chapter 8
Scarlett
“I DEFINITELY DIDN’T SIGN ANYTHING,” I tell Jaxon, exhaling slowly. “Why would I sign over my legacy to him? I can’t believe he did all of this.”
“My associate is taking care of everything,” he assures me, leaning back in his chair, gray eyes pinned on me. “Everything will revert back to your name, so don’t stress. The money will all go back to you once the accounts are unfrozen too, it’s just a matter of time.”
He’s in another navy suit today, and I wonder if that’s his favorite color. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt underneath, and I can’t help but notice his smooth skin peeking out beneath the two undone buttons.
“Okay,” I reply, crossing my legs and running my hand down my beige pencil skirt. “I guess I won’t need money and houses if I’m going to prison anyway, right? Will you send me cigarettes so I can trade them for security?”
Jaxon arches a brow. “Have you been watching prison movies?”
“Consider it studying for my potential new life,” I reply in a dry tone, letting my head fall back before composing myself. “It’s hard not to think of it when it’s a possibility, you know?”
He reaches out his hand to touch me but then pulls it away. I think he’s a naturally affectionate, caring person, but he knows that I don’t always feel comfortable with touch, so he’s stopping himself. I don’t know if that makes me happy or sad at the reality of it. He can’t even touch me like he would anyone else. I’m too messed-up.
“You need to stop thinking like that and instead focus on the solution, Scarlett,” he says, tapping his hand on the paper in front of him. “Have a little faith in me, all right? I have a few ideas, and I know one of them is going pay off and give us something to work with.”
I puff out a breath. “Trust isn’t the issue here, Jaxon. Like you said, if we don’t have the evidence to prove anything, it doesn’t matter if I’m innocent or not.”
“Did I say that?” he asks, wincing.
“Not in those words, but basically,” I reply, shrugging. “At least that’s what I got out of it.”
“What did you do in the two years you left the country?” he asks, and I get the feeling this has nothing to do with the case but rather his own curiosity.
“I helped my aunt,” I tell him, picturing her house in my mind. “She lives in this two-story house, in Paris. I cooked for her, took her to her appointments, and did anything I could to help. I went for walks and soaked up the culture. I guess I kind of took the time to heal, you know? To remember who I was and figure out who I want to be. I helped my aunt, but she helped me too. She helped me remember my worth, my goodness.”
He nods, our eyes connecting and holding. “I’m glad you had that time to find yourself again.”
“Me too,” I say, flashing him a small smile. “I’ve changed in that time. And unless something catches me off guard, I’m mostly normal.”
His gaze drops to my hand resting on the table. “So if I touched your hand while you saw it happening, you wouldn’t react or flinch?”
I swallow hard, and nod once. “I don’t think I’d flinch, no.”
Because I’d be expecting it, and I can brace myself.
Slowly he reaches his hand across the table and, as I watch, gently squeezes mine. My first reaction is to pull away, but I don’t. I let him hold my hand. Glancing up at him, we watch each other as we share this moment.
“Your hands are cold,” he tells me, gray eyes on them.
“I’m cold,” I whisper back to him.
“No, you’re not,” he says instantly, lifting and shaking his head. “You’re warm, Scarlett. You just need someone to show you that.”
We look into each other’s eyes for longer than is appropriate.
I don’t want to look away, but one of us needs to.
His hand is still touching mine, his warm skin mixing with my cool, lines and temperatures blurring. I start to feel a little light-headed, and a little confused that I don’t mind his eyes on me. When other people look at me, I want them to look away, but not Jaxon, which is exactly why I need to look away. I clear my throat and drop my gaze to our hands, then gently slide mine from his and place it on my lap under the table.
We had a moment that we shouldn’t have, and now I’m going to pretend it doesn’t exist.
I’m good at pretending.
A FEW NIGHTS LATER I go out to dinner and see a movie alone. I know it sounds sad, but it beats staying in the house and doing nothing. I’ve never been much of a social person, but for the first time ever I feel like being out and around people. I stop by the supermarket on the way home to grab some coffee, since I ran out this morning. When I see Jaxon standing there, still in his business attire, I have a moment where I want to flee. I’m about to give in and turn around when he sees me and smiles. He’s obviously not as awkward as I am, and knows how to act in public settings.
“Hey,” I say, walking closer to him. I want to ask about Valentina, if there’s been any progress, but I’m not sure if it’s okay to ask right now. “Did you only just finish work?”
He nods, wincing. “I’m a bit of a workaholic.”
“I can see that,” I murmur. It’s almost 9:00 p.m., and he should’ve finished work hours ago. “I guess you didn’t get to where you are today just sitting around.”
This is the first time I’ve seen him when he’s off the clock and I don’t know how to act. He’s still my lawyer, and I’m still his client, but we’re in a completely different setting. A normal one. And it’s a little weird.
“That’s true,” he says, grabbing a few oranges and placing them in his cart. “What did you do this evening?”
“I went to a Vietnamese restaurant for dinner,” I say, walking next to him as he grabs a few more items. “And I saw a movie. A horror. It was a rookie mistake.”
He stops in his tracks, and turns to me. “You saw a horror movie alone?”
“Who said I was alone?” I tease, arching a brow. I don’t know where this playful side has come from, but I like it. I can’t remember the last time I had banter like this.
“Your earlier description of your lack of friends,” he says, amusement written all over his face. We start to walk down the next aisle side by side.
“Okay, yes I saw a horror movie alone. It wasn’t that scary,” I say, grabbing a jar of coffee as we pass it. “It was pretty good actually, you should go see it.”
“I can’t remember the last time I saw a movie in the theater,” he admits, looking beyond me. “It’s been a while.”
“It had been a while for me too,” I tell him. “That’s why I wanted to go. Something different, you know? Plus I wanted to get my mind off things and get out of the house. The movie gave me an hour and a half of pure escapism. I usually read for that, and I’ll probably go home and finish my book now.”
“And drink coffee?” he asks, smiling. My gaze drops to his smile.
“It seems you have me pegged,” I reply, looking down as I grin. “Did you eat anything for dinner? It’s kind of late.”
I want to look at him more, memorize his face, but I don’t. I’m attracted to him, yes, but we have more important things to handle right now. He’s my lawyer, and he’s here for one reason and one reason only, to get me out of this mess. My track record with men clearly isn’t a good one, and I think I just need to stay away from men in general, no matter how handsome they are, or how dreamy their gray eyes are. There’s nothing left for me here, and after I hopefully win the case, I’m leaving and I don’t think I will ever return. There’s no point getting close to Jaxon, or any man for that matter. I’d hate to think that Darren turned me into a cynic, because that would mean that he won, but I’m definitely a realist now.
That doesn’t mean I can’t make a friend out of him though. I don’t have any of those. I know he’s my lawyer and I’m just his client, but I feel safe around Jaxon. And comfortable. It’s a feeling I’m not used to, and one I’d like to hold on to it. I don’t know if that makes me a bad person or something, but I don’t think I can be blamed. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this.
“Not yet,” he admits, looking down at his cart. “I was hoping to grab a few things and make something simple.”
“Can you cook?”
“I try,” he replies with a deep chuckle. “I can make manly food.”
My eyes widen. “I didn’t know food was gender-specific. Are you a food sexist, Jaxon?”
He laughs, then cringes. “Okay, that’s not what I meant. I just meant I live off a diet of steak and potatoes, and if I’m eating healthy, chicken and broccoli. And eggs. Lots of eggs.”
“So you can fry, grill, and boil,” I surmise, rolling my eyes. “So, can women eat those foods, or no?”
He smirks, shaking his head in amusement. “Feeling sassy tonight, hey?”
“Something like that, but you walked into that one.” I sigh and glare up at him. “Manly food.”
“How long are you going to hold this against me? It was terrible word choice.”
“You’re a lawyer, you aren’t allowed to use terrible word choice as an excuse,” I point out, lifting my chin up.
“I’m off duty,” he says, nodding toward checkout. “Come on, do you want to get a coffee or something?”
I hold up the jar in my hand. “I can always make us some?”
He hesitates for a moment, but then nods. “Lead the way, Scarlett.”