“All right,” he drags. I can tell he’s not following. How can he? This conversation is the equivalent to pulling teeth. “I’m no attorney, but I think it’s safe to say that it’s not a big deal if your paralegal is your sister’s best friend.”
“I’m not too sure about that.”
He leans over the bar to pay my shoulder. “Oh, come on, don’t be so… you. It’s not like you fucked her.”
Dante flashes me a grin that when I don’t return gives me up in seconds.
“Oh shit.” He flips the baseball cap on his head backwards as if to help him concentrate better.
“Oh shit, is right.” I don’t bother correcting him. I may not have fucked her, but we hooked up. My head hangs between my hands. “I fucked up. Big time. Ever since the scandal that firm had a couple years back with one of the founder’s sons, they have a strict no fraternizing policy. And that’s not even the worst of it. You remember that dick I had a meeting with, that made me fly out to Colorado just so he could have his business associate tell me in person he won’t be attending?”
Dante nods.
“She’s his daughter.”
“Eek,” Dante murmurs.
“Yeah,” I huff. “It happened the night I went to Luxe, I–”
Flashes of that evening fill my memory. The mirrored room. The way she sat so perfectly on my face. How good she tasted. The memento I selfishly kept from that evening. Thelacymemento.
Shit.
Panicked, I grab my phone, swiping like a madman through the group chat.
Please don’t still be there.
“Fuck!” I exclaim, dropping my phone, yet all I see is the G-string in the corner of my eye taunting me.
Dante picks up my phone.
“Give me it.” I try to reach for my phone, but he pulls back.
“Hold up, was that Sarina’s underwear?”
I scoff. “Underwear? You sound like an old man. It’s a G-string,” I correct him, not sure why that distinction matters.
“Whatever. That must have made for an interesting morning at the office today.”
“You have no idea.”
“Does Lo know?”
“Not unless Sarina told her, which I doubt.”
“Well, in that case, you’re free to work here as often as you need.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, at least it’s temporary.”
“What is?”
“The paralegal position,” Dante reminds me.
“Right.”
Temporary.
