Chapter Fifteen
SIMON WAS NO HYPOCRITE. He couldn’t go out there—to the party in the lobby—and celebrate her leaving. Not when he selfishly wanted her to stay. It would be selfish to expect her to stay here, in a position for which she was overqualified, just so that he would get to see her every day just as he had the past two years.
He’d wasted those two years. Of course he hadn’t wanted to risk a harassment charge. But Bette was obviously attracted to him, as well.
Wasn’t she?
Or had she been conning him like Ronan believed? No. He could not accept that—and not just because of his ego but because of Bette. She was not a con.
The door to his office opened and he glanced up from his desk. His heart flipped in his chest at the sight of her. She was so damn beautiful, never more so than now with her hair flowing down her back and around her shoulders. Bits of colored paper peppered the sleek, sable-colored strands. She closed and locked the door behind her.
And another part of his body leaped to attention, his dick hardening. “Bette...”
He was so damn happy to see her. He stood up and rushed around his desk to her. But as he leaned his head down for her kiss, her hand connected instead of her lips. And his head snapped back with the force of her slap. His skin stung from the blow. “What the hell?”
“What the hell?” she echoed. “How could you think I would betray Street Legal? That I would betray you?”
“What?” he asked. But he knew and he took a step back to sit on the edge of his desk as his legs began to shake slightly beneath him.
“I know why you seduced me,” she told him. “That it was just part of your sick plan to get evidence that I’m the office mole.”
His phone began to buzz on his desk. He didn’t need to read the text to know what had happened but he glanced down at the warning from Stone. “Ronan talked to you.”
“Talked?” She made a noise and blinked as if tears were about to sting her eyes. “He accused me of being a con artist, of tricking you and selling out the practice.”
“He shouldn’t have done that,” Simon said.
“Why not? It’s what you thought,” she said. “I wish you would have just told me that instead of playing games with me, instead of having sex with me.” Her face flushed and her eyes gleamed with anger. “That must have been quite a sacrifice for you, sleeping with me in order to get the information you were looking for.”
“Sacrifice?” He snorted now. “It was never a sacrifice.”
“I know you,” she said. “I know you would do anything for this practice. I guess even me.”
“Bette...” He’d thought he’d convinced her that she was beautiful and desirable, that he wanted her for her. But that wasn’t why he’d started showing an interest in her. And now she knew that. “You know I want you. Even now.” He stood up and reached for her, pulling her soft body tightly against his hard, tense one.
Her lips parted on a soft gasp. “Simon...”
“You make me crazy,” he told her. And he proceeded to show her just how crazy she made him as he leaned down and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her deeply, sliding his tongue in and out of her open lips. He pushed her back onto the desk, atop his papers and pushed up her skirt.
She didn’t fight him. Instead, she locked her legs around his waist and ground her hips against him. She wanted him, too.
He kept kissing her, his mouth making love to hers. But he pulled out a condom as he did it, fumbled with the packet and rolled it over the cock he barely managed to release before it shoved right through his zipper. Then he was inside her—and she was already wet and ready for him, already half coming as her muscles clutched him.
She convulsed around him, squeezing him until he came, too.
“See how crazy you make me?” he asked.
“According to your friend, I’ve conned you,” she said. “Do you believe that?”
“No!” Maybe he’d said it too quickly or maybe he’d hesitated too long. Either way he hadn’t answered it correctly because she jerked out of his arms. He reached for her again, but she stepped farther away and jerked down her skirt.
“You don’t trust me,” she said.
“I don’t trust anyone,” he told her. “And you know why.”
“You trust your friends,” she said.
“I grew up with them. I wouldn’t have survived if they hadn’t been worthy of my trust.”
“So you must believe Ronan—about Muriel.”
He tensed now. “Is she your friend?”
She nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me that?” And now he was suspicious. Could he have been wrong about her? Had she conned him after all?
“Do I know all your friends?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Yeah, you probably do.”
Her face flushed.
“Why didn’t you introduce me to any of your friends?” he wondered. “Were you embarrassed to be dating me?”
He hadn’t considered it until now. But it made sense that she might be, considering their practice had hurt one of her friends.
“I didn’t know what we were doing,” she said. “And I didn’t expect it to last as long as it has.”
“No,” he agreed. “That was why you started it so I would release you early from your two-week notice.” So she had conned him. “Was your contract with the fashion house your only reason for leaving Street Legal?”
“No,” she admitted. “I don’t respect the way you do business. The way you and that PR company obliterated Muriel.”
He sighed. It hadn’t been pretty. He couldn’t deny that. “Ronan had witnesses. He had proof. It was the truth.”
She didn’t argue that, just replied, “It wasn’t fair.”
“If you want to win, you can’t always fight fair,” he said.
“Winning shouldn’t be that important,” she said. “It shouldn’t be at the expense of other people.”
“When we win, someone else loses,” he said. “That’s life, Bette.”
“That’s your life,” she said. “And I don’t want any part of it anymore.”
He didn’t think she was talking about just her job now. “Bette...”
But she wouldn’t look at him. Instead she was looking down at her wrist and the thin gold watch on it. “My two weeks are up,” she said. “I never have to see you again.”
She didn’t have to. But did she want to?
“And Ronan can threaten as much as he wants,” she continued, “but he’s never going to find any evidence that I’m the mole. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
He knew he was wrong to have doubted her again, even for a moment. Hell, he’d been wrong to ever doubt her. She was no con artist.
“Except get involved with you,” she continued. “That was stupid. I should have known it would bring me nothing but pain.”
He had hurt her with his doubts and suspicions. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Why?” she asked. “You won. So it doesn’t matter if the other person gets hurt, right?” She must not have cared what he really thought, though, because she didn’t wait for his reply. She ran to the door, unlocked and dragged it open, then she ran out of his office.
And out of his life...
So Simon couldn’t tell her what he’d just realized. He hadn’t won. In fact, for the first time in his life, he’d lost. He’d lost her...forever.
* * *
Bette stared down at her sketch pad, but the page was blank. She hadn’t felt very inspired the past couple of days, not since she’d run out of Simon Kramer’s office and out of Street Legal.
She’d thought maybe coming here—to the fashion house—would inspire her. She was around all the beautiful people since models, photographers and other designers overflowed the old warehouse. But none of those people were as beautiful as Simon. He was really beyond handsome, beyond gorgeous.
And the way he touched her, the way he kissed her...
Heat rushed through her body as tension wound inside her, tension only Simon could fully release. Her vibrator had no effect on her the past couple of nights. She wanted Simon instead.
“Hey, Bette Bow!” a husky, feminine voice called out before slender arms wrapped around her from behind. A head settled onto her shoulder as Muriel Sanz peered down at the sketch pad. “What gorgeous confections are you creating for me to advertise next?”
She tensed in her friend’s embrace. And Muriel pulled back. “What’s wrong?”
“You should have given me a heads-up,” she said, “before you went to the bar association.” Then she wouldn’t have been so blindsided. But then Simon should have been honest with her about his suspicions, as well.
“I left you some messages to call me back,” Muriel reminded her. “You’ve been MIA since you gave your notice at Street Legal.”
She couldn’t deny that, but she didn’t want to admit why she’d been. “In one of those voice mails, you could have told me what you’d done.”
“You had to know I would go straight to the bar association,” Muriel replied, her usually smooth brow furrowed with confusion, “when you gave me those notes.”
Bette shook her head, and the pins holding up her hair pulled at her scalp. She wore her glasses, too. But she wasn’t hiding anymore, not like she’d done at Street Legal. Her hair was up to get it out of her way. And her glasses were so she could see her sketches...if she ever again summoned the inspiration for a design.
“I did not give you any notes,” Bette said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—just like I had no idea what Ronan Hall was talking about when he accused me of betraying the firm for my friend.” Now she wasn’t sure how good a friend Muriel really was.
Bette had thought the supermodel was sweet and down-to-earth. But maybe that was just an act. Maybe everything Ronan and that PR firm had said about her was true. She couldn’t be trusted.
“Ronan...” Muriel’s wide mouth twisted into a grimace of distaste as if just the sound of his name on her lips made her sick. “Of course he would be furious at having his lies exposed.”
He was mad. But he’d also been self-righteous. If he’d been lying, would he have felt that way?
Bette didn’t know what or whom to believe. She only knew one thing. “I didn’t give you anything,” she said. “I had no idea what he was talking about.”
Muriel’s pale green eyes widened in shock. The light color of her eyes was such a startling contrast to her naturally tanned-looking skin. Her hair was a mass of different-colored streaks of blond, red, brown, gold and black. But it was too random to have been salon styled. The woman had inherited only the best trait of each of the many nationalities making up her heritage. “Those notes really didn’t come from you?”
Bette shook her head. “Why did you think they did? Was there a note or anything?” Had someone forged her name? Now she wanted to know who the hell this mole was, too.
“No,” Muriel said. “The envelope was just shoved in my box. It wasn’t even postmarked. I don’t think it had been mailed.”
“So someone personally dropped it off?” Bette asked. “What was in it?”
“Notes on Street Legal stationery. Notes about the witnesses and what Ronan had told them to say about me on the stand.” She looked sick again, sick of the lies that had been uttered and then spread to ruin her reputation.
But Muriel had risen from the ashes. No matter that it was a lie, she’d started making the most of her bad-girl reputation. And modeling Bette’s Beguiling Bows was one of the ways she’d come back into the limelight.
“I can’t believe he would do that,” Bette murmured.
Muriel gasped. “Do you think those people told the truth about me?”
“No,” Bette assured her. Despite her brief moment of doubt, she believed Muriel was a good person. She wasn’t the monster her ex-husband and Ronan had made her out to be. “But I can’t believe Hall would commit the subornation of perjury and risk his law license.”
He, like his partners, had had to overcome so much to become lawyers and build their practice. There was no way that Simon could have known the truth. He cared too much about Street Legal to risk its future.
“He’s a bastard,” Muriel said. “They all are.”
But Bette could not agree with her. She’d seen Simon do good things. He was so patient with his older clients, so supportive of former street kids like Miguel. He was not the bad guy Muriel thought he was. He was not the guy Bette had once thought he was.
She felt a flash of regret over slapping him. But she’d had a good reason. He had seduced her. Too bad she wished that he would do it again.
And again.
But he’d only been doing it—doing her—to find out if she was the mole. He didn’t really want her. Like she wanted him.
She had to forget about him and focus on the future she’d fought so hard and for so long to realize. But her pen didn’t move across the page. She’d lost her inspiration.
She’d lost Simon.