Pride & Precedents (The Park Brothers #2)

8. Camila

Chapter eight

Camila

O n my way down the hall from the restroom, I brace myself for an uncomfortable night of forced laughs and awkward small talk with the gorgeous man who holds my future in his hands, and his equally hot twin. Henry gets 8am to 7pm most days and now he wants my first night out in months too?

I scan the bar, hoping for a possible escape route. Rory won't have any trouble keeping them entertained. Anyway, it's not like she hasn't ditched me at a club before, usually to hook up with a hot bartender or bouncer. The tipsy hipsters are chugging Pabst Blue Ribbon at the bar, and the women from the bachelorette party settled in the booth Rory and I were in. They seem to be trying to drown out the rest of the room with their shrieks and laughter; I can only imagine the headache I'd get if I sat anywhere near them.

I finally risk a glance at the booth with my boss, and see Rory with her head tilted back in a full-on laugh. She's almost tearing up! What the hell? I push my way to the table and her eyes widen when she sees me.

"Mila! Oh my God! How come you never told me your boss is so funny?"

Maybe because five minutes ago, I wouldn't have thought Mr. Uptight even knew what a joke was ? Instead of answering her, I do my best impression of a fish gasping for air.

"Uh…"

Henry gives me a sardonic grin.

"Unfortunately, she wouldn't know. There's hardly an opportunity for jokes when we're validating allegations of infidelity and negotiating alimony payments large enough to buy a condo in Greenwich, is there, Mila?"

I slide into the booth next to Rory, still gaping at "Bizarro Henry" and trying to ignore the tingle I got when he called me Mila.

"Um, yeah…Definitely."

I choose to ignore Henry's raised eyebrow at my lack of eloquence and extend my hand to "Flashy Suit Henry" instead. I give him my most charming smile. Henry's jaw clenches.

"I'm Camila Sanchez. It's great to meet you."

"Oh, how rude of me!" he says, pumping my outstretched hand enthusiastically. "I'm Noah, Henry's more stylish, more handsome, and definitely more fun, younger brother."

Henry rolls his eyes and elbows Noah in the ribcage.

"You're only younger by six minutes."

"It still counts, bro," Noah replies, rubbing the pain out of his side.

I laugh lightly at the brotherly teasing, even though I still can't get over that I'm now seeing two jacked Keanus, and the one I've been secretly fantasizing about for years has suddenly grown a sense of humor. I will not fuck my boss. I will not fuck my boss. The veins in his hands as he fingers the rim of his whiskey glass catch my eye and I gulp. I might fuck my boss. Or at least try.

I clear my throat, supercharged images now swirling around in my head.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Noah."

I take a sip of my refilled pi?a colada ( Thanks, Rory! ) and feel my composure returning.

"So, what brings you both to Brooklyn? I know Henry lives in Westchester, so…"

"Like I said earlier, I'm here to celebrate. My company was just chosen to handle the US representation for Song Kang. He's—"

"From 'Forecasting Love and Weather'?!," I practically screech. Rory winces and Henry and Noah exchange shocked glances.

"You know that show?" asks Noah.

"No. I don't know that show. I love that show! Song Kang is super hot." My cheeks redden and Noah doesn't try to hide his grin.

"Forgive my sister," Rory interrupts before I can continue my ode to all things Song Kang. "Mila is obsessed with K-dramas. She knows all the actors. She has a watch party any time a new show drops." Rory continues, despite the scarlet shade of my cheeks. "She even taught herself how to make chamchi gimbap and hoedeopbap. My brother, Gabe, and I were her guinea pigs. Did I say that right?"

"You sure did," Noah smiles, clearly amused and surprised by my fan-girling. Dios mio! Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut? I can feel the redness spreading down to my neck.

"What can I say?" I shrug. "The food in all of them looks so good, I just had to try it. If this one," I point to Henry, "ever lets me take a vacation, I might have to visit Seoul in person."

"If you want authentic Korean food without the expensive flight, you can always come to our house on Sundays. With five sons who were like bottomless pits, Mom can throw down."

My eyes dart back to Henry to gauge his reaction to the invitation; he's bobbing his head in agreement. Can a person die from shock?

"Sure. I'll have to take you up on that." Not.

For the next hour, the drinks keep flowing and Noah wows us all with stories of crazy clients. He doesn't give us names, of course, but from what I can tell, all actors are either crazy, neurotic, high-maintenance, or all three. If Entertainment Law is in my future, at least it won't be boring.

Henry tells a few embarrassing stories at Noah's expense, but avoids anything about clients, even without sharing names. Ever the boy scout. Meanwhile, I've been plotting Rory's death for flirting so shamelessly, falling all over him whenever he says something even remotely clever. She and I are going to have to have some serious girl talk later.

Despite doing his best to maintain the celebratory mood, something still seems off with Henry. His smiles don't reach his eyes, and I'm guessing whatever was bothering him at work is still in the back of his head. Noah stands from the table, gulping down the last of his whiskey soda.

"All right, ladies and gents. I've got to call it a night."

"Boo!," yells Rory, eager to continue the party. Ah, to be twenty-five again. Noah lets out a good-natured chuckle.

"Sorry to kill the party, Rory." He eats a fry off Henry's plate. "As I said, I've got the tab. Get home safely, everyone."

Rory stands up and grabs her cardigan. It may be spring, but winter isn't quite ready to let go.

"I need to head out, too. I'm doing some AD work for my friend's indie production and I'm pretty sure call time is," she looks at her watch and groans, "five hours from now."

"Ouch!" says Henry. He stands to hug Rory as she leaves. "Nice to meet you, Rory. Get home safe."

She hugs him back tightly, and I have to suppress a growl. I avert my eyes to hide my jealousy, but when I look up, she winks and walks towards the door. Busted again! Noah looks meaningfully between Henry and I.

"Looks like it's just you two. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Henry rolls his eyes and settles back down in his seat.

"Later, bro."

And now we're alone. It's just me, my super hot boss, and way too many drinks. I'm pretty sure there are at least ten movies about this sort of thing. Henry's leaned back against the back of the booth, his eyes closed. His Adam's apple is pronounced against his strong and defined neck. Am I really checking out a neck? Get a grip, girl! I clear my throat, hoping that will clear my lustful thoughts, too.

"So, are you drunk enough to tell me the truth about you and our new VIP client?" Henry lifts his head and opens his mouth to protest. "And don't tell me it's nothing, because you were not yourself today."

He sighs and actually seems a bit chagrined. I've never seen the expression on his face, and it makes him look ten years younger. Vulnerable.

"Well…" he hesitates briefly, before shrugging to himself and continuing. "Naomi wasn't technically my girlfriend, but we knew each other in the biblical sense during law school. Right before I was going to take things to the next level, she hooked up with my teammate from crew."

Henry can tell from my face, I don't know what "crew" is.

"That's rowing? The long, skinny boats with four guys on them?"

"Got it. Continue."

Henry looks confused.

"There's not much more to the story. Apparently, she liked my teammate enough to marry him. He's Tanner Moore, fitness mogul and her soon-to-be ex-husband."

I sit back against the booth, flabbergasted.

"Shit. What are the odds?"

"Indeed."

"But," I lean forward and look Henry in the eye. "I don't get it. So she's an old hookup. The world is small. Why did that have you sweating in the meeting this morning?"

Henry frowns, looking like a petulant middle schooler.

"I was not sweating."

I giggle. I can't help but want to poke the bear.

"You were too. And then you came back from lunch looking like you'd slept in your clothes. Thank goodness you stayed holed up in your office."

I laugh at how uncomfortable Henry looks.

"Well…" He downs his Black Label and clears his throat. "First, let me say thank you for not pointing all that out while we were in the office."

"Of course. I would never do anything to jeopardize your standing at work."

"Second, you're right. I guess you could call Naomi my," he looks really uncomfortable now, but something tells me it's the wrong time to laugh, "first love. At least…I loved her . She broke my dumb, twenty-four-year-old heart, but she never even knew I felt that way about her." As if realizing he's revealed too much, he straightens. "But again, it will not stop me from doing my job to the best of my ability. It was forever ago. And I'm a professional."

I give him my best "understanding" face, usually reserved for when one of Gabriel's unrequited crushes shot him down, or when Aurora slashed her ex's tires when he dumped her right before taking a semester abroad. Gosh, they are full-on adults now.

"Henry, don't worry about it. I know you wouldn't let some history get in the way of helping a client. You're the best attorney I know, and still you have morals and character. I don't know if you realize how rare that is."

He smiles, his thigh brushing mine under the table.

"Thank you, Camila. That actually means a lot to me."

I gasp, and Henry pulls his leg back, alarmed.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just…you called me 'Camila'."

He looked confused.

"That's your name, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but you never call me that. It's always 'Ms. Sanchez'."

Henry relaxes and lets his knee once again bump mine.

"I am a bit uptight, aren't I?"

I laugh weakly, unsure whether I should agree in case he remembers this on Monday.

"You said it, not me."

He laughs and scoots even closer so our entire sides are pressed together. My skin feels like it's on fire and goosebumps break out all over my body.

"That's just at the office. There's no reason I can't call you by your name when we're on our own. Camila is a beautiful name, by the way."

He's leaning even closer now, stroking his hand lightly up and down my arm. I shrugged out of my suit jacket as soon as we got here, and my arms are bare to him in just my silk shell.

He's staring at my mouth now. Either Henry is about to kiss me, or I'm experiencing the first signs of a stroke. He leans in, slow enough to give me the chance to retreat, should I choose. But I wouldn't. Not with how I feel tonight. Not after all these years.

Tonight, I release a contented sigh as he presses his lips against mine. The kiss is delicate at first, restrained because neither of us know whether we should cross this line. I open my mouth in invitation, and that's all he needs to slip his tongue inside.

And now I see why all those women embarrassed themselves for another date. He is a god with his mouth. His tongue expertly strokes against mine, his lips firm and insistent. He puts one hand around my throat and the other at my nape to tilt my head and deepen the kiss. I see you, Mr. Park! Who knew you had kissing game like this?!

I can do nothing but grab hold of his sides while he plunders my mouth. My panties are a lost cause at this point; someone decided to replace my pussy with Niagara Falls. But eventually, my brain recovers and I remember that I've got kissing skills, too.

I pull his hands from my neck and place them on my hips, before hugging him close and taking over the kiss. He moans in approval as my hands run up and down his back, even using my nails at some points. I let one hand venture to the front of his pants and discover that someone has replaced Henry's dick with the Eiffel Tower—it's hard as steel and sticking straight up. Thank God the booth offers us some privacy.

I kiss him with all the longing I've felt for him, all the pent up sexual tension I thought only I could feel. We pass dominance back and forth between us like a volleyball, the kiss so intense that I don't notice his hand has moved until it's squeezing my right breast.

"Holy shit, Henry!"

He smiles against my lips before going back to unraveling me, his thumb brushing my nipple while the other hand squeezes my hip.

98.7% of my brain is totally on board with this. Henry is hot, he's built, and, from what I just felt, he's packing. If his mouth can do wizardry, I am more than down to find out what his dick can do.

But that pesky 1.3% keeps whispering, What's going to happen on Monday? Is it a good idea to get involved when you know it can't go anywhere because of all his stupid rules? Could you be his paralegal and his secret hookup and still hold on to your dignity? And it fucking sucks, because I'm pretty sure that 1.3% is right. I start to slow the kiss, and gently ease away.

"As much fun as this is," Henry smirks and God! it looks hot on him, "it's getting pretty late and I've got to get home to the Bronx. Hopefully the trains are still running."

That's a complete lie. Nothing's waiting for me at home but that mid-term I still need to take. I just know that if he keeps kissing me like that, I'm going to fuck him; damn the consequences!

Henry smiles, his lips looking deliciously swollen from our kiss. I take a mental picture.

"It is getting a bit late." Damn, he didn't put up much of a fight. "But if you think I'm letting you take the subway home at this hour, you don't know me at all."

He stands up from the booth, grabs his jacket and offers me his hand.

"C'mon. I'll have Murray drive you home."

"But what about you?" Because no way are we riding together. I don't think I'd be able to restrain myself in a car with him all the way to the Bronx. He shrugs, unbothered by the idea of stranding himself in Brooklyn.

"My parents live not too far from here. I'll just crash there tonight and have Murray pick me up in the morning."

"OK," I say, suddenly shy. How do you say "good night" after a kiss like that?

We step into the cool night air, and a black Escalade pulls up to the curb. Henry opens the door for me and helps me into the car, his hand warm on mine.

"Good night, Camila. Get home safely."

His voice is a purr, and now all I want to do is pet him.

"You too, Henry."

He smiles, steps back, and closes the heavy door, extinguishing the current sparking between us. My address is already entered into the GPS, and Murray wordlessly begins navigating the narrow Brooklyn streets.

Shit. What just happened?