CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ERIC
A bright white envelope sits on my desk when I walk in Tuesday morning. Our interdepartmental envelopes are a disgusting yellow, so it’s not another note from Hazel in accounting. Her “memos” are nothing more than a thinly veiled plea for a date.
Not interested. Not with Kate in my life. Whatever is going on with her. I haven’t told a soul and don’t plan to. I don’t understand what happens to me when I’m around her, but I’m tired of fighting it. I’m tired of busting my ass in the gym and in the courtroom to sweat her out. It hasn’t worked.
Time to just embrace it.
“Sophie, do you know what this envelope is?” I call over my shoulder. “Who brought it?”
“No idea, Mr. Stevens.” She pops her head in the office. “Want me to ask around?”
“Nah. I’ll just have my coffee first. Wanted a jump on it.”
I pour a cup and study it. As a habit, I don’t like opening envelopes first thing in the morning. Anything could be in there, and I mean anything. A client’s ex once mailed me her used panties. Another time, an attempt at blackmail.
Never try to blackmail a lawyer unless you’ve got something really, really fucking good. That guy didn’t.
Caffeinated, I sit down and slice it open with a pocket knife, expecting the worst. Hell, for all I know it’s an announcement that I’m a daddy or some shit. Never sticks, though. God love those condoms, ladies.
I pull out a stack of photos that take me only seconds to recognize. It’s the prints from my fake date with Kate at Descanso. I’d almost forgotten about them at this point and have no idea what took Paxton this goddamn long to print them.
There are at least three dozen here with the film taped to a signed form, assuring there are no other copies floating around. Standard procedure every time we do this shit.
I flip my desk phone over to Do Not Disturb and go through all the glossy photos slowly, taking my time to savor each one. Paxton is getting pretty good after this many stings. He really knows how to angle it so things look convincing.
If I recall properly, though, not much convincing was needed on the part of Kate McArthur. She had walls up, but she willingly knocked them down to let Sir Eric on over. It’s fun, though, to see her reaction to my flowers and picnic. I spent so much time vying for angles in the beginning, I missed most of it.
The way she looks at me in these stirs more feelings in my gut. Feelings I can’t ignore any longer. I touch her face in each of them like I’m touching her in real life and feel an overwhelming sense of… happiness? Pride? Joy?
“I see you got the pictures.”
Paxton materializes in front of me and I nearly jump out of my skin at the surprise. Hastily trying to restack them, I cough and shrug.
“Not bad, Pax. You’re on your way to a Terry O’Neil award.”
“Shame I couldn’t get the naughty ones later. Your floor was too high up.” I shoot him a look but he laughs. “I’m kidding, bro. Kidding. Though it would have made for some great evidence. Unfortunately, I think most of the judges know what your bare ass looks like.”
“I just know how to work a crowd. What can I say?” I shove the pictures back in the envelope. “Thanks for the help.”
Paxton knocks his knuckles against the table and stares at me hard. “Going to use them?”
“I’ll have to look them all over again. Most of them make it pretty clear it’s me in the shots and I need plausible deniability. Don’t need to get fined again, you know? I like my job.”
“Bullshit.”
“I like getting paid by my job.”
“Better.”
I kick my feet up on the desk and sip my coffee. Paxton does the same. We’ve been friends for a long fucking time and we both know this is just a front we’re putting up. He doesn’t say anything, though, and neither do I.
Now that he’s said it, I am disappointed he didn’t have photos from our first night together. That is a memory I wouldn’t mind reliving a time or five. Kate was clearly looking for something to fill a void and I just so happened to have a dick that did the job.
After a long dry spell of terrible bar hookups, that was the first time in a very long time I’d enjoyed myself in the bedroom. Everything about her was intoxicating, from her scent to the way she moved on top of me.
A video would be even better than photos.
“Ready to cut the bullshit yet?” Paxton clears his throat and takes another sip of his coffee. “There are at least four fucking amazing shots in there you can use. You had her eating out of your palm and there were plenty of branches in the way to hide your identity. Everyone looking will know it’s not David. That’s fucking talent right there.”
“I guess I’ll have to look again.”
“I said cut the bullshit.” Paxton sit back up and stares me down. “I know you’ve got your dick twisted around this girl, Eric. It’s fucking weird, but I get it. Trust me when I say I do. However, I also know your career is riding on this shit and if you let her derail you—”
“I know, man. Shit.” I sit up, too and wave him off. “Get the fuck out of here. I’ve got work to do.”
“You need to put that shit in David’s file. Right now. While I’m watching.”
“I need to find these pictures you bragged so much about first.”
“I’ll pull them out for you.”
“Paxton.” I’ve hit my limit and then some. Paxton stands, his hands in the air and nods. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’ve got this.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“If you say you got it, I’ll trust you to have it. Don’t let yourself down.”
“I won’t.”
He shuts the door and leaves me with a headache. I go back through the pictures and find some of the shots he mentioned. They really were convincing. Her lips were pursed and her eyes hooded, like she was waiting to be kissed. Flipping through them takes me back to that evening, under a tree, surrounded by flowers and birds with a beautiful woman.
It was fake, that whole meeting. But it didn’t feel fake after a while.
I shove the photos back in the mix and throw them all in a bottom desk drawer.