Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
After a busy subway ride, I arrive at work and quickly surmise that Reese is in court and Maria is crazy busy preparing emergency documents he needs for some other case. The day is fast-paced, and pure insanity. I interview two candidates for Cole’s secretary by noon with no success. I eat lunch at Cole’s conference table, wishing I knew how Houston was going for him.
My two o’clock interview is also a bust. Three candidates for Cole, and I choose none of them. I hate them all. At three o’clock, I’m out of time. “What do I do, Maria? He needs someone here Monday morning.”
Her brilliant advice that isn’t brilliant at all, is, “Bring the best of them in and hope for the best.”
I reject that idea and head back to Cole’s office, where I call the temp service. I end the call with three interviews lined up for Monday morning.
I disconnect the call and resist the urge to call Cole, or at least text him for an update. It’s my second day. I don’t have a right to be asking for updates on Houston. Instead, I get to work on the rest of my “to do” list, memorizing attendees of the party and analyzing cases that all feel wrong for Cole. I exchange calls with my mother, say goodnight to Maria, and somehow it’s nine o’clock and there is nothing from Cole.
I’m back on my bed working, with a salad this time, when my cell phone rings and it’s him. “Hey,” I answer.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, and his voice is too weary for me to object to the “sweetheart.” I’d like it if it wasn’t highly inappropriate. If I was ready to live the boss fantasy, but I’m not. “It’s been a hell of a day,” he adds, “but I’m finally on a plane about to take off.”
“Did it work out?”
“It did,” he says, “but I had to climb mountains and hang from a few cliffs. The problem with Houston is there’s a lot of my father’s narrow view left behind.”
“You took over for your father?”
“I was voted into control when he died, but together he and I had controlling interest anyway.”
“That sounds concerning,” I say. “If that mentality still exists, won’t this problem happen again?”
“Not if I’m there a couple times a month, which at this point is a necessity. Reese and I are meeting in the morning to plan pulling as much of the Houston branch into New York as we can. Did you find me a secretary?”
“Yes. Me. I hated all of the candidates. I have three more coming in Monday, but I just couldn’t stick the wrong person in that role.”
“Now you know why I don’t have a secretary. My assistant couldn’t find a replacement, and neither could I.”
“Well, I hate to tell you this,” I say. “But I’m failing on all fronts. I’ve got case files all over my bed right now and I’ve been digging through them for two days. None feel like something worthy of you. They just don’t feel like you.”
The engine roars in the background. “I have to hang up and just when this was going to get interesting. I was going to ask you what feels like me. Get some rest, and Lori?”
“Yes?”
“I wouldn’t take any of those cases. I already looked at them. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hangs up.
I’d call him an asshole for testing me like that, only he’s my mentor and teacher, so it’s his job to test me. As to how I’d answer that question—what does Cole feel like? Trouble. The kind prosecutors he opposes hate. The kind that makes me want to do everything I’ve already done with him and add a few extras: like lick every inch of his body—just once.
Yep, I think. He’s trouble and considering the fact that I just had the “I’m my own Cinderella story” talk with myself this very morning, and I’m already contemplating where to lick him again, I’m in trouble. Especially since no is always easier on the phone, which of course is why he waited to negotiate rules in person.
And if I’m honest with myself, he knows, and I know I didn’t object. That’s as good as giving a man like Cole Brooks a ticket that reads “no rules, please spank me again” and make it all better.
Chapter twenty-three
Lori
I’m up early Saturday morning, showered, and dressed in my favorite black sweats and pink tee, files in my briefcase, and gone before my mother ends an overtime shift. I arrive at Cat and Reese’s place at nine and Cat greets me in the same uniform I’m wearing: black sweats, a tee, and her blonde hair piled on top of her head. “It sucks,” she says.
I need no clarification. “Your books never suck,” I assure her, following her inside and shutting the door.