Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“No.” She hisses. “Nothing you could ever say would make me reconsider wasting another second with you. I’ve moved on.”
“What?” My blood boils. “You’re with someone else?”
“That’s none of your business, Jameson.”
“It is…” I can’t believe this shit. “Tell me.”
“Don’t you have a huge case to work on for my father?” There’s venom in her voice. “Surely, you should be spending your time on your big, ‘eight-figure client,’ instead of on the person who wants nothing to do with you.”
“It’s only been a little over a month since I saw you,” I say. “Whatever you have with this new guy better not be serious.”
“And if it is?”
A heavy pang knocks against my chest before I can answer her question.
“He won’t measure up to me in any way,” I say, finally. “You’d be lowering your standards.”
“My only standard is that he’s not you.” She ends the call.
Before I can call her back, my door opens and Rachel pokes her head inside.
She gives me the “Your client is a fucking idiot” look, the look that lets me know I’m going to have to resort to drastic measures if I want to win at trial.
“I’ll handle it,” I say to her.
“Today?”
“Yes. Today, Rachel.” I nod. “I’ll make the call right now.”
“In that case, you won’t mind me watching.” She steps inside, her arms crossed. “You’re still off your A-game these days and I no longer trust you. No offense.”
“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “Make a note to fire yourself eight weeks from now.”
“Please.” She points to my phone. “Make the call.”
I consider sending Scarlett a text before dialing, but I hesitate.
It can wait for a couple minutes…
Scrolling down to Damien Carter’s name, I hold back a sigh and hit call.
“Hello, Jameson,” he answers before it can ring. “Are you calling to finally take me up on my offer to work at Hamilton & Associates?”
“No, never,” I say. “I need a favor.”
“Only if it’s one hundred percent legal, Mr. Tate.”
“Would I be calling you if it was legal?”
“Probably not.” He laughs. “What do you need?”
“An alternate defense for a penguin thief,” I say. “And by ‘alternate defense,’ I mean lots of dirt on the Aquarium owners—any violations they’ve ever had, camera footage of things behind the scenes, and anything that would make them drop the case before trial.”
“How devious of you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“When do you need this done by?”
“Next Friday,” I say. “Send me an invoice with whatever you find.”
“Don’t you have interns or an assistant who can do this for you?”
“My most trusted assistant has too much on her plate right now.”
“Understandable. Just so you know, I’ll have to invoice you for this phone call, too.”
“Thank you for reminding me why I don’t like you.”
“You love me, Jameson.”
“I tolerate you.” I end the call and look over at Rachel. “Happy?”
“For now,” she says. “See you in an hour for the Lippman deposition. Don’t make me come looking for you.”
“Last I checked, I’m the boss here, Rachel.”
“Well, whenever you stop moping around and forgetting appointments, I’ll go back to treating you like it.” She leaves the room and I plop down in a chair.
Before I can call Scarlett again, I notice she’s sent me new text messages.
Scarlett
DO NOT EVER CALL ME AGAIN & DO NOT COME SEE ME.
I’m flying into town this weekend for a FRIEND, not you, and I’ll be flying back out to my new life WITHOUT YOU.
Forever.
Thank you in advance.
I had no idea you flew away to begin with...
WAIVE (V.):
TO VOLUNTARILY GIVE UP A LEGAL RIGHT, CLAIM, OR PRIVILEGE, OR CHOOSE NOT TO ENFORCE A CONTRACTUAL TERM.
SCARLETT
A few days later
New York welcomes me home with a cold slap of wind and a blanket of freezing rain. It’s as if it wants to mirror exactly how I’ve felt since I left, like it can’t help but make my heart hurt even worse.
Slipping inside an Uber, I hold back tears as the driver coasts onto the road.
Stop thinking about Jameson. Don’t you dare think about Jameson.
The warnings fail the moment we reach our first stoplight, when I remember the first night we met.
Suddenly, my mind is serving me memories of his lips on mine, his fingers threading through my hair, his whispers as I rode his cock.
Ugh. I shake them away and look outside the window.
Through the glass, Manhattan’s skyline twinkles brightly—every light a reminder of how my life used to be here—but I’ve promised my heart to Los Angeles.
At least, for now.
“You mind if I turn on some music?” The driver’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “Unless you want to discuss me taking you out to dinner tonight.”
“Music would be fine…”
He laughs and turns on some soft rock.
As he pulls closer to the city, I brace myself for being so close to Jameson’s world, so I make a mental note to shut my eyes whenever we pass his firm.