Of course he did. He was a lawyer. He’d look out for his interests and leave Alex to fend for herself. I opened my mouth to tell her, but her next words stopped me.
“He also insisted that you be the one to draw it up. He said there’s no way you’d trust it to anyone else.”
Damn. He was good. I’d give him that. Even I couldn’t figure out how to argue with his plan, and I got paid an obscene—or justified, depending on how you looked at it—amount of money to argue. I opened my mouth and closed it again, unable to form a response.
“Oh God, your face,” said Alex, making a half-assed attempt at smothering a giggle.“I should have recorded this. Erik begged me to. He said it might be the only chance anyone ever got to see you tongue-tied.”
“Funny,” I said, regaining my capacity for speech.
“He also said it was a hard limit.” Her face took on that doe-eyed goofy expression she got whenever she talked about the man she’d fallen in love with. “We’re not children. We both know the odds. We’re going in with our eyes wide open. Besides, rules can be sexy. Limits make the pleasure that much sweeter.”
“Tell me you did not just turn your prenup into some kind of BDSM thing.”
Alex met her intended at a deposition that turned into a dare. My friend had cashed in on the popularity of tie me up/tie me down fuckery and started the Gentleman’s Submissive, helping ordinary men learn to dominate their partners. Erik was an intellectual property attorney and a self-proclaimed Dominant determined to shut down her business. It had all the makings of a legal disaster, not a great love story, but even my cynical heart couldn’t deny Alex was blissfully happy. Erik was too. Watching the two of them together would have been nauseating if it hadn’t been for the fact that he so clearly adored her. It’s the only reason I could even consider standing beside her as she legally tied her life to his.
“Okay.” I reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “I’m in.”
At least I’d be able to draft a contract that would keep her life from getting ripped to shreds in the likely event they split. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t do anything to protect her heart.
––––––––
WE SPENT THE next hour talking about dresses and venues and food. I might not have even the remnants of a bride gene left, but I could get behind a good party. If I thought of it that way, it wasn’t hard to stay interested in the details. Especially watching the way my friend’s face glowed. We’d been friends since I moved to the city and ran into her at a hot yoga class. She introduced herself afterward, said she did yoga so she could eat bread, and invited me to grab an oyster po’ boy. The bread was outstanding. The friendship was everything to me.
I’d always thought she was amazing, starting her business from scratch and then navigating the obviously complicated situations with clients, but the past few months while she’d been working on her book, she’d leveled up. It wasn’t that she’d grown because of Erik—or worse, in spite of him—it was more that loving him helped her clear away someof the obstacles she’d put in her own path. There was a rockstar career, a book tour, and a thousand other good things in her future. And she was clearly enjoying herself.
If I felt even a twinge of jealousy, it was over that. I was more than satisfied with my career. I’d worked my ass off to become one of the most sought-after divorce attorneys in New Orleans. Other people saw my Alice in Wonderland looks, assumed I was a “good girl,” and underestimated me at their peril. I ate the poor unfortunate souls for breakfast and picked my teeth with their bones. And I got my clients the settlements they deserved and a chance, if they were willing to take it, to rebuild after the destruction of divorce. I had a great deal of professional satisfaction in my life. If I didn’t have much of a social life outside my few friends, it was because there hadn’t been time. Adults prioritized. Work was my priority.
“Want to share a cab?” Meredith asked, dragging me back to the present.
I glanced around the bar, really noticing it for the first time. We’d been sitting there for over an hour but beyond the copper-clad tabletops, I hadn’t paid any attention to my surroundings. Dark wood paneling covered one wall and stone another. With the wine-colored carpet, it could have felt stuffy and dark. Kind of a dated gentleman’s club. Instead, it felt rich. Luxurious. Almost a study in materials and sensory details. The contemporary lines of the blown glass light fixtures and the slight patina on the tables made the whole place feel current without slipping to trendy.
Elena would do a better job describing it. I just knew I wasn’t quite ready to leave. Another drink while I actually paid attention to my surroundings felt like the perfect next step.
“You know, I think I’m going to stay a bit longer.”
Alex’s eyes flashed with an almost predatory look. “Do you want company?”
Meredith and Kindra were clearly worn out. Meredith went to work at the ass crack of dawn most days. Late nights weren’t her thing. Kindra gave so much to her clients. I knew she valued every moment she got to decompress. And the last thing I needed was Alex pushing me about the date with Erik’s friend that wasn’t going to happen. Elena would jump in just to up the pressure, and I’d be doomed.
“No, you guys go on. I’ll take the tab,” I said, handing the server my credit card despite my friends’ protests. “Could you move it to the bar, please?”
I could sit at the gorgeous wooden bar I was just now noticing, have one more cocktail and maybe expand my potential itch scratchers. Alex’s words about a “real live man” were still working their way around in the back of my head. I wasn’t sure if I wantedsomeone to smack my ass or not, and I was sure vibrators were a safer bet for orgasms and my heart. But there were some undeniably appealing things about actual men. The warmth of a strong hand on the small of my back bleeding through the silk of my blouse to my skin. The anticipation of that moment right before firm lips brushed mine, breathing in a new scent. Tasting. Touching. A hand fisted in my hair.
Fuck.
If only there was a way to get all of that without the emotional minefield of a relationship. It was a strong argument for legalized prostitution. I hired out almost everything else, so why not sex? An even exchange of all those delicious masculine things for money, orgasms all around, and when the climax fades, we both move on, happy with the deal.
Next time I saw her, I’d talk to Alex about that. With her work on power exchanges in relationships, she was bound to have thoughts. And if I convinced her that’s what I really wanted, she might give the blind date thing a rest.
I made my way past two couples, sitting at high-top tables near the bar. I’d bet money the couple on the left was on a first date. Too much nervous laughter and eager expressions for it to be anything else. The other couple were too busy with their phones to notice each other. I couldn’t have picked a better visual representation for the stages of love if I’d planned it. The expectantyou are the one who could be my worldbeginning to thewhy do we even botheraftermath. It lent credibility to my clear expectations/even exchange theory. Or maybe plan, not theory, if I worked it right.
Setting my clutch on the scarred wooden top, I slid onto an empty stool at the bar. I had a conflicted relationship with stools. I was short. You could call it petite, diminutive, or a dozen other words for short, but the reality was sitting on a stool made me feel a little like a child. The trade-off was that my stature made it easy for people to underestimate me, something I put to good use every chance I got.
Hooking my ankles to resist the temptation to swing my legs, I looked up and into dark eyes so intense I felt the breath catch in my throat.
“Evening, cher.” He pronounced itshawith theyataccent of someone whose family had lived in the city for generations.
Something about the way he said the casual endearment made my heartbeat pick up a notch, and I couldn’t decide if I was interested or annoyed. I paused for a second, considering, and waited for the obligatory “what can I get you,” which never came. Instead, he watched me for a second, holding my gaze until I actually had to fight to keep fromsquirming in my seat. What the fuck?
