Pride & Precedents (The Park Brothers #2)

21. Henry

Chapter twenty-one

Henry

Noah

Noah: C'mon, bro. How much longer are you going to keep ignoring me?

Noah: I said I was sorry!

Noah: I'm really REALLY sorry! That stuff about Camila just slipped out when we were playing pool and Cory just can't help being an asshole.

Noah: Between you and me, I'm a little worried about him. Something happened with him and Maya (I don't know what), and now he's even douchey-er than normal.

Noah: Is that a word? Douchey-er? That doesn't look right.

I shake my head at Noah's rapid-fire texts. He's been sending them nonstop. I had to silence my phone when I was out with Camila, which apparently he took as a sign to text more . I scroll through days of unanswered texts since our big blowout and can only sigh. I'm going to forgive him—we're family, after all—just…not yet. The sting of Cory's words, of Noah's betrayal of my confidence, is still fresh.

I put my phone face down on the desk and think of her for the hundredth time today. Camila . She's fierce and sweet and so fucking hot my mouth waters just thinking about her. It was so hard not to touch her when she came in this morning, remembering how easily her fingers intertwined with mine on our walk through the city. It felt good. It felt…right.

My penchant for casual affairs is well-known and I've never felt the need to apologize for it. All the women I was with knew it was transactional. Our assistants would sync our calendars, we'd meet for a nice meal, we'd fuck at my place or theirs, and, if our schedules lined up again, we'd do it again. No holding hands. No deep conversations. No one had ever even slept over.

The truth of that had hit me like a ton of bricks as we passed Bryant Park after lunch. Before Camila, I had never spent the night with a woman, not even Naomi. And not only had I spent the night, I'd slept . I thought back to that first night with Camila, the first time we kissed. I slept then, too. Though a fair amount of alcohol was involved, I think I always suspected it was more than that. Better to cut it off before things got too real. Of course, I couldn't even do that. My feelings for Camila—and there most definitely are feelings, big ones—were growing even then. Some part of my subconscious knew; it had just taken me a few extra weeks to figure it out.

When I realized, I didn't react. I kept walking, kept talking. Didn't let on that while it seemed we were both strolling down Sixth Avenue, I suddenly found myself in unknown territory. The usual rules no longer seem to apply. Maybe they never should have to begin with.

The beep of the intercom cuts into my reverie.

"Mr. Park?"

"Yes, Camila?" I answer, cursing myself for my informal greeting. I can't afford to get sloppy just because my heart's started to feel a little funny.

"Um," she falters. From the tremble in her voice, she noticed my slip, too. "Ms. Watanabe is in conference room C for your two o'clock. Would you like me to join you?"

I'd love for you to join me, but I'm this close to bending you over and having my way with you and I don't think the client would appreciate being billed for that.

"That won't be necessary," I say, opting for a response that doesn't make me sound like a Stage 5 Clinger. I swear if I were a cartoon, there'd be hearts in my eyes.

She shoots me a look as I pass her desk. I smile reassuringly, and she looks even more concerned. Shit. I guess Sub Zero doesn't go around smiling at people. I take a calming breath as I push through the conference room door. Game face, Henry!

"Hi there, Henry," Naomi purrs, standing to greet me.

There's no denying she's beautiful. Long legs, silky hair that flows down her back, almond eyes full of secrets, and a mouth stuck in a perpetual pout. She looks the same as she did the first time I saw her, just with deeper smile lines and a sophistication she never could have pulled off in grad school. While my mind replays memories of Camila's melodic laughter ringing in my ears, her small hands wrapped in mine, her teasing smile eager for my kiss, my traitorous body reacts to Naomi, straining to rekindle a connection cut short years ago.

I reach into my briefcase for the documents that reveal Tanner's hidden properties, leafing through manila folders and stapled papers before I find it. When I turn back, Naomi's right beside me, her hand inches from my shoulder. I shift away, looking from her outstretched hand to her face with a question in my eyes. She looks at me with a hopeful smile.

"Can't an old friend get a hug?"

I eye her warily, and she raises her hands in a placating gesture.

"OK. I get it. So what have you got for me?"

She sits in the chair next to me, our knees nearly touching, and I remain on alert. Something isn't right.

"Tanner has been lying to you, Ms. Watanabe. We found three properties that weren't declared among the assets."

Her face goes hard, and I continue.

"There's a house in Vermont, a Chicago apartment, and a condo in South Beach." Her jaw and fists are clenched.

"These properties were all transferred from Tanner's name within the last two years."

Finally she erupts, jumping out of her seat.

"That son of a bitch!" Fury gleams in her eyes. "Two years ago is when I caught that bastard cheating on me with one of his fitness instructors. We worked it out, for our daughter's sake, and I thought we got past it." She's pacing back and forth now, getting more and more agitated as she speaks.

"I didn't file because he cheated. I filed because I was done ! Done with the counselors, and the failed attempts to spice things up in the bedroom, and all that other bullshit.

"Things got worse when he started prepping for the IPO, then I got the job offer, and it was like a sign. Now I find out that asshole was planning to screw me this whole time?!"

I pull out the chair next to me, urging her to sit. She ignores me, continuing to pace.

"I'm sorry to have to share such upsetting news." I say calmly. As freak-outs go, this one is actually pretty mild. "Unfortunately, this is quite common in divorce proceedings, but thanks to these documents, we have everything we need to make him pay."

Her shoulders drop, and she finally walks back to the conference table and collapses into her chair. She looks tired.

"It's just such a fucking cliché, you know? Woman takes her cheating husband back for the sake of the kids only for him to jerk her around in the divorce." She leans closer and puts her hand on my knee. "This would've never happened if we'd stayed together."

And before I realize what's happening, before I can regain some professional distance, her mouth is on mine. I'm frozen in shock as her hands rove over my body, slipping inside my suit jacket, her fingers tickling the back of my neck. Like a fool, I open my mouth to object, to tell her to stop, and she uses that moment to push her tongue inside.

My body is in turmoil. Here she is, a shining paragon of what could have been, what should have been, throwing herself at me with a desperation that's almost unsettling. In this moment, I'm her life raft in the turbulent storm of her divorce, and I can't help but feel…flattered. To feel vindicated that she's back in my arms, begging me to forgive her betrayal with each brush of her tongue. My arms reflexively slide around her waist, pulling her close enough to feel my inevitable reaction to her.

Our undeniable physical chemistry is on autopilot, drawing us together like magnets, but alarm bells blare loudly, cutting through the sexual haze. What am I doing? Henry Jr. Jr. is quick to forget how careless she was with us. How easy it was for her to cast us aside in favor of a certified douchebag. How she never apologized for breaking my young, stupid heart. And what about Camila?

This is wrong.

I untangle my arms from around Naomi's slight frame and step back forcefully. Naomi wobbles on her heels, grabbing the edge of the table for balance.

Thoughts and emotions buzz around my head like hornets. I'll obviously have to report this to HR and the senior partners. VIP or not, hooking up with a client could cost me my license. I need to nip this in the bud. I also have to step down as Naomi's lawyer. Do I tell Camila? The kiss meant nothing. We're technically not together, but… Shit! This is a clusterfuck.

Naomi's quiet panting draws my gaze, and I whirl to face her, my eyes burning with outrage.

"Why did you do that, Naomi?" I shout, thankful for the sound dampening in all the conference rooms. She flinches.

"I-I'm sorry, Henry." She straightens the hem of her skirt, looking sheepish. "I honestly don't know what came over me. You're here, helping me get rid of Tanner like I should have done all those years ago. I just thought…" She sighs, looking defeated. "I just got swept up in the moment, I guess."

I angrily rake my hands through my hair and scowl at her.

"There was no moment , Naomi. That kiss was not only inappropriate, it was unethical. I'll have to drop your case now."

She huffs out a breath, her acid tone slicing through me.

"Wow. You're acting like I attacked you. Like you didn't kiss me back. You were two seconds from unbuttoning my blouse!"

My palms are sweating. I was such a fool to take this case.

"Naomi," I croak, swallowing around the tightness in my throat. "This whole thing was a mistake. You know there can't be anything between us. I'm your attorney. I can't be anything more than that."

The fight drains from her face.

"You're right, of course," she says, her tone resigned. "I'm really sorry I put you in this position. Between moving cross country, the new job, and the divorce, I feel like I'm going crazy. And then the one that got away basically saves me from my scumbag husband... I guess that's another cliché. Woman can't get over the guy who ghosted her ." She laughs humorlessly.

"Naomi," I say, confused, "am I the guy who ghosted you?"

She lets out an unladylike snort and rolls her eyes.

"One minute, we're hanging out all the time, studying, grabbing meals together. The next, you're not answering my calls, acting like a complete stranger. Yeah, I'd say you ghosted me." Sarcasm drips from every word.

I take off my glasses to pinch the bridge of my nose.

"Are you serious, Naomi? Is that your version of events?"

She looks shocked at the bitter edge in my voice.

"Well…Yes."

Years of resentment and unresolved heartbreak bubble to the surface, and I pound my fist on the table, sending papers in every direction.

"That's rich. That's really rich, Naomi. You're right. We did hang out all the time. We studied. We hooked up. We were basically a couple!" Thank God for frosted glass so the entire office doesn't see me lose my shit.

"I thought so too!" she cries, reaching for me. I yank my body away.

"Oh, yeah?" I shout, anger sour in my mouth. "Then why the fuck did I show up to study that day and find you fucking Tanner?! Tanner! My teammate!" Her face goes pale, which just makes me angrier.

"You didn't know I knew about that, did you? 'I never loved him. You were such a catch' ," I mock, imitating her voice. "Well, you were just as bad as he was! I mean, shit, Naomi, I was fucking in love with you!"

The words hang in the air between us, and I will away angry tears.

"Henry," she whispers, eyes in her lap. "I…made a mistake. He was flirty, and he was always around, and I… We weren't exclusive, you know? I didn't realize you wanted that."

I slouch into my own chair. My eyes are unfocused, and I remember I'm not wearing my glasses. I put them on and feel my composure return.

"That's why I was there that day. I wanted to make things official."

A tiny whimper leaves her lips. I'm too drained to care.

"I can recommend an associate who'll do a great job completing your petition," I say, slipping back into lawyer mode. "I'll pass along all our work so you don't lose any time."

"Thank you," she murmurs. She rises to get her purse and smooths a nonexistent wrinkle from her jacket.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

The door opens and closes with a muffled thud, and she's gone.