I look at the files stacked on my desk, trying to refocus my attention, but my thoughts drift to tonight. To Nash. To the way he makes me feel when I’m with him.
My phone buzzes, and I reach for it, hoping it’s a text from him.
But it’s not.
James
I have an important matter to discuss with you. I’m in meetings all day. Be in my office at 5PM.
He cannot be fucking serious.
If it’s another case that’s already set for trial, I might throw a file at his head.
If he didn’t like my attitude the other night, that cockblock has another thing coming for this next meeting.
I’m tempted to tell him I’m too busy. That I have plans because I actually have a life outside of work, or at least I’m trying to.
No thanks to him.
But I can’t. The guilt I’d feel would distract me from all the things I want to do with Nash tonight. So I’ll go to his office at five like he asked, wearing my fakest smile.
I type out a quick text to Nash.
5PM meeting. Might have to raincheck tonight. I’ll let you know.
I watch him read the text, his shoulders slumping before he leans back in his chair, sighing a deep breath. He starts typing, and I wait for his text to come in.
Trouble
I’ll wait up all night if I have to.
I smile at his words, a cascade of warm feelings rushing through me, and then look over to where he sits, already finding him looking at me. His gaze is soft and certain, and as soon as our eyes meet, he winks, sending another flutter through my chest before turning back to his work.
I throw myself into my work, the hours slipping by as I try to meet the demands of every case I’ve been assigned.
The day passes in a blur of distraction and anticipation, and before I know it, it’s five o’clock. The office is eerily quiet as everyone else has already gone home. I gather my things and make my way to James’s office, determined to keep this meeting short.
Chapter 14
“You wanted to see me?” I ask, pushing his office door open and stepping inside.
He lifts his gaze from his computer and leans back in his chair.
Motioning to the chairs on the other side of his desk, he says, “Have a seat, Anders.”
I trudge over to the chair, setting my bag down on the floor and look back to him, folding my hands in my lap.
The look on his face is stern as he dives right into this meeting’s topic.
“As you should be aware from the HR guidelines that were attached to your employment contract, office relationships are not allowed between attorneys and their subordinate team members.”
He watches me, eyes narrowed, trying to gauge my reaction. I must look absolutely dumbfounded because that was not at all what I expected him to say.
Then it hits me. His words from the other night.
“Seeing you come into work every day in your tight little skirts and blush at everything your fucking paralegal says is a punishment.”
He’s been watching us. I already knew that, but that doesn’t mean that heknowsthere’s something going on between me and Nash. He’s still watching me, even now, squirming under the pressure of his words. I have to say something.
