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“That bad?”
He paused before responding. “There’s something going on. We need to meet and plan for the worst.”
I felt knots forming in my stomach. “Okay. Just let me know the time and place. I will be there.” We hung up after a short back and forth about Natasha’s recital and updates on his calendar for the next two weeks.
I sat in my favorite leather chair and looked out the window. I couldn’t focus. My headache was back and Peter’s cryptic call only meant one thing: trouble was coming. I still couldn’t find the cufflink and that caused me even more anxiety. My mind was preoccupied with whatever legal battle lay ahead and the fact that I was missing pockets of very valuable time surrounding the night Victoria had her accident. Was I involved in some way? The cufflink certainly suggested that. I was trying to remember something, anything when a faint knock on the door pulled me back. “Come in.” I was surprised to see Sam walk into my office.
She closed the door behind her and my mind immediately stopped processing anything related to my memory loss. After our encounter in the closet the day before, the sight of her was enough to arouse me. I was a bit harsh afterward but she quickly put me in my place. I hope she doesn’t want to talk about that. I would rather unbutton the low-cut blouse she was wearing and cup her soft breast in my hands. I was practically putting her soft supple nipples in my mouth mentally when she disclosed the reason for her visit. “Chris, I need a decision on the color of your master bedroom.”
“Oh, okay. Do you have any samples I can look at?” She quickly pulled out her laptop and sat on my fourteen-thousand-dollar Old Hickory Tannery couch. I moved from my favorite leather chair and sat beside her so I could see her computer screen that was now sitting on my ten-thousand-dollar Shahrooz coffee table that was in front of the leather couch. I assumed she had color choices already lined up to bore the shit out of me.
“I think these would be great. What do you think?”
I looked at the computer screen and tried my best not to succumb to her scent. I smelt Carolina Herrera’s Very Good Girl on her as soon as she entered the room. “I like the baby blue color.”
“That’s a really good choice. I think it will give you a serene calming space to relax in.”
I started to ask about what happened the day before in the closet but thought it better to not be the one that brought it up. I wanted her to stay longer so, instead, I asked more questions about her plans for the art room. She started going through ideas on her computer screen and I pulled closer so I could see. She must have touched my arm while positioning the screen because I felt my pants starting to tighten. I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. I moved closer to her; she was nicely nestled on the leather couch. I reached over and cupped her face, I had to taste her lips. We locked into each other's eyes before connecting in a soft but passionate kiss. I could feel myself getting aroused and if it weren’t for another knock on the door, I would have taken her right then and there on the couch.
I walked to the door, all too aware of my erection, and cracked it to see who it was. Brandon was standing with his ear to the door and when it opened, he was startled. “Sorry,” he said, obviously embarrassed, “I wasn’t sure if you were in here. I was coming in to get the signed documents for the Cole Energy merger.
“Oh yeah. We were just going over master bedroom colors. Come on in. It’s all ready to go.”
Brandon walked in and followed me to my desk; I gave him the envelope with the documents and he quickly exited with no other follow-up.
I walked back to the couch, hoping to continue, but Sam stood up abruptly. “Chris, I’m confused. One minute you’re into me and the next you act cold and distant. You’re sending me mixed signals. One minute you can’t keep your hands off me and the next you act cold and distant.”
I knew this was coming. “I’m sorry, I have so much on my plate right now. I am sure by now you’re aware that my wife passed away a few months ago in a car accident.” I could see the pity in her eyes.
“Yes, I heard.”
I continued, “Well life is still pretty weird for me and Natasha. I’m still trying to figure out what life is without my wife while trying to help my daughter heal. That’s the only reason for the renovations.”
She gently touched my arm as my head slumped from the thought of everything I was saying. “I get it but I think for now we should just keep our relationship professional.” Her words were like sharp needles piercing my ear. I wanted more despite my complicated situation. I also respected her for not wanting to deal with my bullshit. She forced a smile and started gathering her things. I cursed Brandon in the back of my head. If he had not interrupted, I’d probably be enjoying another pleasant encounter with Sam. I watched as she left my office, and my headache returned immediately.
The missing cufflink was now back at the forefront of my attention. I was trying to remember the last time I even wore the damn thing. They were a gift from Victoria, our first wedding anniversary. I had not worn them much these past two years, for no particular reason other than I just preferred something less flashy. I gathered my thoughts and headed to my Tesla to meet Peter at his office downtown. The drive gave me the downtime I needed to think about my next steps. I couldn’t wait any longer; I had to prepare for an investigation and I needed to get ahead of any surprises.
* * *
I pulledinto the parking lot of the prestigious law firm Gamble and Gamble. Peter was a senior partner with his now-retired dad. They have dominated the criminal defense market in Dallas for the last thirty years. If you needed to get ahead of any criminal proceedings, Gamble and Gamble was your only stop. I stepped out of the elevator on the seventeenth floor of the posh high-rise and was greeted by the receptionist. “Right this way, Mr. Brooks.” She led me back to Peter’s office and offered to get me something to drink before leaving the room. I was too nervous to take her up on her offer.
Peter’s office was fitting for an attorney of his caliber. The walls of his office were all bookshelves, filled with law books from God knows how long. His desk was made of solid oak and sprawled across a third of the room. There were no filing cabinets, just books. The floor was hard wood that was complicated by an oriental cashmere rug. His oversized leather chair swallowed his thin frame. Peter stood up when I entered, he was wearing a dark blue Armani custom made suit. It hugged his thin frame perfectly, his eyes were tired, I could tell from the dark circles and the wrinkles forming on his brow.
He put his glasses on and used his left hand to tame the little hair he had left on his head.
“Hey, brother.”
Peter sat back down, was reading through a packet on his desk, going through the information in the folder intently. “Hey, Chris, have a seat.”
“Okay, what’s the story?”
Peter looked up and I could see the worry in his eyes. “The police believe you were at the scene the night Victoria crashed. Based on the fact that you did not disclose that, they think there was foul play.”
My stomach sank for the third time today. “I am going to shoot straight with you—”
“That’s usually the best approach with your attorney,” Peter said with an eye roll.
“I have no idea what happened that night.”
