Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“Get out.” I point to the door, clutching the towel with my other hand.
“Fine. I’ll wait for you to get dressed.” The corner of his mouth tips up. “But don’t feel you have to on my behalf.”
Like always, his innocent flirtation causes my heart to race as I say, “Get out,” again. But it doesn’t sound as harsh this time. I’m so weak when it comes to him.
He smirks as he leaves the room, and I slam the door behind him. After I dry my hair, I slip on a cream-colored shift dress and heels before I apply light makeup. When I enter the living room, Roman is sitting on my couch, powerful thighs spread.
“How did you get in?” I ask, parking a hand on my hip.
“It was easy.” He stands from the couch and prowls closer to me. “Follow me, and I’ll show you.” He leads me down the hallway and back into the bathroom, where he opens the window and says, “Ta-dah. You didn’t lock the window.”
“Oh. Oops.”
He towers over me and places his large hands on my shoulders. “Greer, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
I gaze into the face I’ve known since I was a kid, fiddling with the necklace around my neck he gave me when we were younger. He’s grown into quite the man since those days—bearded jaw, broad shoulders, bulging biceps—but his piercing blue eyes haven’t changed even a shade over the years.
“I’m fine,” I tell him because I know I am. “I’ve been training with Chloe every week at the YMCA. I’m one of her best students.” At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
“How’s Chloe doing? I haven’t seen her in a while.”
My eyes glaze over as I think about the baby niece or nephew Chloe will be bringing into the world in a few weeks. “She’s great.”
Roman’s gaze skims over my face. “Well, you’re definitely learning a lot from her class.”
He looks proud of me, and I bask in it for a brief second before I need away from his overwhelming presence. It’s the unrequited crush I’ve had for him for ages. I hate being close to him because I’m always afraid I’m going to blurt out something silly like “I want to have your babies.”
“Well, now that you’ve seen me naked, I need to head to work.” He swallows roughly and I give him an awkward nod. “I have a meeting with the partners this morning. I’m expecting them to give me the Delgado case.”
“You really want that case?” he asks as we leave the bathroom and head toward the front door.
“Yes.” For me, it’s the case of a lifetime. Honestly, it doesn’t look good for Bane, but I’m sure we can win.
Lucky for me, once I’m assigned Bane as a client, I have a bit of time to get my defense case together. Based on the biased gossip from the podcast, I'm hoping we can get a jury that will be fair and impartial.
I grab my handbag and keys from the entryway table as Roman opens the door. “Listen…”
Roman stops with his hand on the door knob.
“Are things going to be weird between us now that you’ve seen me naked? Are you going to come to brunch on Sundays and feel uncomfortable?”
“Do I look uncomfortable?” he asks.
I use his question as an opportunity to gawk at him, because screw those wine bitches for making me feel like I can’t. My gaze roams over the dark hair peeking out from his ball cap, down his lean muscles and long legs, to the black boots on his big feet.
“It’s taking you a long time to answer,” he says.
My eyes zip back to his amused face. “I guess not.”
“You seem uncertain. But I can say with certainty, those cheerleaders from high school have nothing on you.”
And then he walks into the sunlight, leaving me with my jaw on the floor that he remembers that conversation from so long ago.
“We don’t think you’re a good fit for the Delgado case.”
I blink, bewildered by what Mr. Beaumont just said. “Excuse me?” I was sure I was getting this case.
Mr. Beaumont, senior partner, peers across the glossy table at me with sharp hazel eyes, while the other suits in the room act like this isn’t earth-shattering news for me. “Greer, the Delgado case has the potential to go national, and we feel you could be a distraction. Present the wrong image.”
“Although you’re a brilliant lawyer, we’re alarmed by the online chatter about you,” Mr. Stanford, another partner, chimes in. “We think it best to hand this case to someone more settled. Someone who won’t end up in the tabloids with the defendant. Someone who won’t draw speculation about their private life, because they’re, well, settled.”
He means someone married or in a relationship. I clasp my hands together on the shimmery mahogany conference room table while I process what they’re telling me. When I took the position at Stanford, Beaumont, and Lind, I knew they had archaic expectations of the people who become the top lawyers in the firm. They’re an older bunch and it’s an old-fashioned firm. Honestly, I figured they’d all die before it became a problem for me. Looks like I figured wrong.