My office—5 PM.
Now I have to justify why I should get my cases back. As if recovering from injury and having a romance writer shadow me wasn’t enough humiliation. The rest of the afternoon is spent reconstructing what I could of the Thornton case from memory and our digital files. By the time 5 PM rolls around, I’ve compiled enough evidence of William’s incompetence to make a solid case for reclaiming what’s mine.
I entermy condo and immediately kick off my heel, letting it fly across the entryway, and grimace when I look at the medical boot. The cool marble floor against my bare foot is the only pleasant sensation I’ve felt all day. The rest of my body thrums with frustrated energy as I make a beeline for the kitchen.
I stop in my living room, grabbing the remote to turn on some music. I need something to drown out the voice in my head telling me I’m losing my edge. Scrolling through my playlists, I select ‘Anger Management’—a collection of girl K-pop groups that are perfect for rage-cooking. As the first notes ofEVERGLOW’s‘Dun Dun’ blast through my apartment, I stomp toward my kitchen, medical boot thumping awkwardly against the floor. After a gruesome hour with Caleb, I wasn’t able to get my case back from William. I came well prepared and still fell short; now I’m stuck working alongside him on it. Utter bullshit. I need to ensure this case goes as smoothly as I’d planned before I went on a leave of absence.
My phone rings loudly, halting me in my tracks as I head back to my purse. Demi’s face fills the screen, her contact photo from a night when we both got spectacularly drunk and were forced into matching pink wigs. She’s probably only just getting around to reading my SOS text from this morning, which I sent in a moment of pure, unfiltered panic.
I brace myself, pause the music, and swipe to answer.
She doesn’t even give me time for a greeting. “He saw what?” bursts out at a pitch that rattles my eardrum. I consider holding the phone away from my head, but I never win these battles. “AND YOU DIDN’T LET HIM DEVOUR YOU RIGHT THERE? That man is God’s gift to the romance community. You knowthat, right? You have him within arm’s reach and you’re what, mortified? Minji, do you understand how many women would literally murder you to be in your position? Including me!”
“Hello to you too, Demetria,” I deadpan, but there’s no use. She’s already on a roll.
“Hey, girl, hey! Sorry it took me so long. You know I’m training for that new florist gig at The Beaufort? Turns out luxury hotels demand a lot more than ‘make it colorful and symmetrical,’ but whatever. Anyway, back to you. You’re telling me you got Aaron Singleton—like,theactual best-selling author—shadowing you, and you didn’t immediately text me live updates? I had to learn about your accidental striptease from a cryptic 8:43 AM text? Girl, if you ever have a brush with greatness again, you better call me before you even put your bra back on.”
“There won’t be a second time. Also, my bra was on.” I roll my eyes but can’t help laughing as I put the phone on speaker and head to the kitchen.
“First off, I barely know who this guy is. And yes, I should’ve locked the door,” I say, yanking open the fridge. “Who shows up that early anyway? Even if I did tell him to.” My hand hovers over the kimchi container before moving to the eggs. “Demi, is it weird that part of me… didn’t want him to look away?”
“Finally!” Her voice bounces off the kitchen tiles. “The ice queen thaws! Look, you’re hot-blooded like the rest of us. And after what you went through last year. You deserve to feel something good again.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” I mutter, filling the kettle with water.
“When’s the last time you went on a date? Had sex? Hell, flirted with someone who wasn’t opposing counsel?”
“I have a life.” The kettle slams onto the burner.
“You have case files and instant ramen,” she shoots back. “Remember college Mimi? The one who danced on bar tops andskinny-dipped in the fountain after finals? That girl knew how to live.”
Now she’s in full-on lecture mode. Demetria doesn’t even stop to breathe, painting a picture of my past self like she’s narrating a documentary on extinct species. I let her talk in circles for another five, maybe ten minutes, while I pour the hot water over my noodles. Hearing Demetria rant and rave about my life is nothing new.
“Hello? Earth to Minji?”
I blink at my phone. “I’m here.”
“Hear me out. The weekend is coming up, and I’d recommend reading his newest book,Sinful Love. The audiobook was released two days ago and fuck me three ways to Sunday. He does the voice for the male character, Baron—one word: eargasm. Two words: Fuck me. Three words: Fuck me now. Four words?—”
“Demi, please shut up.”
“Not the four words I was going to use, but nonetheless, listen to the audiobooks, please, I beg you. If that doesn’t convince you that being a muse for this man is an honor, I will give you my Birkin bag. And before you ask, yes, the black one you’ve been eyeing in my closet.”
I snatch up my phone quickly. “What was the name of the audiobook?Sinful Desires?” I open my Audible app.
“Sinful Love.” She chuckles.
That Birkin bag will be mine. I’ve been eyeing that bag for over a year now. She hasn’t used it once. It’s a shame to have such a beautiful bag and not put it to good use. Birkins were made to be worn, not shelved away to collect dust. I quickly addSinful Loveto my cart and click purchase before I can talk myself out of it. The smug satisfaction in Demi’s voice makes me want to hang up on her, but the thought of that Birkin keeps me on the line.
“I bought it,” I announce flatly. “But don’t think for a second this means I’m interested in him. This is purely transactional—your bag for my time.”
“Sure, babes. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Demi’s laughter floats through the speaker. “But speaking of sleeping, I bet you wouldn’t mind?—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” I warn, stirring my noodles. The steam rises to my face, a convenient excuse for the sudden warmth in my cheeks. “I’m only doing it for the bag.”
“For the bag. Right.”
“I don’t know why you sound like you don’t believe me.”
