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Iflee from the room not wanting to be in that enclosed space with all that tension. Tension between my father and Landon West and whatever was leftover between Landon and that pretty paralegal. I could sense the frost in the air as I walked into the room and the way he avoided her gaze while she all but stared at him with stars in her eyes makes me wonder what happened between them before we entered. My father was on the phone, but I had noticed the awkwardness almost instantly. Was this Mr. West’s—er, Landon’s girlfriend? I remember reading in the firm policy that fraternization of any kind is strictly prohibited. No exceptions. And being a partner at the law firm, I have to assume that he abides by those rules, right?
But I certainly didn’t miss the way my skin tingled when I looked at him. Goosebumps shot up all over my arms and I had never been more grateful for the blazer covering my physiological reaction to this GQ model disguised as a lawyer. His perfectly angled jaw, that looked like it could cut glass, was covered with a smattering of dark stubble. His eyes were dark and brooding, with an icy tint,although they softened dramatically when they met mine. And when I met his gaze, he looked almost sad, and I felt the pull to hold him in my arms and remove that expression from his face. He was beautiful. The most beautiful man I’d ever seen, so I averted my gaze.
Because he isn’t mine to look at.
I walk down the long hallway, away from Landon’s office towards my father’s, my heels clicking against the dark, shiny hardwoods and echoing off the walls. I pass awards, accolades, and magazine and newspaper clippings hanging in gold frames acknowledging the “excellence” of the firm. I stop at the one right outside my father’s office that highlights a case he recently won. The Heart of Hartford, the article was titled. I beam with pride as I run my fingers over the picture that speaks of my father’s heartfelt closing remarks.
“So, you’re going to be helping out around here?” I turn and spot Olivia, the source of the voice that is laced with judgment and annoyance.
“Yes.” I nod and swallow hard, my nerves kicking into high gear as I can already tell this girl doesn’t like me very much. I’m far from shy when I’m in my own element, and right now, I am far from that. Besides, this is an adult. Like a real adult. Not the “I’m over twenty-one and while I can legally drink, I still need my mother to make my dentist appointments” type adult. No, this was the kind of adult that paid bills and taxes and wasn’t currently on their parents’ health insurance.
“I’m your father’s paralegal and, as someone who’s been here a while and seen quite a bit, can I give you some advice?”
With a 4.0 GPA and a double major in writing and rhetoric alongside my rigorous pre-law major, I know a rhetorical question when I hear it. I don’t bother responding; I simply blink at her, willing her to go on with her “advice” that more than likely is along the lines of “I don’t care who your daddy is, stay out of my way and keep your eyes off of my man.”
She looks me up and down and I take a moment to do the same. Her skirt is far too short, her top is a bit too tight, showing off a bit too much of her breasts that seem to be spilling out of the bra underneath. Her face is beautiful, pale skin with green eyes and luscious curly hair that has been pulled into a bun. Bright red lips accentuate perfectly straight, white teeth and high cheekbones fit for a magazine cover. With the exception of her somewhat unprofessional attire, she is quite beautiful. “The deli down the street has the best food, not to be confused with the one around the corner. They’re trash and I’ve gotten food poisoning there, twice. You would think that the first time I would have learned my lesson.” She shakes her head and stifles a chuckle. “I didn’t.” Definitely wasn’t expecting that. “The copy room on the third floor has the fastest copier in the whole building. Not everyone knows it though, so don’t spread it around.” She holds up a third finger. “I like my coffee…black.” She gives me a small smile, that I don’t exactly reciprocate because I take orders from my father or one of the partners, not a glorified assistant or whatever it is she really does. “It was worth a shot.” She shrugs. “Oh, and probably most importantly, because there has been quite the revolving door of women in and out of this office…don’t get mixed up with Landon West. You seem like a sweet girl, Mitchell, and he’ll just break your heart.”
Bingo.At least she had the decency to masquerade her real intentions under lunch recommendations and her Starbucks order.
I move into my father’s office to wait, as I assume he and Landon are still having it out down the hall. I set my bag down and smile as I look around the room that my mother and I helped design. My father has a corner office, and the floor to ceiling windows line two walls, giving the most gorgeous view of the New Haven skyline, and most importantly the beauty of Yale’s campus. A state of the art massive desk sits in front of the windows, as well as an ungodly expensive caramel leather chair that my mother and I had to force him to get. A leather couch of the same color and quality sits against the opposite wall, and I plop down on it to wait for him to arrive. From my seat, I can see the top of the Yale cathedral, a building with such stunning architecture that it almost convinced me to enroll.
My mind drifts back to the past three years of college, and I wonder how different it would have been had I gone to Yale, or perhaps lived on campus and not at home. I’m going into my senior year at the University of Connecticut and I’m more than excited to be finished with undergrad given that it seems that the undergraduate population has two things on their mind: partying and sex.
It’s gotten old.
My thoughts are interrupted by my father entering the room, his mood full of agitation, which was unusual. My father is rarely ever in a bad mood.
Preston Mitchell is tall, an attribute that completely skipped over my sister, Skyler, and me. Though I’m taller than her, I’m nowhere near the height of my father. Glasses that almost match mine sit perched on his straight nose and his curly, dirty-blonde hair—that has made more than a few people jokingly question if Skyler and I are really his children—is perfectly styled. A three-piece Armani suit makes him look like a model and, as I remember Landon’s similar style, I wonder if it’s a requirement for all lawyers here to look like they just stepped off the runway.
“I am so damn late.” I watch as he moves across the room and slams his finger on the phone, pressing a button. “Olivia, tell me you’re finished with that memo?”
“I just hit print, sir.” Her voice floods the room and I’m reminded of her warning to keep away from Landon.
“Perfect, I’ll be over there in two minutes.” He lets the button go and grabs a few things. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry about this morning. I feel terrible that I didn’t even go over anything with you yet. And that you had to hear that.” He shakes his head, and it’s times like this that I wonder if my father thinks I’m made of glass. Like I’ve never heard a swear word before. He wouldn’t think twice about it if I were Skyler. But he always has gotten along with her better.
“Dad, it’s fine. Can I go with you to court?”
“Not this time, Rena. Next time, I promise. This one is a closed hearing.” He presses a chaste kiss to my forehead. “You’ll be okay for a few hours? I’ll have Olivia and my assistant Valerie check in on you, alright?”
I feel the familiar tinge of disappointment as I realize that I won’t get to see a case up close and personal today. I smile, an attempt to hide my feelings, “Of course, I’ll be fine.” Good thing I brought my laptop. I have a paper due next week that could use ten or so more sources.
He’s gone without another word.
An hour later, there’s a knock on my father’s office door and while I expect it to be Valerie, who’d already come to see me twice to see if I was hungry, thirsty, and hungry again, I was shocked to see the source behind the knock was none other than Landon West.
“Your dad still in court?” he asks as he slips inside like he owns the room. His voice is low and steady and, for some strange reason, I feel my heart begin to accelerate. I’m sitting at my father’s desk behind my laptop, having grown tired of studying, and was currently researching Pinterest recipes to improve my eggplant parmesan. I quickly close my laptop and his lips turn upward slightly, a dimple popping out in full force. “You look guilty. Just what were you looking at?” He crosses the room and stands in front of my father’s desk, his hands crossed over his broad chest.
My cheeks flush red at having been caught fooling around on the company Wi-Fi. Could they see? My eyes flit from left to right and then to the ceiling in an attempt to spy a camera. “Homework.”
“I call BS. Pornography or illicit materials of any kind is prohibited on the firm’s servers, you know.” He lifts an eyebrow at me and sets his hands on the desk as he leans forward.
“I... I know. I mean I wasn’t...” I stammer. I bite my bottom lip and watch as dark eyes—that I can’t quite tell are brown or dark blue…or gray—drop to my mouth and darken to almost black. I feel like I’m having trouble breathing and I wonder if he can hear that my heart is about to pound out of my chest.
In a flash, the look in his eyes I’ve never seen before is gone and he takes a step back from his desk, probably remembering that I’m his partner’s daughter and talking to me about…pornography…is not appropriate.
I’d never even seen pornography, I wouldn’t even know where to look. Like…porn.com?
“I came in to check on you. Your father said you haven’t eaten. So, come.”
