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She better be worth the money and the costly fee of the hefty billable hours, and more, as this lawsuit could cost me everything. I may be a suit, a fucking rich one at that, but at the root of it all, I’m a man with a great love for the outdoors and our natural resources. Our elimination process is flawless; if one of the Great Lakes was polluted, it wasn’t by us.
I’ve had my suspicions, and it’s one of the most significant pieces of the puzzle I need help solving. With this so-called expert in environmental law, I have hope. I don’t rely on hope often because I make my own future. I have since the day my trust fund was transferred to me.
It's arrogant and makes me sound like an asshole. Most call it a handout, but with my money, I've attempted to do something that will make a difference in this world.
Harry’s the first one I see, the ornery old shit, but he’s loyal. Lead counsel for my company and my right-hand man in all the legal battles. This type of law is truly out of his domain. His face is tight, searing in on me and giving a head jut toward the paralegal who is currently blocking the view of our new lawyer. I keep my eyes trained. It’s when the one employee who doesn’t belong to me moves, and my attention reverts to the beauty with golden locks dropping below her cleavage. Cleavage I’m all too familiar with.
Shaelyn, my personal assistant, pushes from her perch on the chair and barrels toward me. “Mr. De Santos, can I grab your coat and briefcase?”
I don’t answer and walk around her, staring at the beauty who hasn’t seen me yet. “Give us the room, please.”
“Sir?” Harry asks, with an uncertain tone in his one-word question and confusion falling from his wrinkly face.
“You heard me, I said everyone, clear the fucking room.”
This gets my staff’s attention and that of the vanishing Houdini from the weekend. The beautiful woman hasn’t looked up from her fucking phone, not until she hears how I address my staff.
She snaps her head up, a gaze and a fight ready to be had on her end, until recognition sparks in her green eyes, the same ones I dreamt about last night as I fell asleep.
“Excuse me.” Her voice carries, trying to stop me. She knows who I am. There’s no denying the realization in her eyes. I’m good at everything I do, and reading people is undoubtedly one of them. I wait for the last person to exit the door and close it, shutting the blinds to the walkway on the other side of her windows.
“Nope,” I begin with a demand, “you disappeared once. You’ll sit your fine ass down and explain why you left without as much as a goodbye.”
I conduct my personal life as I do my professional life. Everything is a transaction, and I hold control, and in this instance, I’m not letting this tall blonde bombshell with legs for days take the upper hand. I understood when I bound her arms and fucked her like the world was on fire and that it may end the next day, she isn’t a born sub. It could be why I trusted fate and didn’t bother my cousin to ask his new wife for her phone number.
But fate has shown me there’s more to learn and experience with this beauty who looks like she may want to take my head off.
“You don’t have the right to waltz into my office, regardless of our past, and swear at our employees in my presence, Mr. De Santos.”
I let the typical cocky smirk that gets me lots of tail in my lifestyle radiate from my pearly whites and let out a slight chuckle.
“Oh, Heaven, you think you can tell me how to conduct myself? Yeah, mightier men have tried and failed, baby girl, so good luck with that.” I sit back, cross my legs, and grab my coffee. I take a sip, and it’s not the blend I require at my office, but it’s not bad. “Tell me, Heaven, why did you leave so abruptly? I woke up, wanting more from you. And you may not know this yet, but I typically get what I want.”
She lets me see a slight smirk, her eyes turning from green to gray in her attempt to pull the upper hand in this conversation.
“Obviously, you don’t always get your way, Mr. De Santos, since I left you to wake with just your hand to pleasure you in the morning.”
She pushes to her feet, helping herself to her tray of coffee and tea. I stifle a laugh when she grabs a tea bag and steeps it in hot water. “Should have known you were a tea drinker.”
“And why is that?” she asks.
“Just a hunch,” I answer. “Maybe coffee leaves a bad taste in your mouth.”
She pulls out the tea bag, drops it on the tray, and pours milk into her cup. “You leave a sour taste in my mouth, Mr. De Santos, for not arriving on time, cursing at your staff, and talking to me as if you were the best night of my life. And for the record, you weren’t.”
She sits upright in a chair in front of her desk, pushing back where I watch her every move, as she crosses her legs at her knees.
“I highly doubt that because you, Heaven, were begging for more.”
She stands again, and I swear this woman is like a ping-pong machine, constantly jumping up, away from my gaze. Still, I can’t help but notice how her brown form-fitting dress hugs the curves I’ll never forget.
She’s now at the other side of her desk, bending over, and begins writing something on a piece of paper. She crosses the room, extends out her hand to give it to me, and then lets it fall to the floor when I don’t take it.
She stands still with her arms folded over her chest. Why cover something I’ve already seen, tasted, and licked? But I know this power play. She adopts both a hard smile and a challenging tone. “Take it or don’t. I really could care less. The name is a colleague of mine who works at our firm on the other end of town. He’s as capable of handling your case as I am. His record speaks for itself.”
I lean over to pick up the note and glance at the name on her stationery. Norwhich Guylin. What sort of fucking name is that? And as I look at the partners listed at the top, he isn’t one of them.
“And why the fuck do I want this Norwhich Guylin? What a fucking name, poor guy. I want you.” I lower my pitch, faintly familiar to when we first met. “And let me make this crystal clear, I want you as my lawyer, but also as mine, and only mine. I still remember how you taste, and the way you called my name when I pushed into your tight pussy.” I pause, schooling Anisten’s features, and she doesn’t crack under pressure. She smooths her skirt and clears her throat, visibly unaffected by my words. But I bet her body isn’t. I can’t prove it, but it’s a hunch. “By the way, I don’t get told no, often, and I won’t accept it from you. Be ready tomorrow at eight p.m., and we’ll start discussing strategy over a dinner meeting.”
