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How is she?
Rodney
Numb.
Wanting to get this over with, my hands lift toward my hair until I catch myself. The door opens, distracting me. Kennedy enters first, Rodney directly behind her. She looks stunning. Her modest navy-blue, long-sleeved wrap dress highlights all her curves. It’s a stark contrast to the baggy shit she has been wearing. The hemline ends just above her knee, and the neckline is scooped, showing just a hint of her collarbone. Her neutral-colored shoes have a severe heel height, causing my mind to drift. What would they feel like digging into my ass as I fuck her? All the blood in my body suddenly rushed to my dick, causing me to adjust myself in my suit pants.
Rodney catches the movement, raising an eyebrow in question that I pointedly ignore.
Continuing my inspection of Kennedy, her makeup is subtle. The only exception is her bright red lipstick. Now, thoughts of how that shade would look on my dick drift into my head before shaking the thought away. Now is not the time.
Ten minutes later, Rodney and Callum are ready to go. Checking that Kennedy has her identification, we make our way to the dorm lobby.
The amount of stares we earn as we walk, you would think these people have never seen anyone dressed up before. Thankfully, Kennedy is oblivious to all of it.
My father ordered a car, and predictably, a limousine sits idling at the curb. The driver is standing next to the back door, opening it as soon as he notices us approaching. Ashton gets in first, holding out a hand to help Kennedy. Once she is settled, Callum, Rodney, and I get in, the door closing behind us.
A bottle of champagne is chilling, with five flute glasses sitting with it. Rodney raises an eyebrow at me in question. I shrug my shoulders in response. He takes that as a sign of my acceptance and pops the cork, pouring each of us a glass.
* * *
As the car starts to slow down, I look out the window and see we have reached the courthouse. Mentally cursing myself at seeing Mr. Atwater and Dr. Delroy flanking my father. Hopefully, Kennedy doesn’t ask too many questions about their presence. Judging from the glares aimed at me from Callum and Ashton—they weren’t expecting their fathers either.
We approach the men after climbing from the car, and Kennedy’s entire body turns to stone, her footsteps halting. My hand touching her lower back has her jumping, caught off-guard. Urging her forward, I introduce her to my dad. She shakes his hand, then turns her attention to Mr. Atwater and Dr. Delroy. Before she can talk, Mr. Atwater raises his hand in a stop motion.
“Kennedy, let’s not talk about the accident today. You had nothing to do with it. It is nice to see you again. You are looking lovely.”
A blush appears on Kennedy’s cheeks as she looks at the ground. My father claps his hands together, causing her head to pop back up.
“Let’s go see Judge Peters, shall we?” he asks.
My father’s tone is upbeat as he turns on his heel, leading our group inside and up to the judge’s chambers on the seventh floor. The judge’s aide informs us that Judge Peters is on a phone call and asks us to wait.
Watching Kennedy, flanked by Ashton and Callum, she is withdrawn and exceptionally quiet. Ashton whispers something in her ear. Kennedy’s only response to him is the barest of nods.
A few minutes pass before we are escorted into the judge’s office. Taking in the large office, degrees and accolades decorate one wall. Being a law student, doing anything other than joining my father’s firm never crossed my mind. It is something to consider.
My father calling my name brings me back to the present as he introduces me to his Honor. As we finish shaking hands, I extend my arm out, calling to Kennedy.
“Your Honor, this is Kennedy Boden—excuse me, Ainsworth. She has been using her mother’s maiden name at school. No doubt my father has already updated you on the situation,” I say, keeping my tone respective.
Glossing over the details, my eyes drift to Kennedy, but she seems lost in her own head, not paying us much attention.
We finish introductions, and Judge Peters takes a packet of paperwork from my father. Few people know they are golfing buddies. Kennedy and I stand next to each other in front of the desk as Judge Peters flips through the papers from my father. Callum, Ashton, and Rodney are standing to Kennedy’s left. My father, Mr. Atwater, and Dr. Delroy stand to my right.
Seeing Kennedy’s ripe ass as she bends over to sign the paperwork is causing a problem in my pants. Since we have been forcing her to eat, she’s started filling in spots that were lacking when she first showed up on campus.
“Kennedy Ainsworth, you willing enter into this contract with Mr. Worthington of your own free will?”
Kennedy’s voice sounds like a whisper.
“I do.”
Judge Peters's booming voice overwhelms the small room, used to projecting while in court. I resist the urge to stick my finger in my ears; he’s that loud.
“Do you, Kennedy Ainsworth, agree that Mr. Worthington represents you in all legal matters?”
“I do.”
