Reasonable Doubt: Volume 1

Page 7



The sky was starless tonight—nearly pitch black, and the moon was hiding underneath a curtain of dark clouds. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, tonight’s sky bore a horrid resemblance to a certain night that occurred six years ago.

It was the night my life changed forever, the night that left me broken, shattered, and numb. All because of lies—a series of heartbreaking and inconceivable lies.

I tried hard to prevent myself from picturing the memories, but I could still hear that strained, ragged voice in my head: “Andrew...You have to help me...You have to get me out of here...Please... Save me, Andrew...”

I shook my head and blocked out the rest of that memory. Unlike six years ago, I was in control of this situation, and “Alyssa” lying to me meant that our friendship was over, done.

There was no justification for what she’d done, but before I cut her off, I needed to make her pay for lying to me, and I needed to figure out how.

Conviction (n.):

A judgment of guilt against a criminal defendant.

Andrew

“Mr. Hamilton?” Aubrey set my coffee down on my desk two weeks later. I’d personally insisted that she work as my intern, even though looking at her made me angry.

I’d made a point not to say too much around her, to refrain from staring at her too long, and I couldn’t help being crueler than ever—dismissive even. I made her responsible for my daily coffee, demanded that she re-do every assignment at least three times, and whenever she asked for my help, I answered her with a detached “Figure it out yourself.”

She never seemed upset or offended by my harshness, which made me even angrier. I’d thought that by having her work for me and seeing her crack under pressure that my attraction to her would fade, but it only intensified each time I saw her face.

Especially today.

As I pulled my coffee closer, I noticed that her ni**les were poking through her thin, beige dress, and it was so tight that I could see the imprint of lace panties.

Fuck...

“Mr. Hamilton?” she asked again.

“Yes, Miss Everhart?”

“I have an important rehearsal for a ballet I’m a part of, so I was wondering...” She looked absolutely nervous. “Can I go home early today?”

“No.”

She sighed. “I really need to be at this rehearsal...It’s at the Grand Hall.”

“So?”

“So,” she said, clearing her throat, “with all due respect, Mr. Hamilton, this is a pretty big deal for me. The Grand Hall is usually reserved for performances, so for them to open it and let us use it for a rehearsal is—”

I wasn’t listening, and as much as I wanted to look at my work again and make it clear that she was being ignored, I couldn’t. I was too busy staring at the contours of her mouth.

“That’s a fact.” She was still talking for some reason. “I think I’ve made very valid points, and since I’m not asking for too much, you should agree to let me go.”

“Get back to work, Miss Everhart.”

“Mr. Hamilton, please—”

“Get. Back. To. Work.” I glared at her, daring her to let another word slip out of her seductive mouth. “I don’t care about your personal life. I pay you for twenty five hours a week, so you’ll work twenty five hours a week, and you’ll work them when I say you’ll work them. So, get back to your cubicle.”

She stared at me for a few seconds, and I couldn’t help but notice tears welling in her eyes.

“You can take that box of Kleenex with you on your way out,” I said.

Shaking her head, she stepped back and headed for the door. “I’m going to ask Mr. Bach if I can leave early. No disrespect to you.”

“Excuse me?” I stood up. “What did you just say?”

She continued to walk toward the door, the sound of her heels clicking faster and faster. Before she could turn the knob, I spun her around and slammed my hand against the door.

“I’m not a fan of insubordination, Miss Everhart.”

“You won’t have to worry about that anymore.” Her face was red, twisted in anger. ““I’m going to ask Mr. Bach to move me with someone else because I refuse to work with you anymore.”

“Good luck with that. No one else wanted you. Only me.”

“I highly doubt that.” She tried to move away, but I grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head.

“I was the best interviewee and you f**king know it.” She hissed. “And since we both know that’s a fact, I don’t have to put up with your shit anymore.” She looked as if she wanted to spit in my face. “You are a cruel, cold, and condescending ass**le, and I haven’t learned shit from you; I doubt I ever will.”

“Watch your goddamn mouth. I’m still your boss.”

“You were my boss.”

I tightened my grasp around her wrists and looked directly into her eyes, pressing my chest against her br**sts. “Let me tell you what’s about to happen, Aubrey. You’re going to go back to your cubicle and you’re going to stay there until you’re done for the day—only getting up to bring me a new cup of coffee. You will tell your ballet director that you’ll come after you get your work done, and you will not go to Mr. Bach and say anything, because we don’t reassign interns just because they cry.”

“Then I guess there’s a first time for everything.” She threw my glares right back at me, narrowing her eyes as her chest heaved up and down.

“Aubrey—”

“Let me go before I scream, Mr. Hamilton. I wasn’t listening to a thing you just said so I highly suggest—”

I crashed my lips against hers, effectively making her shut the hell up. I kept my hands tightly clamped around her wrists, pressing her body against the door with my hips.

She murmured as I slipped my tongue into her mouth, as I bit her bottom lip as hard as I could. Without thinking, I let her hands go and gripped her waist—pulling her taut against me as my hand found its way underneath her skirt.

I slid my hand across the crotch of her panties, tapping my fingers against the lace, and then I slowly pushed them to the side and plunged a finger deep into her pu**y.

“Ahhh...” she moaned, making me bite her lip again, making me use two fingers instead of one.

She was wet—soaking wet, and as much as I wanted to f**k her senseless against my door and make her forget her name, I tore my mouth away from her.


“Get the hell out of my office.”

“What?” She asked breathlessly, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Go to your important rehearsal.”

“Mr. Ham—”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.” I reached around her and opened the door. “Go.”

She didn’t hesitate to walk past me, and as soon as she was gone I knew damn well this arrangement wasn’t going to work for too much longer. Either she was going to be reassigned or I was going to have to fire her, fast.

Hours later, when I was halfway through my work for the day, I noticed I’d received a new text from Alyssa. I rolled my eyes and changed her name to Aubrey before reading it.

“Where have you been for the past two weeks?” it said. “Are you okay? I’ve called and texted you and you haven’t said anything. I’m really concerned...If you get this, say something, anything. ”

I didn’t want to respond, but with the taste of her mouth still lingering on my lips, I gave in. “I’m fine. Just made a major discovery not too long ago and I’ve been trying to figure out how to deal with it.”

“Is it something serious?”

“VERY serious.”

“I’m sorry...Want to know something that will make you feel better?”

“I doubt anything you say can do that right now.”

“Want to bet?”

“Try me.”

“My boss just kissed the shit out of me. I think that’s why he’s so damn mean to me; he wants to f**k me...”

“I really don’t think your ‘boss’ wants to f**k you...”

“He definitely does. His c**k was rock hard when he was kissing me, and he was biting my lips and gripping me like he wanted to own me... I’ve never been so wet in my life...”

I hesitated. “How exactly is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“I was pretending he was you the whole time. I miss you.”

I immediately turned off my phone. I didn’t know what type of shit she was trying to pull, but I wasn’t falling for it.

“I was pretending it was you? I miss you?” Bullshit.

I wasn’t going to answer her calls or her messages for a long time. Sexy ass mouth or not.

Cross Examination (n.):

The interrogation of a witness called by one’s opponent.

Aubrey

I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Mr. Hamilton kissed me the other day, the way he pulled me against his chest and f**ked my lips with his mouth.

Thoughts of him kissing me had been invading my mind all day, and even now, when I was setting down his latest cup of coffee, I was tempted to walk behind his desk and dare him to kiss me again. Ever since I’d become his intern, he’d been quite mean to me—reckless, but I thought it was a training technique, a way to see if I’d quit under pressure.

Until he kissed me that day.

There was something intangible in his kiss; unspoken words, a repressed desire. It made me think that the glances he often tossed my way, those looks of scorn that were laced with wanting, meant a little more.

I placed a plastic stirrer into his cup and cleared my throat. “Do you need anything else, Mr. Hamilton?”

No answer.

I stood my ground and waited for him to look up at me; I wanted to see his face.

The suit he was wearing today—a dark grey three piece with a silver silk tie, made him look even more devastatingly beautiful than he normally did.

“Is there a problem, Miss Everhart?” He clenched his fists above the desk, trying his best to act like my presence wasn’t bothering him. But it was, I could tell.

I knew he would look up at any moment, so I stepped back, making sure the light blue dress I wore specifically for him would be in full view, but he kept his gaze lowered.

“No, sir.”

“Then get out of my office. I’ll need your Brownstein report with my next cup of coffee. Four o’ clock.”

“You just gave me that report yesterday. You said I could take all the time I needed.”

“You must’ve misheard me. You can take all the time you need today. Things change instantly around here, and that’s the exact reason why some of us never leave early. Four o’ clock.”

I stood there completely speechless. There was no way I’d be able to read and summarize a three hundred paged report by the end of the day.

“Did you lose some of your hearing between today and yesterday?” He finally looked up, his perfect face expressionless. “I need complete silence when I work and I can’t focus with your heavy breathing.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Get out, finish the report, and bring it back to me with my coffee. If you don’t, you’re fired.”

I quickly decided that he was bipolar, and that our seemingly connected kiss was just a mistake. I turned around and left his office, rushing straight to the break room.

There was no way I was going to get that Brownstein report done by the end of the day.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my messages—realizing that Thoreau hadn’t responded to my morning texts. Sighing, I decided to call him. I needed someone to tell me that my life wouldn’t end today when I was fired.

It rang once.

It rang twice.

It went to voicemail.

He hit ignore?!

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