Brent laughs, rough and short. “You ever see yourself, Marnie? You’re a beautiful sassy blonde who’s filled with fire, sweetheart. You walk into a room like you’re challenging the floor to fight you. You don’t take shit from anyone, not even when you should.”
James grins. “You scared the hell out of us, actually. Every other paralegal tried to impress us, or flatter, or fuck their way to a better assignment. You just wanted answers, and you were feisty, feminine and driven. And you didn’t care if it ruined us.”
Brent picks it up. “We tried to scare you off. We tried to tempt you. None of it worked.”
“You were intrigued,” I say, the realization dawning.
James nods. “Over our heads, even. We never expected you to play by the rules, but you did, and you were fucking fantastic, sweetheart. Better than our wildest dreams.”
A flush creeps up my neck, half embarrassment, half pride. “Is this where you tell me I’m special?”
Brent's smile is almost gentle. “You’re the first woman we’ve ever met who made us feel like we might actually be okay. We’re not the good guys, don’t get me wrong. Assholes like us don’t deserve that moniker. But do we try to do the right thing sometimes? Yeah.”
I don’t know what to do with the information, so I just sit there, blinking hard. Brent and Jamesaregood guys, that’s the thing. They’ve always been on my dad’s side, and they’ve always known that something went way off course in Stanley’s case. They bargained for my body because I was sweet, sharp, and utterly irresistible. It sounds so twisted, and yet I’m flattered at their attraction. I played their depraved game, and all of us enjoyed it, to be frank.
Eventually, I gather my things. The folder goes in my tote, nestled between the wallet and the lipstick and the granola bar I never ate yesterday. I look around, trying to figure out what happens now. Is there a script for this? A protocol for morning-after negotiations between two lawyers and the woman who just blew up their whole world?
James stands and moves in, not quite touching me, but close enough that I can smell the coffee on his breath. “You don’t have to leave, sweetheart. Again, stay if you want.”
Brent comes up behind me, a comfortable bracket, the edge taken off his arrogance. “Or you can. We won’t stop you. But if you want?—”
James: “We’d like to see you again.”
Brent: “No deals. No bargains. Just… us.”
It’s my move, and for once, I don’t hesitate.
“I want that, too,” I say, and my voice is steady.
The three of us stand there, uncertain but not afraid, the city sprawling in all directions, new and unscripted.
I look at the men who, until yesterday, I thought were my enemies. They look at me not as a pawn or a threat, but as a partner in something neither of us has a name for yet.
“Next weekend?” I ask, as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.
James beams. “Absolutely.”
Brent just nods, a small, private smile on his face.
And as I step into the living room to gather my discarded clothes, sunlight on my hair, evidence in my bag, I realize the deal I made was only the beginning.
For the first time in my life, I’m exactly where I want to be.
12
CHAPTER TWELVE — CONFERENCE ROOM SHENANIGANS
Brent
The conference room is fucking freezing, even at eight in the morning, and it’s always been this way because it’s HR’s way of ensuring nobody lingers a second longer than needed. Our little Glass Room of Truth, every inch monitored, every cough and fidget logged for eternity. But this morning it’s not the temperature that sends a chill down my arms. It’s Marnie Williams, walking in like she’s storming the Bastille, a vision in blue silk with hair up in a severe bun and those legs, fuck, legs that would make a bishop renounce his faith. Her face is unreadable except for the flush on her cheekbones, and the only hint of what happened two nights ago is the limp she tries—unsuccessfully—to hide.
She notices me in the first second, then looks away, and the burn of her gaze lingers on my skin. I see the way her nipples strains at the buttons, how she’s doubled down on the heels (taller, pointier, a challenge), and how she pointedly ignores James as he strides in with that shit-eating “I own this joint” smirk.You wouldn’t guess from the way she’s sitting, straight-backed and crisp, that this woman spent Saturday night screaming our names, big breasts bouncing, plugged full with two dicks, one crammed in her ass, and the other in her pussy. I know James is thinking the same thing too, judging from the shit-eating smirk on his face.
Marnie’s professional to the core, but I catch her stealing glances in my direction, the little flick of her lashes when she thinks nobody’s watching. I could chart the pulse in her throat from here, and when she shifts in her chair, I know she’s remembering every inch of what happened. Hell, I am too. The scent of her sweat, the gasps she makes when you hit just the right spot, the almost unhinged way she sobbed as we wrecked her between us—yeah, all of that’s carved on the inside of my skull, permanently.
The meeting is a slow-motion car crash. James runs through numbers and client lists, but his eyes slide off the screen every few seconds and track to Marnie. He’s not even subtle, the bastard. Meanwhile, I’m trying to focus, but all I can think about is the color of her nipples and whether she wore the garter again today. My mind short-circuits when she shifts in her chair and her skirt rides up half an inch. It’s like a fever that has no cure.
At one point, the conversation goes quiet and everyone in the room is just sort of lost, waiting for something to break. Jenkins, the office administrator, coughs twice and glares at Marnie with the cold, careful suspicion she reserves for all young women in the building, but Marnie just smiles sweetly, and goes back to her notepad. A new paralegal, whose name I’ve already forgotten, fumbles a question and drops his pen, which clatters under the table and lands between Marnie’s feet. She looks down, meets my eye across the table, and for one molten second,the whole world is just us and the memory of what my hands did to her Saturday night.
