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“The best condos at midnight, Miss?”
“I thought our city never slept.”
“It doesn’t.” He smiled. “What’s your budget?”
“Six thousand max.”
“I’ll have to tell my daughter to go to law school then,” he said. “I drop off plenty of asshole suits all day, so I can show you quite a few—provided that you buy me breakfast.”
“Absolutely.”
He steered the car onto the street, and his eyes met mine in the mirror.
“Not to get into your business,” he said, “but I overheard you talking on the phone earlier about your last boyfriend being a cheating bastard who got caught stealing from your firm.”
“He was,” I said. “Were you offended by that?”
“Of course not.” He shrugged. “But since I overheard you say that he was your former coworker and you had suspicions before, I want to let you know that once someone reveals his asshole tendencies the first time, you should cut your losses. It’ll only be a matter of time before he does it again.”
I’m well aware of that fact. Trust me. “Thank you for the advice.”
“You’re more than welcome.”
A few hours later, I stepped into the final condo complex for the morning and immediately fell in love.
It was a luxury building on the backside of Central Park called The Barclays. At five thousand dollars a month, it was the most expensive unit I’d seen thus far, but it had everything I wanted.
Even a soundproof room.
“So, what do you think, Miss?” The building’s manager handed me a brochure. “Do you think this will work for you?”
“It more than works,” I said. “Can I take the application with me?”
“Sure, but—” She shrugged. “You work at Walsh and White. I would only need to run a background check and get three months of deposit in the form of a check.”
“Perfect. Can we do that, then?”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
She motioned for me to follow her into an office, and after three cups of coffee and a bag of bagels, I was holding the key and the lease to a unit on the top floor.
I walked through the space a few times and made a mental note to bring over what was left at my temporary place this evening.
As I walked through the spa center downstairs, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
My best guy friend. Sebastian.
“You’re up early this morning,” I answered. “Long night of marathon sex?”
“More like a long night of playing Dr. Phil,” he said. “The woman I picked up at the bar couldn’t stop talking about her ex. It’s not worth a recap, trust me. Where the hell are you?”
“Apartment hunting. I just signed the lease!”
“Are the cockroaches in this one included, or is the landlord making you pay extra?”
“Funny.” I rolled my eyes. “You know, I wouldn’t feel so rushed about finding a new place if a certain someone wasn’t kicking me out of his place at the end of this month.”
“I’m not kicking you out. I’m gently pushing you out of the door.”
“All because, let’s see, how did you put it? My moping over Brandon is holding you back from having more one night stands.”
“No, I said that you were starting to cramp my lifestyle.” There was a smile in his voice. “You’re making assumptions about what I meant, and I have no idea who Brandon is.”
“Thank you.” I stepped outside and hailed a cab. “Why are really up right now, Sebastian?”
“It’s a long, depressing story. Come down to my office the moment you get settled, okay?”
“Will do.”
“Oh, and wait. Did you see that your voice—I mean, “Chassie Claire’s voice,” was mentioned in The Eargasm Books Podcast this morning?”
I gasped. “You’re kidding.”
“I would never,” he said. “I’ll send you the link. See you at the office soon.”
Seconds after he ended the call, he sent me a text.
Sebastian: Sexiest female voice that I can’t get enough of! Link: www.eargasmpodcast.com
My heart fluttered as I read over the host’s transcript.
Unbeknownst to my coworkers, I narrated sexy audiobooks for indie romance authors whenever I wasn’t practicing the law.
From contemporary, new adult, to erotic—especially erotica, I lived different lives every week while lending my voice to different characters. And since I was currently in the middle of the longest dry spell ever, I tended to record all of the sex scenes first.
In a perfect world, I’d ditch Lady Justice for Lady One-Handed Reads, but I couldn’t bring myself to take the leap.
Not yet, anyway.
Even though I was making more money narrating than handling cases at this point, I couldn’t fathom turning my back on all the hard work I’d done over the years for a career with unknown longevity.
The indie romance world was an unpredictable ocean with too many ebbs and flows—too many waves and short-term trends that crashed and never recovered. I’d followed far too many authors who once had it all, but lost everything in the end.
The law, on the other hand, was safe and steady. There would always be those who need to be defended and protected, and there was never any danger of a market collapse.
