Charlotte

The thing about working for a badass biker lawyer, I figured, is that you can’t show weakness.

You can’t let on that his clients scare you, that their biker world scares you. You can’t let on that you’d rather be at home on your sofa, hiding beneath a comforter and pretending the Lake of Fire doesn’t know your address. And you can’t be a doormat.

No guy I’d dated had ever accused me of being a doormat.

I started with a garbage bag. Crumpled receipts, empty envelopes. The sweaty gym bag went in, clothes and all. The razor in the bathroom, the used-up shaving cream. It all went. I spared the beautiful suit still hanging in the bathroom, though. I also took pity and spared his jeans and the shirts he’d been wearing this morning, because I liked them and he was so fucking sexy in them. But I left them on the floor.

Then I went through his mail, got banking information from him, and paid some of his bills.

Then I searched his computer for his phone book. When I found it, I took a deep breath, thought about draining the flask in the mini fridge, and called Devon Wilder.

“Ben’s office is calling me,” Devon said when he picked up, “but I’m betting you aren’t Ben. Which makes you new assistant Charlotte.”

“Hi,” I said. My courage left me and the polite girl underneath came back. “Am I bothering you at a bad time?” The man was a billionaire—he must be busy.

“I can talk,” Devon said.

In my Google search of Devon, I’d learned that he was engaged to a woman named Olivia who worked at an art gallery. So he was taken. My shivers at his voice were purely platonic, but I still got them. “Okay,” I said. “I’m calling to see if you can help with something.”

“Go,” Devon said.

“This strip mall. You agreed with me that this office has got to go.”

“Yeah,” Devon said. “True.”

“So, I’m willing to move it right now. Do you have any suggestions of where it should go?”

There was a beat of surprise. “Where’s Ben?”

“In court,” I said, “My brother was arrested and he’s getting him free.” Devon Wilder had served time, so I figured he wouldn’t judge.

He didn’t. He only said, “That’s pretty generous of him.”

“I can’t pay him,” I said, the words coming now. “I don’t have any money, which is why I’m doing this job for now. So I know I owe him. And you told me to clean him up. I’d like to start with his office.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Devon said. “I’ll make some calls.”

“Wait—I didn’t mean you had to do this yourself. I just wanted your advice.” I’d figured that if Ben needed a new office, his big billionaire client—one of his only clients—should have a say in it.

“Charlotte,” Devon said, “I don’t know if you know this, but I have a lot of money.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said.

“Money buys you a lot of things, I’ve learned,” Devon said. “One of the things it buys you is people who do shit for you with one phone call. So I’ll make a phone call, and I’ll find Ben a new office, and we’ll get him the fuck out of that strip mall. I’ll be finished before you can drink your coffee. Got it?”

I wasn’t about to argue with him. “Thank you,” I said.

“Just do me one favor in return.”

My mind raced. What favor could I possibly do for Devon Wilder? “Sure,” I said, though it sounded like a question.

“I’m getting married next month,” he said. “When Ben asks you to be his date for the wedding, say yes.”

For a second, I had nothing to say. Me, at Devon Wilder’s wedding? “I don’t—”

“Just do it.”

“How do you… How do you know he’s going to ask me?”

“Assistant Charlotte,” he said, “are you married? Or involved?”

“No, and no.”

“Then he’ll ask you,” Devon said. “I’ve known Ben for a long time. He doesn’t get guys out of jail because their sisters ask. Not ever. And definitely not now.”

My heart sped up, but I didn’t speak.

“He got fucked over,” Devon said, “by his ex-wife. That’s putting it mildly. It wasn’t just the money, though she sure as hell cleaned him out. But she also fucked him over, bad, in the kind of way most people don’t recover from.”

God, it sounded horrible. I couldn’t imagine.

“I don’t want him to come to the wedding by himself,” Devon said. “I just don’t. He likes you, which makes you the first woman he’s liked in ten years. So go with him.”

“We’re not a thing,” I protested. “We only met on Friday.” What a liar I was, thinking of that kiss. The way he’d tasted, the feel of his hands on me, hot and possessive and ready to please me. I’d fuck you until dawn. “It isn’t like that. He’s my boss.” Liar, liar.

“I get that,” Devon said. “I’m still asking you to do it.”

Damn it. A direct order from Devon Wilder. Plus an exclusive invite to his wedding. I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t curious.

And Ben. Despite everything, I liked the sexy, stupid, testosterone-loaded jerk. And I didn’t want him to take someone else to that wedding.

“Okay,” I said to Devon. “If he asks me—which isn’t a given—I’ll say yes.”

“Then pack up Ben’s stuff,” Devon said. “I’m going to make a phone call.”