Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
It was good that he managed to convince such a brilliant woman to love him, or his life would be much harder than necessary.
“I agree,” I said, turning my focus back to Luc. “Let’s not give her anything to meddle in. My father has security on her at all times anyway. Besides, who is going to retaliate by kidnapping someone’s mother-in-law? That sounds more like a favor, even if it wasn’t Mary Quinn Astrid.”
Luc and Marksen both laughed at my joke.
It may have had a ring of truth to it, but mostly, I just wanted her out of the way. I had already agreed to another one of her schemes. That should be enough to keep her occupied and away from my case.
Marksen and Luc changed the subject, but I just wasn’t able to stay as tuned in as I should have been.
My mind raced with questions, mostly about Edwina, or Eddie as I’d learned she liked to be called.
What kind of woman went by the name Eddie?
Was her golden hair a natural blonde?
Would she have let me take her in that bathroom if I hadn’t insinuated that she was a prostitute? What kinds of sounds did she make when she was being fucked?
When I got to my office, would she be there ready to work, or had she asked to be taken off my desk?
Not that it would work. I would simply refuse the transfer.
She was mine and I had already decided I was keeping her.
I preferred to think my decision was strictly professional and that I’d made it to obtain the benefit of her keen legal mind.
But that was bullshit.
She intrigued me and despite the danger to my reputation, I wasn’t ready to release my professional claim on her.
Not, at the very least, until I’d claimed her in an extremely unprofessional way.
CHAPTER 6
EDDIE
“Fuck!” I whisper-shouted as a courier ran past me in the hallway, knocking me out of his way and spilling my fresh cup of scalding coffee all over my bright white blouse.
A few of the others in the bullpen looked up to see what the commotion was. Once they saw it was just a clumsy girl who couldn’t figure out how to get out of the way of a bike messenger on a deadline, they went back to their work.
I dropped the heavy law books I had been holding in my other arm off at my desk and tried to figure out what to do. I couldn’t believe I had ruined this shirt already. It was brand new, and an amazing find, a bright white, no-mystery-stain button-down I had found at a thrift store with the Saks tag still on it tucked in the back. Some careless sales associate had missed it and gave it a two-dollar price, and it was just my size.
So, what did I do with this once-in-a-lifetime score? I dumped a cup of Starbuck’s over-priced dark roast, one of the few extravagances I allowed myself, all over it.
Fuck my life.
“Looking good, Ms. Carmichael.” Detective Patrick D. winked at me as he sauntered by my desk.
I looked down to see the stain had not only ruined my top, but the dampness of the coffee had made it transparent.
That morning, I woke up feeling terrible. The embarrassment from the night before still stung. Every fiber of my being told me to stay in bed, but staying in bed wouldn’t pay the bills, and my bed was damn cold anyway. So I got up and went to work. After being told no and dismissed by Mrs. Lakeson, I wanted to run away with my tail tucked between my legs.
Did I?
No.
Running away and missing a day of work was a privilege I could not afford, so I didn’t. But I really wished I had.
“Oh, dear, that looks like it hurts,” Mr. Astrid’s secretary, Cynthia, said, coming up behind me and making me jump again.
“It doesn’t feel good,” I said, and she gave me a sympathetic look.
“I am going to head out for a bit. Would you like me to grab you another cup of coffee, deary?”
Cynthia was the sweetest woman on the planet and looked like she had a Werther’s candy in her pocket at all times. The other paralegals warned me about her. She was nice until you messed something up for Mr. Astrid. Then she was a viper.
She may have looked like a sweet grandmother who should’ve been home knitting socks for her grandbabies, but she was ruthless when protecting Mr. Astrid and keeping his schedule set.
“Yes, please. When is Mr. Astrid expected in?” I asked, deflating a bit.
“Not for some time.” She patted me on the shoulder. “He had a breakfast meeting,” she said as she gathered her giant purse and headed out at a deliberately slow pace.
I took a moment to breathe.
Mr. Astrid wasn’t here yet.