When You Give a Lawyer a Kiss (Aspen Grove)

Chapter 9

I ’m on a call with the opposing counsel for one of my cases the next morning. New information has come to light, making it necessary for us to discuss it privately before he shares the details with his client. However, so far, he hasn’t grasped the severity of the situation.

“No, Donald, it’s a shitty offer.” I stare into the camera. “Let me be clear: if we’re going to settle, you’ll have to do much better than that. I know all about your client’s extracurricular activities, and I’ve got the proof to back it up.”

His face drains of color. “What the hell are you talking about? What evidence?”

“Did you actually believe my team wouldn’t uncover your affair with your client? Seriously, Donald, how could you be that naive?” I pause to give my words a second to sink in. “I’m curious what your wife will say when she finds out. According to the infidelity clause in your prenup, Vickie stands to gain three vacation homes in both Florida and Bali if you’re caught cheating. Should I give her a call?” I lift my cell phone, the screen showing Vickie’s number ready to dial.

“How the hell did you get a hold of my prenup?” Donald asks, visibly shaken.

I click my tongue in mock disappointment. “I’d expect someone of your caliber to recognize that information is power.”

My team leaves no stone unturned when investigating opposing counsel and their clients. Even the smallest piece of information can tip the scales of a case. I rarely have to go to trial because our detailed groundwork typically leads to favorable settlements for my clients. But I make sure to be prepared for anything.

“Put your damn phone away,” Donald demands through gritted teeth.

“What’s in it for me and my client?” I ask, cutting to the chase.

It’s best to take advantage when he’s shell-shocked and unable to come up with a counter strategy.

“What do you want?” His voice trembles slightly.

I lean forward, my face devoid of emotion. “For starters, Viking International will sign over exclusive distribution rights to Jameson for the patented process. Plus, compensate him twenty million for their breach of contract.”

“You can’t be serious,” Donald scoffs. “Exclusive rights were never on the table.”

A sardonic grin plays on my face. “They are now,” I state. “Unless you want Vickie and the media to find out that you’ve been fucking your biggest client for the last year. The choice is up to you.”

“You’re a real bastard; you know that, right?”

My finger hovers above the call button. “Do we have a deal or not?” Donald’s eyes flare with indignation as he sweeps a pile of papers from his desk.

“If you’re done with your tantrum, I have another call to make.” I may be ruthless in negotiations, but I have no tolerance for those who play the system for selfish gain, especially at the expense of others. “What’s it going to be, Donald?” I say in a clipped tone.

I keep my eyes trained on him through the computer screen as he silently runs through every possible escape route. The deepening frown on his face shows he’s concluded that there’s no way out. He either complies or suffers the consequences.

“Well?” I push when he doesn’t respond.

He bites his lip so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t bleed. “I’ll draft the contract and send it to your office tomorrow once my client signs.”

Being schooled by a lawyer half his age because of a string of reckless decisions must be a bitter pill to swallow. But I have no sympathy for him. He’s made his bed; now he has to lie in it.

I tap my pen against my desk, narrowing my eyes. “You have until the end of the day.”

“Fine,” he growls. “But this means you won’t call Vickie, right?”

“Correct. As long as you return the contract on time,” I add, setting my phone down in good faith. “It was good doing business with you, Donald.”

I end the call, not giving him a chance to counter. I predict I’ll have the contract within the hour. He won’t risk getting close to the deadline. Not with how much is at stake.

I’m deliberating over whether to pour myself a glass of whiskey now or wait until the signed contract is in my hands when I sense someone watching me.

I glance up to find Reese standing at the doorway, her eyes clouded with disappointment. “Why did you do that?” she whispers, her eyes widening when she realizes she spoke out loud.

“Do what?” I watch her closely as she tucks her hair behind her ear.

I brace myself for her disappointment. She must be upset that I would resort to blackmail and use underhanded tactics. Reese tends to follow the rules, so I suspect my approach disappoints her. The idea of letting her down bothers me more than it should.

She gulps loudly. “Let Donald get away with cheating on his wife. Don’t you think she has a right to know she’s married to a fraud?” Reese steps forward, looking like she’s unsure how I’ll react.

My mouth falls open slightly, stunned. “Not everything is black and white, especially in this business,” I say.

“No, but it’s the right thing to do,” she states with conviction. “Is money really worth allowing someone to get away with that kind of deception?”

God, she’s adorable when she’s all fired up.

I drum my fingers against my desk. “I might be aggressive and unyielding, but I won’t back down when greedy adversaries try to exploit me or my clients.”

She purses her lips. “Does opposing counsel do the same to you and your clients?”

I shake my head. “They wish they were so lucky. I do my research before working with a new client, and know exactly what I’m dealing with from the get-go to avoid any surprises.”

Towing the line with Reese is the first impulsive thing I’ve done that could have repercussions for us both.

“For example, Harrison, one of my most reliable clients, is a billionaire who also happens to be the most straight-laced guy I know. I’ve found it’s best not to judge a book by its cover.” I use the same words she used on me the night at the tattoo shop. I leave out the part where I’m a billionaire, too, worried that will scare her off. “Why don’t you have a look at those, and you’ll see what I mean.” I nod toward a pile of folders on my desk.

Reese takes a tentative step forward to retrieve them and sits on the couch in the corner. She flips through the documents, pausing at the dossier I compiled for Donald. I maintain one for opposing counsel and their clients, with detailed notes of potential leverage. It’s important to have it ready, never knowing when the information might come in handy. Just like it did today.

She opens the dossier and begins reading the first page, a myriad of emotions flickering across her face, shifting from apprehension to confusion, and finally realization. After she’s done, her shoulders slump as she nibbles on her lower lip.

With a downcast gaze, she whispers, “You were never going to let Donald off the hook.”

I let a small grin slip. “No, Red, I wasn’t.”

A week after the funds are transferred from Donald’s client, an encrypted email from an anonymous source will land in his wife’s personal inbox, exposing all the evidence of Donald’s affair. On top of that, all the illicit messages he sent to his client using his company’s chat system will conveniently be brought to his business partners’ attention by their IT department.

This will absolve me of any blame and guarantee that my client and I receive the compensation we’re owed, along with the justice I’m after.

Reese shuts the folder, a quizzical look in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”

“Because it seems you want to paint me as a villain.” I get up from my chair and take a seat next to her on the couch, allowing my leg to graze against hers. “Why is that?”

She’s been working with me for two weeks and has been doing everything she can to create space between us—a stark contrast from the woman who bolted into my tattoo shop and kissed me with unguarded passion. And I want nothing more than to break down her walls and reignite the inferno we shared that night.

Admittedly, my desire goes beyond physical attraction. Since our conversation last night where she shared some of her favorite things, I find myself increasingly curious about her, and want to learn more about her interests and experiences. Every new thing she shares about herself is like a new tattoo on a sleeve—each one telling another part of her story.

Reese looks up, her green eyes meeting mine. “It’s easier that way.”

“What is?” I ask.

“If you were cold and cruel, I could pretend that I’m not attracted to you,” she murmurs. “But instead, you’re kind of decent under that gruff exterior. Even when you act like a jerk, it’s clear you have good intentions.”

I cup her chin, tilting her face to meet my gaze. I’m tempted to close the space between us and kiss her. She’s the most alluring woman I’ve met, and I know that if I give in, I’ll be consumed by an insatiable longing to do it again. Whether or not I’m ready to admit it, Reese Taylor could turn my world upside down if I let her.

But the reality is that she’s my paralegal, and aside from our mutual chemistry, we don’t seem to have much in common. While she’s empathetic and understanding, always seeing the best in people, I’m suspicious and wary, quick to notice their flaws. I’m a guarded cynic masking my vulnerability with calculated indifference. I’m the guy who prefers a casual fling, and Reese strikes me as someone longing for commitment.

Like ink embedded in the skin, she’s etched in my mind, impossible to erase. The space between us feels like a chasm I’m desperate to close, even though I shouldn’t.

“You’re so damn beautiful.” I trace the freckles dotting the bridge of her nose with my thumb. “Being this close to you makes me want to throw out every rational notion and kiss you.” Her eyes widen at my admission. “But I’m not going to do that.”

She blinks up at me, her brow furrowed. “You’re not?”

I force myself to remove my hand from her face. “No. Because I’m trying to be on my best behavior.” Even though I’d rather not have to be. “Given how much this job means to you, I should never have put you in a position where it could be compromised.”

Disappointment flickers across Reese’s face, but she quickly replaces it with a polite smile. “I should get back to work.”

She gets up, and I watch helplessly as she exits my office and closes the door behind her. My self-control is hanging by a thread, but somehow I refrain from going after her.

Over the next few hours, I pour myself into work reviewing a contract and taking a call with Jeremy, to review new information he’s found for the Irving case. By the time I check my watch, I see that it’s past noon. The rest of the office is at lunch, which means it’s the one time I can walk the floor without interruption.

I’m relieved when I step into the hall and notice Reese’s desk is empty. She must be out too. The last thing I need is the temptation of us being alone again today. She’s addicting, and I’m powerless to her orbit, one that’s drawn me in deeper with every fleeting glance and stolen moment. The more I try to steer clear, the harder it is to stay away.

An open book on her desk catches my eye. My curiosity is piqued when I take a closer look and discover it’s an LSAT study guide, heavily annotated with highlights, margin notes, and sticky tabs marking various sections.

Reese hasn’t mentioned that she was planning to go to law school. Normally I don’t delve into my employees’ personal lives. As long as they deliver results and meet my high expectations, I keep my distance. Yet, Reese has become the exception.

A pang of guilt hits me. I’ve been keeping her late almost every night, driven by my desire to have her close. I hadn’t considered how it might affect her life outside of the office. With her demanding schedule, how does she manage to balance it all?

Since starting at Thompson & Tate, no matter how heavy her workload, she hasn’t complained. I knew she was driven and committed to her job, but I didn’t realize to what extent. Now that I have this small piece of information about her, it confirms my earlier sentiment—I want to know everything. It’s a dangerous thought for someone who is supposed to be maintaining his distance.

While it’s best that we keep things strictly professional, there’s no harm in finding ways to ease her burden and make her workload more manageable.

Right?