“Hi. You’re the writer, right?” Her voice is bright, her inflection ending on a note of genuine excitement. “I’m sorry to bother you. Are you Aaron Singleton?”
I blink, then nod. “Yeah. That’s me.”
She beams, her cheeks dimpling. “I love your books. My friend got me hooked on theDesiresseries. I’ve read every single one, like, twice.”
A slow grin tugs at my mouth, only partially because I’m still mortified about this morning. “That’s awesome. You have great taste.”
She laughs, tucking a curl behind her ear. “I’m Katia, by the way. Sorry if you caught us talking about you. It’s not every day we get a best-selling author in the office.”
I finally close my laptop, giving her my full attention. “I can only hope I wasn’t the subject of too much gossip.”
Katia pretends to zip her lips. “Only the good kind. Promise.” She glances toward Minji’s door. “Does she know that you are here?”
“She does.” I gather my things, calling it a day. It’s best to just leave Minji alone for now. I saw her in a compromising position.If there’s one thing I know about the opposite sex, it’s that you need to give them space until they’re ready. “When she does emerge from her cave, let her know I went home for the day. I’ll be back in two days.”
“Two days? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thank you for asking. It was nice to meet you. If you don’t mind, could you please pass my message along?”
“Sure thing.” She beams.
“Thank you, have a good day.” I can go home to write in the comfort of my office. As I walk by, Minji’s office door is still closed, and I can hear her talking on the phone. Damn, this woman is not going to make this easy.
I hope this will all be behind us and we can start anew when I return to the office. Minji doesn’t seem like the type to hold a grudge, but then again, the woman is a fucking fortress, so I could be dead wrong. I wouldn’t be surprised if she does hit me with a lawsuit, just for the fucking fun of it.
CHAPTER 4
MINJI
There isa knock on my door, and I pray that it’s not Aaron. I don’t think I can even stomach looking at him after the humiliation of this morning. All I want to do is crawl under my desk and die. Instead, I straighten my back and call out, “Come in.”
Katia peeks her head in. “Minji, Aaron told me to let you know he’s gone home for the day. He’ll be back in two days.”
“Thank you, Katia.”
“He seemed… I don’t know, a bit annoyed, maybe upset?” she adds, lingering in the doorway. I know she’s fishing for office gossip, which she won’t be getting from me. And why would Aaron be upset? He wasn’t the one exposed. He didn’t have his breasts on display. The nerve of men at times.It’s the audacity for me.
“Is there anything else?” I ask, my tone making it clear the conversation is over.
She shakes her head as she retreats, “Nope, nothing else.” She closes the door behind her.
I sink further into my chair, finally allowing my shoulders to slump. Two days of having my office to myself. Thank heavens. I’ve faced billionaires, celebrities, and ruthless opposing counselwithout breaking a sweat, but one romance writer catches me in my bra, and I’m suddenly freaking out. Maybe it’s because I can’t quite put my finger on where I know him from. It’s going to bug me until I find out.
I open his website on my laptop and look at his smiling face on the ‘About Me’ page. Aaron Singleton has perfect teeth, smooth brown skin, and hazel eyes that seem to see right through you, even in photos. I notice he went to Columbia University, just like me… could it be? No, that guy wanted to be a chemist; there’s no way he switched to something as silly as being a romance writer. If only I knewthatAaron’s last name from college. Damn, I should never have deleted my Facebook; this would be a perfect time to have it. I keep scrolling through his long list of NYT bestsellers and check the ‘personal life’ section, which reveals nothing.
I mean I can always ask him, but how awkward that would be especially if I never slept with him. I close out the tab and press the heels of my hands to my face. I pray it’s not that Aaron. He’ll be out of the office for two days so I guess I can do some research if I’m right. Maybe even check the alumni records—if it’s him, that should be enough. I make a note on my legal pad.Ask Aaron about Columbia?Then immediately cross it out. If I’m mistaken… Well, I’ll look like the egomaniac who assumes every man is someone she once rejected.
And if it is? What then? I pick up my phone to call Demi, but then I can picture her reaction now, eyes wide and she’ll probably spew nonsense about how this is destiny, fate or some shit along those lines. I’ll tell her later when I’m mentally prepared.
I force myself back to my task list for the Hui-Wang case, but my concentration is shot. Every time I try to review the discovery schedule, my brain conjures up that same stupid question. The pull is magnetic and masochistic; now that I’ve considered thepossibility, I will never unknow it. I check the time—almost lunch. I should probably try to eat something, but I’d rather work through to keep my thoughts from spiraling.
A chime pulls me out of my spiral. It’s an email from Caleb, reminding me that Aaron’s ‘shadow period’ is non-negotiable and that I should make the most of it by ‘demonstrating our best professional practices.’ In other words, don’t scare away their little celebrity pet. I refrain from slamming my keyboard on the desk. Instead, I type a passive-aggressive reply, “Thanks for the reminder, I will make sure Mr. Singleton is fully briefed on our firm’s procedures,” and hit send before I can regret it.
Everyone sees me as a weapon. But what happens when someone starts to see you as a character? Emotions will come into play—emotions I buried so deep after my breakup last year. I still feel an overwhelming sense of rage when I think back to that relationship. My ex and I had been together for two years, and I thought things were moving in the right direction, toward something permanent. Two years together, and all I got was a Fourth of July fireworks show where he detonated our relationship while red and blue explosions lit up the sky behind us. “We’re just not compatible anymore,” he’d said, voice barely audible over the celebration. The irony of America’s Independence Day wasn’t lost on me. A week later came the truth: there hadn’t been just one woman. There’d been several, and I never saw it coming.
My office door swings open without warning. I look up to find William standing in the threshold, his bow tie perfectly centered on his throat like a bullseye.
“Minji, I was hoping to discuss the Thornton case with you.” He clears his throat, fingers rising to adjust the bow tie that’s already straight.
