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The man is utterly breathtaking. If he asks me to be his sex slave to pay for these legal fees, would I?
I’m thinking, hell yeah.
“Let me take you to lunch so we can discuss this further.”
Sexanda meal with this Adonis?Yes, please.
THREE
FORD
The taste of revenge teases my lips as I tell my assistant I’m taking this young, gorgeous, and curvy woman to lunch. Bernadette stirred my groin for the last thirty minutes, making me debate what I wanted more.
Food or her.
In the elevator, she coyly looks at her phone while I study her. Shoulders tensing and cheeks reddening suggest she feels my eyes on her.
Her scent and sweetness temper my irrational anger toward Pratt Sterling, the man prosecuting the ex’s case. My lust to ruin his career could be my downfall.
I’ve learned to control myself in every way. Especially in matters of lust and hate.
Love?
Pratt destroyed that for me.
No, he and I weren’t lovers.
He stole one from me.
I’ve avoided going against him in court in the past. The fantasy of beating him would give me a full-blown erection during opening and closing statements. I’m a towering beast with a massive cock I can’t hide in slacks when it gets hard.
Yet, fate brought this helpless, but courageous woman to my office, and now I’m feeling the strong call to battleagainst him.
I don’t like the idea of representing a white-collar, dirtbag who probably thought he was slick and wouldn’t get caught selling drugs. I defend plenty pieces of shit, but I stay away from drug dealers.
Bernadette’s smile feels like the sun on my face after weeks of cold and rain. Reminding me I still have a beating heart in my chest.
With her red hair, creamy skin, and big brown eyes, she’s a rare, classic beauty in a city swarmed with pretty faces attached to too-thin bodies that all seem alike. The sameness is nauseating.
Being a shark attorney allows me to spot con artists. And trust me, I see them in the chair in front of my desk all the time.
Bernadette’s genuine quality shines through. The poor woman looks shaken, drained, and terrified.
I’m going to help her, but as much as my bloodlust for revenge licks at my soul like flames, I can’t take her case for free.
I’m a Harvard lawyer who answers to a bunch of prick partners. New York City is crawling with Ivy League attorneys, and I must stick to the rules, or I won’t have a job that pays for my high-rise duplex, custom suits, fancy dinners, my club, and four-hundred-dollar haircuts.
I can’t take on any pro bono cases this quarter, either. The last case I freelanced nearly got me bounced out of the firm and black-balled on both coasts.
No, there’s not one decent lawyer in the city who will help her for free. Which means her piece-of-shit ex won’t ever give her back her property.
I know a way Bernadette could earn the money to pay my firm for my services. All on the up and up.
She lit up talking about being a fashion designer,and her shoulders slumped when she said that prick stole her drawings from her.
The asshole resorted to blackmail. Sounds like his getting arrested was karma, but he dragged Bernadette into his bad luck.
When I meet with him, he may wish he never asked for me.
