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I’m not respectful. I don’t open doors or send goodmorning texts. I fuck them rough and hard and make them come so many times they often pass out from the pleasure.
And the rate in which they come back for seconds and thirds and fourths does nothing but convince me that women don’t want the hero. They want the villain.
I take a step towards Olivia and begin to re-button the blouse that I’d torn open in my haste to get her pert nipples in my mouth. “You’d really say I forced myself on you? That I did something you didn’t want…that you didn’t beg for? That I initiated this whole thing?” I was a lot of things, but I’d never touch a woman who didn’t want it. This was just a bitch looking for a payout.
“I…”
Two raps on the door, followed by Preston walking through, stops her from speaking. His phone is glued to his ear, giving me a chance to take a long look at who follows him into the room: a petite, slender brunette that my dick responds to before my brain can even tell it to abort mission. My eyes trail up her body, long toned legs accentuated by pumps and a pair of perfectly tailored gray slacks that I briefly wonder what would look like on the floor of my office. A white silk blouse is tucked into her pants with a jacket that matches her pants over it. Her hair is pulled back off of her face, allowing me to see perfectly flawless, tanned skin and hazel eyes accentuated by thick-rimmed, square glasses. She looks like a fucking pinup girl. A sexy librarian.
No.
She looks like someone who shares Preston Mitchell’s DNA.
Fuck. Serena?
I blink away from her, grateful that Preston is still on the phone and unbeknownst to the fact that I was just ogling his oldest daughter. But then I remember there is someone else in the room, and the way she’s looking at me, it seems she has noticed.
Olivia tucks a hair behind her ear and raises an eyebrow full of judgment and, if my intuition is correct—which it usually is—a hint of jealousy as well. “Is there a reason you’re still here?” I narrow my gaze at her and she turns her face towards Preston to avoid further embarrassment, though I can see the flush creeping up her neck.
“Yes, I’ll be there in twenty.” I hear Preston end his call and turn to me and Olivia. “Miss Barrett?” He gives me a disapproving glare, masquerading as a joke. “Landon, what did I tell you about abusing my paralegals. You have your own.” He chuckles, though I can hear the nervousness in his voice. He’s going to chew you out, West.
She clears her throat and nods slightly. “Mr. Mitchell.”
“I left a few things on your desk for you. I’m due in court in twenty, do you think you have time to type a quick memo?” he asks her. That’s one thing about Preston Mitchell. He asks. I demand. He treats his interns the same way, and they are never prepared when they leave our firm. Mine, on the other hand, go on to take over the world with stellar recommendations from me. My last one, who just left for Stanford Law last week, emails me updates every two weeks. I can’t wait to hire her ass the second she gets out of law school.
Thank God, I didn’t fuck that one.
“Yes, of course, Mr. Mitchell. I’ll be right on it.” Olivia flees from the room as if she’s on fire and closes the door. Just as she does my best friend glares at me.
“I will fucking kill you,” Preston growls.
I hear a gasp from the corner of the room. A gasp under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have heard. But I am acutely aware of the gorgeous proverbial elephant in the room and I’ve made note of every movement she’s made since she’s walked through the door.
I swear to God, if she fiddles with her glasses just one more time.
“She’s the best paralegal I’ve ever had. Can’t you keep it in your pants for one goddamn minute!?” he snaps.
I’d met Serena Mitchell before. She was the older more reserved sister, very unlike her sister Skyler, who Preston is ready to go into an early grave over.
Thank God, I don’t have a daughter.
Although, I’d met Serena a few times in passing, I hadn’t remembered her looking quite like this.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Serena.” I take a few steps and reach for her hand. She swallows and touches her glasses again, pushing them further up her face.
“Mr. West.”
“Landon.” I give her a warm smile, probably the most genuine one I’m capable of. Not the one I use when I want in a woman’s panties, but the one I use when I’m talking to Griff, the boy who shares my DNA but also as of lately, hates my guts.
My heart squeezes slightly, the ice cracking in my chest as I think about my sixteen year old son who blames me for everything. A son who is currently dealing with the ramifications of a DUI, more than likely as a result of the divorce his mother and I are going through. A DUI that is also somehow my fault according to his mother.
“Would you mind if I spoke with your father for a moment, alone?”
Preston, who must have remembered that his daughter was in the room turns to look at her. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Rena, can you go wait in my office?” He winces, probably feeling horrible that his twenty-one year old daughter heard him swear. I swear he coddles the shit out of them both. Skyler is a firecracker who can take care of herself; I could see that the moment I met her, in addition to what her parents had told me. But this one: Serena. She is sensitive and innocent. And those wide bright eyes behind her glasses...
Fuck, they haven’t seen anything yet.
The need to shelter her from all the bad shit in the world comes at me in full force, and suddenly, I have a moment of clarity that rocks me to my core.
I am the bad shit in the world.
