Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
“Did you fuck her?”
“If I did,” I say, “I wouldn’t tell you. That would be her story to tell.”
“She’s been through a lot,” he says.
“Which is why I’m going to mentor the hell out of her, whether she likes it or not.” I stand up. “Let’s get to that partners meeting. We have the world to rule.”
With that statement, we shift into our own warrior mode. We exit to the outer offices, a mission between us to be achieved; battles new and yet to be discovered to be fought and won. While I have one battle of my own to win, and her name is Lori Havens.
Chapter nineteen
Lori
Ileave Cole’s office in a rush of heat and adrenaline, but somehow, I walk calmly through the workplace, and claim my desk in the middle of cubicle city, home to dozens of people that I haven’t even met beyond a passing formality. A big win for me right about now is that I manage to do all of this and sit down before my knees give out.
He affects me.
God, how Cole affects me like no other man—no, no other human being has ever affected me. He was right. I do still want him and what kind of fool wants a man who will likely be back in that bar where we met, finding someone else’s ass to smack this very night? I shove that thought aside. He’s my boss. This is a job. This is my future and I will not lay down for it, in any sense of the word. I will not want that man one more second.
Ever.
I ignore the computer on my desk, and avoiding a learning curve, pull my far more comfortable MacBook from my briefcase. Powering it up, I waste no time googling “Cole Brooks Houston” and not for personal information. It’s my duty. A long list of data pops up, including a number of pictures with him looking hot as hell, distracting me from my work mission, and fuck you, Cole Brooks for that and more, but not literally. I start to read and in a matter of minutes, I’ve finally homed in on my job and tuned out the personal junk, and it is junk. I’m absorbed in the legality of Cole’s work and quickly taking notes. Two hours later, I decide that Cole Brooks is not all talk, not in the bedroom, and not in the courtroom. He wins, and he wins when no one else would win. He’s good at his job, and I can learn from him.
I’m about to dive into the background of one of his earliest cases when murmurs spread through the room. Glancing up, my eyes land on Cole and Reese, in obvious deep conversation, as they stride down the pathway between the cubicles, headed my direction. I, like everyone else, find them a mesmerizing mix of power, confidence, and good looks. Of course, good looks and even confidence don’t mix to create winning attorneys, but it’s icing on the cakes of two men in their prime, on top of their game. Every step they take together seems to scream unstoppable.
They come nearer, and I force myself to turn away and focus on my computer, on the stories of the one man between the two of them that has consumed my world. I know the minute they’re aligned with me, about to pass me, the minute Cole is on this side of me. I feel him. He stops abruptly, and I instinctively rotate my chair, my gaze colliding with his, the impact a jolt I pray no one notices. Cole glances at Reese. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Even before Reese replies Cole steps to the door of my cubicle, his big, perfect body consuming the entire tiny space. “This is where they put you permanently?” he demands.
“As far as I know, yes,” I say.
“This is unacceptable. Gather your things.”
I blanch. “What?”
“Gather your things,” he repeats, no shift in his tone. “You’re not staying here.”
I want to argue. I want to say that this is where I belong. All eyes will be on me because they are on him and those people will question why I’m being treated differently than them. People will assume I’m sleeping my way to the top, but I can do nothing to stop it. Not now. Not without making it worse. Accepting my circumstances, and therefore, his unbendable command, I slide my MacBook in my briefcase and stuff the files HR gave me inside with it. The minute I stand and slip my briefcase and purse on my shoulder, he says, “Come with me,” and doesn’t wait for my agreement. He starts walking.
I double step and quickly catch up. “Mr. Brooks—”
“Cole,” he corrects without looking at me.
“Mr. Brooks,” I say softly, reminding him that he’s my boss.