Page 45 of At His Beck & Call

Warren’s office is at the other end of the hallway and the polar opposite of mine. Unlike most lawyers I know, he enjoys a minimalist approach to things and doesn’t have any books to speak of. His office looks like the kind of place a serial killer would enjoy, white walls and harsh lighting.

I hate the way it feels, and I make any excuse to avoid having to go and see him if I can.

“Have you actually read all of these?” Warren asks, as if he isn’t looking at books we all read as junior lawyers.

“Yes,” I say stiffly, aware that I shouldn’t humor him, but I want him out of my office as quickly as possible. “They’re mandatory.”

“You’re kind of uptight, you know that?” he says, twisting with a little grin on his face.

I look up at him. “Yes, I’m aware,” I say without inflection, and he chuckles.

“I just wanted to come by and see how you’re doing. I haven’t seen you in a while. Congrats on the Reynolds case, by the way, Iknow that has to be a big-ticket item for the EP race. We’re neck and neck, apparently,” he says, turning to face me, “or so I hear.”

“And who did you hear that from?” I ask, my voice carefully level.

“Oh, a lot of people. But Burt and I went out last weekend with the fam, so it’s pretty much all he talked about. He thinks very highly of you.”

I have never, in all my years with this firm, heard anyone called Thomas Burton “Burt”.

This guy is such a pretentious dick.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” I say. There’s a soft clink from the bathroom, and I stiffen visibly, but Warren seems too wrapped up in himself to notice.

“Look, I don’t want this to be a head-on competition,” he continues. “I know I’m ancient compared to you, but we’re pretty evenly matched in terms of knowledge and talent.”

You wish, asshole.

I incline my head, preferring not to speak, my whole body on edge. If Lissa comes out of the bathroom now, I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do so I lean forward, keeping him distracted for as long as possible.

“Did Burton offer Reynolds to you?” I ask, my fingers tightening around the pen in my hand. It’s one my mother gave me, a really nice fountain pen to go with my collection, and it creaks in my grip.

“No. He knows I’m full on with the Harrington case right now,” Sutcliffe says, picking up one of the bronze ornaments and examining it.

A pulsing headache has started, and it’s throbbing at my temples. This is blatant favoritism at its worst, and it makes me see red.

Harrington’s is a money pit of a case that has been rumbling on for years, and after speaking to one of the senior partners,I learned it isn’t taking any of his time because Warren has delegated everything to his junior team.

I lay the pen carefully down beside me before I snap it in two.

“Anyway, I wanted to invite you to lunch next week,” Warren continues. “There’s no reason we have to be enemies, is there? We’re both grown men, even if some of us are a little longer in the tooth than others,” he says with a grin. “When are you going to settle down, anyway? Are you seeing anyone special?”

No, but there’s a half-naked someone ten feet from you that gave me the best head of my life just now.

“Not at the moment, no.”

“Shame,” he says, smirking at me. “My wife has a great friend who’s single if you’re interested.”

“I appreciate the thought, Warren. I’ll think about it.”

“You do that,” he says, his eyes lingering on my face as I think about the rumors that Warren wasn’t exclusively into women when he was younger. “You’re a handsome dude, Heath. You should really own it more.”

“Uh… thanks?” I say with thinly veiled contempt.

He cackles cheerfully to himself, saluting me as he turns around and heads out of the office again.

I breathe out slowly for several seconds, then rise and close and lock the door again. I head to the hidden bathroom door and knock. Lissa opens it, looking terrified, her bra on full display since she has no buttons on her shirt, thanks to me.

“Sorry about that, Warren Sutcliffe thinks closed doors don’t apply to him.”