Fuck. I sit forward and pull myself closer to my desk. The last thing I need is for Cooper to notice the semi I’m sporting in my suit pants. If nothing else, I should seek out the company of a woman just to get Addison out of my mind. I need to replace her with newer memories. The only reason I’m thinking about her so much is because it’s the only sex I’ve had in months. Plain and simple.
“So how do you want to handle the new hires?” I ask, changing the subject. “Is there one you feel particularly attached to, or what?”
“I emailed you their CVs. I take it you didn’t look them over.”
“No, sorry. I was swamped with the Waterford divorce case last week. I trust you. Whatever you think will work best is fine with me.”
“Well, the one is the son of my uncle’s best friend, so he asked me to take him under my wing. But I did my due diligence on the kid, and I wouldn’t have hired him if I didn’t think he had the chops to cut it. He graduated at the top of his class two years ago and co-counseled on some decent cases over at Giglante Law Group.”
“Sounds good,” I say with a nod. “Then I’ll take the other one. What’s his background?”
“Her.”
I arch a brow in my friend’s direction, wondering if he didn’t let his dick weigh in on the decision to hire her instead of going solely on her merits as an attorney. “You’re aware you can’t fuck an employee, right?”
“Don’t worry, she’s not my type,” he says with a wink. That meant she wasn’t dark-skinned and exotic-looking. For as much as it seemed like Coop fucked anything in a skirt, he had pretty particular tastes. “But she might be yours, so you’d better watch yourself.”
I roll my eyes at his teasing tone. “Somehow, I doubt that.” Not many women are my type, and female attorneys in the bigger Chicago practices tend to be uptight and rigid to overcompensate for having vaginas in firms that are still very much “boys clubs.” Getting us back on track, I repeat my earlier question. “What’s her background, then?”
“Top of her class at Loyala. She’s young—only out of school for a year—but hungry, and I suspect a bit of a workaholic. But that also might be because she’s coming from Schmeel & Associates, and though she didn’t come right out and say it, I think we can both guess how she was treated there.”
Like shit. Richard “Dick” Schmeel was a male chauvinist prick who hired other male chauvinist pricks. Then, to avoid any EOE complaints, they hire female interns and treat them like grunt workers. I’ll have to retrain any bad habits they instilled in her over the last year, which could be a pain, but if Coop chose her over the other dozen or so candidates, she’ll be worth the extra effort and guidance she might require initially.
“Not a problem,” I say. “We’ll get her on the right track.”
“Here we go, Mr. Reeves.” Maggie rushes in with my breakfast sandwich and a stern order to eat the whole thing before I join Coop and the new hires who are waiting in his conference room already. I mutter a “yes, ma’am,” and eat it quickly while checking the latest stats for the Chicago Blackhawks on my phone, then I wash it down with the cup of black coffee Maggie had thoughtfully brought me as well.
Feeling mildly better with food in my stomach and caffeine in my system, I stand and go through the motions of tugging my shirt cuffs down and double-checking that my tie is tight to my collar and lying smooth before buttoning my suit jacket. Then I grab my leather portfolio and a pen and head out.
As I approach the open door of the conference room, I can hear Coop going through the basics of the office. Though they’re facing away from the entrance, I register a lean, dark-haired man relaxed in his chair and a blond woman with a graceful neck showcased by her tight French twist and rigid posture. I nearly smirk to myself for nailing her disposition. Hopefully she’ll learn to relax over time. I have no interest in working with anyone who has a pole shoved up their ass twenty-four seven.
When I cross the threshold, Coop interrupts himself. “There he is.” All three of them get to their feet as I set my coffee and pad down. “I’d like to introduce you both to the other half of Reeves & Cooper.”
That’s when I hear it. The softest gasp followed by the barest whisper of my name. And instantly every part of my body tenses in response. I lift my gaze and meet the stunning aquamarine eyes I’ve been seeing every night when my lids finally drift closed, and I curse my fucking luck.
Coop was right. My new junior attorney was definitely my type, and her disposition wasn’t the only thing about her I’ve nailed. I have to focus on drawing even breaths as I take in the way her navy blue pencil skirt hugs her hips and her white blouse stretches taut over her chest, which is mostly hidden by her short matching jacket. Logically, I know her attire is professional, but my libido might as well be staring at her in a lace teddy. If I see her as mostly naked, surely every other man sees the same thing, and that has my hands itching to administer black eyes to anyone owning a dick within a fifty-yard radius.
If my partner caught Addison’s reaction, he isn’t letting it show, but that doesn’t mean anything. Cooper is a shrewd observer, so I’m fully expecting an interrogation later. For now, I’m thankful he carries on as though nothing’s happened.
“Roman, this is Martin Ramirez and—”
“Addison Paige.” Her eyes widen in surprise, but there’s no use denying we’re familiar with each other. What would be useful is knowing how to work closely with the only woman I can’t have, when I suspect I’ve developed an addiction for her taste…a taste that’s still with me all these weeks later.
Chapter Seven
Addison
Oh my God, this can’t be happening. I must have slipped in the shower and now I’m having coma nightmares brought on by my rare case of nerves about starting my new job. Because there’s no way that of the three offers I had, I managed to accept the one that will make the man I fucked in an alley my boss.
His appearance is a complete one-eighty from the night I met him. No visible piercings, eyeliner, or five o’clock shadow dusting his square jaw. His jet-black hair is styled conservatively and the colorful artwork adorning his skin is hidden by a navy suit that looks custom tailored to mold to every line of his muscular frame and complement his piercing pale blue eyes. Eyes that I thought had looked familiar in the bio picture on the firm’s website, but dismissed the idea because the name under the picture said William R. Reeves. And did I mention how different he looks?
Roman leans past me to shake Martin’s hand, and I get a whiff of his cologne, dark and spicy, and it triggers flashes of the night he took me in the shadows, against a brick wall, in the company of strangers.
“Ms. Paige?”
I blink the images away and realize Roman is staring at me expectantly with his arm extended to me. Cursing my fair skin as a blush of heat creeps up my face, I firmly grasp his hand. Electricity shoots through my palm, up to my shoulder, and finds its way to my nipples. I try to release him, but he holds my hand a beat longer than necessary, sending the message that as my boss, he’ll be the one calling the shots here.
Just like he did in the alley.
For the last two months, Roman has played a starring role in every bean-flicking session I’ve had. After we finally separated and put ourselves back together that night, I managed to affect my devil-may-care-but-Addison-doesn’t attitude and strolled back into the club like a woman on the hunt for contestant number two, even though the last thing I wanted was to have anything to do with anyone other than Ruthless. Sex with him had been so surreal, so not-possible-in-my-universe, and yet, at the time, he’d made it seem as natural as breathing. Once the heat of the moment passed and the weight of what we’d done sank in, it’d shaken my insides pretty damn good. And the only recourse for when I’m unsure of myself is to make sure not a single soul in my aforementioned universe suspects it. Hence, why I made sure to flirt and rub up against anything with a penis until I Ubered it home later that night.
As soon as Roman releas
es my hand, I hastily button my jacket to cover my wayward nipples, then take my seat at the large conference table. The others follow suit, and I take a discreet, steadying breath. Roman sits at the head, with me to his left. Martin is next to me, and John is directly across from me to the right of Roman.
“So nice to see you again, Addison.” Roman’s voice is deep and smooth as silk. There isn’t a hint of suggestive undertone, and yet I can’t help but think his plain words are code for, “I remember what it feels like to be inside you.”
“Yes, it is.” I try to pull my mouth into the semblance of a genuine smile, but I feel how tight it is. From the corner of my eye, I can see Martin frown as he studies me and Roman, and the remembered lust dissipates to make way for irritation. Goddamn it. Roman should have pretended he didn’t know me. Now Martin is probably jumping to the conclusion that I got on my knees to get this job, or at the very least got it because of some connection I have with one of the partners. Nothing like losing all credibility the first day of my new finally-make-a-name-for-myself job.
“How is it you two know each other?” John asks.
This is my chance to salvage the story. Unfortunately, we end up speaking at the same time. “We met in court,” I say.
He says, “We have mutual friends.”
Shit. I clear my throat. “Yes, we met in court and then discovered we have mutual friends. Isn’t that right, Mr. Reeves?” Mental note: give Janey hell for not giving me more information—like a last name, a correct first name, and occupation—of the man I decided to go all crazy over.
Roman offers me a small grin and nods once. “That’s correct, Ms. Paige. It’s a small world.”
Somehow I manage to keep the strain out of my voice when I return his smile and say, “Sometimes a little too small.”
He narrows his eyes almost imperceptibly, and if I cared, I’d be wondering what he’s thinking, but since I don’t, I’m not. Thankfully, John ushers us past The Roman and Addison Show and picks up where he left off earlier. For the next half hour, Martin and I learn about our roles within the company and get briefed on a few of the cases we’ll be helping with over the coming weeks. This is also when I learn that although “we’re a team” and “we’ll always support each other whenever needed,” I will mainly be working for Roman. Because that’s par for the fucking course right now. Next they’ll say anyone who doesn’t have their last name in the LLC has to work in the nude.
The meeting finally adjourns, and I follow Roman out of the conference room, through the break room, and into his office at the end of the hall.
I keep my head held high as I walk by him to stand in front of the large mahogany desk. I jump at the sound of the door shutting behind me.
“Well, isn’t this interesting.” He chuckles, not an ounce of humor dusting the dark tone, and crosses behind the desk to sit in his swanky leather chair. Leaning back, he studies me for what seems like an eternity, acting every bit the predator to my prey. There’s nothing I can do in this situation to change my role, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to fall over and expose my soft underbelly.
“The website says your name is William,” I say by way of explaining my part in why I’m here. Because obviously, if I’d known he was one of the partners, I wouldn’t have accepted.
A small grin slips onto his handsome, clean-shaven face. “William is my first name, after my father, but I’ve always gone by my middle name, Roman.”
“Ah.” I nod as though this tidbit of knowledge is the key to all of life’s conundrums. “That would’ve been good to know.”
Gesturing to one of the chairs, he says, “Please, Addison, have a seat.” My motions are stiff, but I do as he asks, placing my purse and briefcase on the floor next to me. Once my hands are folded in my lap and I meet his steady gaze, he continues. “Can I have Maggie get you anything? Something to drink, perhaps?”
“No, thank you,” I reply coolly. “But maybe you can tell me what I’m doing here.”
He arches a thick, black brow. “You interviewed for the job and accepted our offer of employment, did you not?”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. If you offered me this position because I’m friends with Jane, then I respectfully tender my resignation.”
“There’s no need for that. I can assure you, this has nothing to do with friendship of any kind.”
Nothing to do with friendship. I almost snort, but the ladylike manners ingrained in me thanks to my mother hold true.
I should have known from the minute I realized it was Roman. I wasn’t chosen for my test scores or my brains or what I can offer to a senior attorney of this firm. I was chosen for what I can offer to the thing in the senior attorney’s pants. “So you thought it’d be fun to have a piece of ass around the office? Thanks, but no thanks.” Grabbing my things, I get to my feet and start to cross the room, already fabricating my mental Roman voodoo doll.
“Stop.”
His commanding tone freezes me in the center of the room. I tell myself to move, to keep walking. That freedom is only another dozen feet away. But somehow Roman has intercepted my brain’s message to flee and replaced it with one of his own. One that tells my body to hold still, to pool heat low in my belly and make my pulse race. And it’s unfair as hell.
Roman walks around to stand in front of me, feet braced apart, hands in his pockets. His gaze levels me with its intensity, but I have no idea how to read him here. In the club, it was different. I may not have been in a power position then, either, but at least I was on equal footing as one half of the single-and-horny equation. Now I have zero leverage—and I hate it.
“I should let you walk out that door, if for no other reason than to make my life easier,” he says, and I can’t help but feel a slight sting. “But I want to be clear about the situation, and then, if you still want to walk, that’ll be your decision.”
Raising my chin, I ask, “And what is it, exactly, that I should be clear on?”
“I had nothing to do with the hiring process. I never even saw the names of the applicants. John took care of everything, from putting out the ad to choosing interviewees to formally making offers. I was just as shocked to see you in that conference room as you were to see me. I just hid it better.”
“Oh…” I’m shocked for the second time in as many hours, and the vehemence coursing through me a moment ago quickly fades on a resigned sigh. “I wish you’d also hidden the fact that we know each other. It doesn’t matter what we say, Martin will believe I got this job for reasons other than merit alone. So will anyone else who finds out.”
“If Ramirez says anything of the kind, feel free to mention you’re aware his father is BFFs with John’s uncle. Not that he was hired for any other reason than he deserves the job, same as you. And as for anyone else, you’ll just have to prove them wrong. You’re not afraid of a little challenge, are you, Addison?”
“Not at all,” I say, raising a single brow. “I’d think of all people, you’d know that.”
“Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll have Maggie show you to your office and bring you the files you need to familiarize yourself with my cases.”
“One more thing. Don’t you think it’d be better if I work with John, all things considered?”
A frustrated exhale pushes from his lungs, and I’m starting to think that constantly bringing up The Night is grating on his nerves. “No, Ms. Paige, I don’t. If you’re concerned that I’ll make advances on your person, I can assure you that won’t happen. For one, I don’t make a habit of fucking my employees, and two, if I’d wanted to get you in my bed, I would have contacted you by now.”
Ouch! Grated nerves or not, that was uncalled for, and now my inner bitch was at full attention. Don’t slap your boss, Addie. Do not slap your boss! “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that, Mr. Reeves. Almost as glad as I was relieved when you never contacted me. It’s always so awkward.”
“Are you saying that if I’d called, you would have turne
d me down?” It isn’t a true question, but rather a statement of doubt, colored by his irrational (okay, maybe a little rational) arrogance.
“Let me put it this way,” I say, injecting my tone with false sensitivity. “My mother always taught me that I should try everything once, and then if I don’t like something…” I let the obvious implication hang in the air between us and offer a shrug by way of apology. “I’m sure you have plenty of things to catch up on this morning, so I’ll leave you to it and ask Maggie to help me get settled. Let me know when you want me.”
Yes, I meant that as a double entendre, and no, I don’t wait for him to respond before I brush past him and breeze out of his office, making sure to swing my ass all the way down the hall.
Chapter Eight
Roman
“Good morning, Maggie.”
“Good morning, Mr. Reeves.”
Maggie goes through our daily routine of handing me any messages and files I might need for the day, then heads back behind her desk while I make my way toward my office. Before I disappear into the hallway, I remember something and call back over my shoulder. “Oh, Maggie, when Ms. Paige gets in, can you ask her to see me right away? I need to talk to her before we head over to the courthouse.”
“She’s already here, sir.”
That stops me. I turn back, noting the time on my watch and wondering if I’ve somehow come in an hour late. “What time did she get in?”
“Oh, well before me. She usually is, though.”
I’m not happy to hear this. She also works late more often than not, staying until I kick her out when I leave around eight. Striding down the hall, I poke my head into Addison’s office. Her head is bent low, pen resting on the pillow of her bottom lip as she studies the file in front of her. As always, I ignore the gut-punch I feel every time I see her.
“Addison.” She lifts those blue-green eyes to me then smiles wide, nearly slaying me in the process. Hold firm, asshole. “Can I see you in my office, please?”