeze, holding her in place while I grind my stiff dick into her stomach.

  As I reach for the hem of her sweater, she bats my hand away and steps back, shaking her head. “We can’t,” she pants.

  I nod. “We can.” I kick the door closed with my foot and then I’m on her, my mouth latched to hers where it belongs.

  “No,” she murmurs, pushing against my shoulders. “My friends.”

  “Can wait.” Her long neck is bare and I take advantage, dragging my tongue and teeth down the column to the curve where it meets her shoulder.

  She moans, and my cock twitches painfully against the seam of my pants. “It’s opening night. Wardrobe malfunction.”

  “Good for them.” My response is mumbled with my face buried in her tits.

  Maisie grabs my hair, tugging. “I have to go.”

  The conviction in her voice stops my onslaught, and I lift my head to find her dilated pupils. She’s as hot for me as I am for her. I just need to come up with a good argument. “But your tits. And your ass. Your lips. And your ass. Peach.” Stupid.