“Sure thing.” She smiled, and I entered my corner office.
I shrugged off my grey suit jacket, hung it on the door, and walked over to my glass desk. I had a shit ton of work to do, but my mind was on one thing and one thing only—or one person for that matter.
Monica walked in carrying a sticky note. “Here you go.”
“Brilliant, thank you. Can you also get me a cup of tea?”
“No, problem.” She smiled and turned to leave.
Without hesitation, I picked up the phone and dialed the number Monica gave me. It rang twice before it was answered.
“Chandler and Patterson, how can I direct your call?”
“Peyton Winters,” I clipped.
“One moment.”
My pulse started to race as the call connected.
“Ms. Winter’s office,” a lady—not Peyton, answered.
“Peyton, please.”
“May I… May I ask who’s calling?”
“Booker Jameson.”
“One… one moment, please.” I was placed on hold.
Why the fuck was she stuttering?I turned, looking out the floor to ceiling window as I waited. Peyton’s office wasn’t far from mine, and I had a half a mind to just go there.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jameson. Peyton’s not available.” That was code for she didn’t want to speak with me. “Can I take a message?”
I groaned. “Have her call me.” I gave her my mobile number as well as the office number before disconnecting.
I went to the court’s website to see if she had any cases today. She didn’t. I decided to give her until the afternoon to call me, or I was going to show up at her office. IknewPeyton wouldn’t call me back, but I was going to give her until after lunch. In the meantime, I had Response papers to prepare for Trent.
