Breaching the Contract (The Conflict of Interest #1) - Chantal Fernando

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For Jacqui Neill, My favorite stalker, thank you for being you. You are sweet, wonderful, and thoughtful. And I kind of adore you.

Love knows no right or wrong. Love is. Only is. —KAREN MARIE MONING

chapter 1 I

TRY NOT TO LET my nerves show on the outside, but the truth is, I’m a little

intimidated right now. Okay, more than a little. A hell of a lot. But this is what I want to do, and I need to make it happen. Failure is not an option, nor is showing any weakness. Jaxon Bentley is one of the top criminal lawyers in the country, and luck was on my side when he hired me as an associate at his firm. Others would kill to be in my place now. Getting an associate position at Bentley & Channing—one of the best law firms around—is a highly coveted job among my peers. They’ve actually never hired an associate directly out of law school before, so when this opportunity came up, everyone applied. I’m still not sure how I landed it. I mean, I know I’m smart, and hardworking, but there was some seriously stiff competition for this position. I run my fingers down my beige pencil skirt and shift on my feet. I hope I look the part. My block heels are already hurting my feet, even though I thought they’d be the safest option. I know there are no rules that say women have to wear high heels with their business attire, but the receptionist is in a pair higher than I could ever dream of walking in, so I’m glad I went with mine over the practical flats I was longingly eyeing this morning. “Katerina Dawson,” Jaxon says as he enters the conference room, offering me his hand. “Nice to see you again. Congratulations on graduation! I remember what it felt like to finally finish law school.” He’s handsome, with his gray eyes, dark hair, and stubble, not to mention his charming smile, but he’s not really my type. He exudes confidence and power, and one day I’d love to give off the same vibes. “Nice to see you too, Mr. Bentley,” I say quickly, offering him a warm smile. “Thank you again for choosing me for this position. I can’t tell you how excited I am to be working with you.”

Mr. Bentley smiles. “Top of your class and editor of the law review, it would’ve been stupid of me not to choose you. And I’m sure as you’ve heard, Katerina, I don’t make stupid decisions.” I try to hide my smile at that, and wish I could say the same. “Yes, of course. And please, call me Kat.” No one calls me Katerina except for my father, and usually only when I’m in trouble. “Kat,” he says, as if testing the name on his tongue. “Call me Jaxon. I hope you’re ready. This job won’t be easy, and it’ll test all your limits and everything you’ve studied over the last few years, but going by who you are on paper, I think you’ll be able to handle it.” He hands me a file. “This is the Curtis case, one I’ve agreed to take on. I want you to learn everything about it from top to bottom, because this case is going to be your baby, and you’re going to help me win it.” “No pressure then,” I joke, unable to stop myself. He’s handing over a case to me? I just finished taking the bar exam and now I’m being given a case. Holy crap. It’s surreal and both exciting and scary. This is everything I’ve been preparing for, and my first chance to prove myself outside a student setting. This is not something I’m going to fail at. He couldn’t have said it better—this case is going to be my baby. And I’d never fail one of my babies. If I had any. Okay, going off topic now. “You’ll learn to use the pressure and thrive off it. No pressure, no diamonds, right?” he says, lips twitching. His lip twitches as he guides me down the hall and gestures to the door. “This is my office.” He keeps walking, and I follow him to the door next to his, which he opens, displaying an empty office. “And this will be yours. I’m here if you need anything, and my door is always open to you. Or you can always call me by pressing two on the phone. I know we discussed this during the interview process, but as a reminder, we do things a little differently here. You won’t have a secretary, so you’re responsible for drafting your own briefs and correspondence. However, Yvonne, our office secretary, can help you with things that are urgent. We also have an intern, Callum, who can help with any legal research you may need. This may seem like a lot of work, but for now you’ll be working on my cases with me, and at the moment I have only a few clients, since they’re high-profile.” Excitement fills me at the thought of working on big, high-profile cases. This job is exceeding my expectations already. “You can take lunch whenever you like, and depending on the workload, and as long as you get your work done, I don’t mind if you head out a little early. We’re pretty flexible here,

but we also work our asses off.” I nod and follow him into the office, having a quick glance around the space. I sit down at my desk and smile up at him, so happy to have my own office. “I won’t let you down. Is there anything else you want me to do today besides study this case?” “Yes,” he says, stepping to the desk and lifting up another file. “There’s some research here I need you to do. And by some, I mean a lot.” He hands it to me and grins. “You know where to find me if you need me.” He walks out, and I get comfortable in my new chair and open the case file with excitement. And then I open the research one. Fuck. There’s so much information; this will definitely keep me busy for a while, but I don’t mind. I pull out my notebook and pen. This is what I’ve always wanted, and Jaxon is giving me the chance to work with minimal supervision, and with his trust. He’s giving me the chance. I don’t think he’ll ever know how much this means to me. I have everything to gain, and everything to prove. It’s my actions that define me, not where I came from, or who birthed me. My past only fuels my hunger, my desire to succeed. My nerves having completely left me, I smile. This is where I’m meant to be. I get to work straightaway. I’M WALKING BACK FROM grabbing something quick to eat at my desk, hand resting on my

bag, when I notice a man in a black suit drop something. He’s on his phone, seemingly having a serious conversation, judging by the scowl on his face, and has no idea that something has just slid out of his pocket. As I walk past him, I stop and pick up what I can now see is his wallet. His back is to me, so I gently tap his shoulder, but he ignores me. “You’re supposed to give me at least two weeks’ notice,” I hear him growl into the line. I tap him again, more forcefully this time, and he turns and flashes me a scowl like I’m interrupting him to ask for change or something. He’s handsome. That’s for sure. His eyes are crystal blue—beautiful and mesmerizing, even when filled with annoyance. His brown hair is blowing in the wind, slightly longer on top than the sides, and I can’t help but notice the enticing shape of his full lips. He glances at me, but it’s like he sees through me or something,

because he turns back away and says, “Yes, that sounds fair. I’ll be home tonight at seven, so we can discuss everything then. Bye, Amy.” Did he just get dumped or something? Although that wouldn’t explain the two-weeks’notice part. Still, he said he will see this Amy person at home tonight, so I wonder what the story is. “Excuse me, sir,” I say, my tone impatient. Here I am trying to do my good deed for the day, and he’s being rude. I feel like hitting him in the face with his wallet, or simply taking any cash while he’s watching—anything to make him pay attention. He’s clearly so lost in his head, in his problems, or in this Amy chick, that he doesn’t realize I’m about to walk away with his wallet and buy myself that Givenchy handbag I’ve been eyeing. He turns back to me, and must actually see me this time, because he asks, “Yes?” as he slides his phone into his pocket. It’s not a friendly yes, rather a What do you want? yes. The man is rude. I hand him his wallet. “You dropped this.” He takes it from me, then pats down his pockets as if making sure it’s really his. What, does he think he’s incapable of losing something? “You’re welcome,” I mutter, then turn to leave. “Wait,” he says, so I turn around to face him once more. “Thank you.” “No problem,” I say, my anger lessening. Maybe he’s not so bad after all. Or at least not as rude as I thought he was, considering he has some basic manners. “Today is not my day,” he explains, wincing, then holds out his hand. He shakes his head, as if to clear it, then offers me a small smile. “I’m Tristan.” “Hello, Tristan,” I reply, warily shaking his big hand. Mine looks so tiny in comparison. I bring my gaze back to his, and the two of us just watch each other for a few short seconds. I don’t know what it is about his face, but I don’t want to look away. “And what’s the name of the woman who saved me from calling up and canceling all my credit cards?” he asks, arching a brow. “Kat,” I say, letting go of his hand. “My name is Kat.” “Well, Kat,” he murmurs, glancing over me quickly. “I’m on a break, so how about I buy you a coffee to say thank you?”

“Oh,” I reply, glancing toward the road that my new office is on. As much as I’m tempted to say yes, I remind myself of the opportunity I’ve been given. “I’m actually just going back to work. But how about a rain check?” Did I just go from wanting to punch him to saying yes to a date? That pretty much sums up my dating history. I choose the worst kind of men—the ones who need to be fixed. The broken ones. The narcissists, or those who are emotionally unavailable. The tortured souls. And no, it never works out for me, and no, I’m never able to save them, so I’ve tried to stay away from men and concentrate on my career. It’s a much simpler life. “Sounds good,” he says, as I realize what I’m doing. Wanting to escape before he asks for my number, I take a step back and smile. “How about tomorrow?” he calls out. I turn and smile at him as I make my exit, waving slightly but saying nothing in return. I don’t need to be having coffee with anyone. I don’t have time for it right now. I need to concentrate on work, on impressing Jaxon, and on other things in my life, such as paying my rent every month. I don’t need to go have coffee with an older, good-looking man—one who came across as rude and slightly lost, no less—and who probably has a whole list of other issues that I’ll try to take on as my own the closer I let him get. Because that is what I do. No, I don’t need anything like that. All I need is to focus.

chapter 2 “H

OW’RE YOU DOING?” JAXON asks as he steps into my office, two cups of coffee in his

hands. “Not sure how you take your coffee, so I took a gamble.” I grin, pushing my chair away from the desk and standing, my hand out, greedy for the heavenly warmth in his hands. “White with two sugars, but any coffee is good coffee right now.” He chuckles and gives it to me. “Thank you,” I tell him. “Pretty sure I’m the one who should be bringing you coffee.” He grins and nods to the pile of paperwork on my desk. “We get our own coffee here. Besides, I think I gave you enough work that you can forgo any other duties. Do you need any help with anything?” “No, I’m good,” I tell him, taking a sip. “I’m really excited about working on the case, actually. I already have a few good ideas and interview questions.” “Good,” he says, tilting his head to the side and studying me. “I’m about to head out to the prison to talk to a client. Want to come along? Maybe next time I can let you go in my place.” My eyes widen, excitement filling me. I’ve never been to the prison before, and I want to experience everything, soak up every opportunity, and learn all I can. Who knew a prison would make me feel giddy? “I’d love to.” “Jaxon?” a familiar voice calls out from the corridor. Jaxon stands in the doorframe and sticks his head out. “In here. What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” the man says, his voice coming closer until he joins Jaxon just inside my office. “Just wondering if you know where the hell Yvonne is. The phone has been ringing nonstop. . . .” He looks at me, eyes widening, and trails off. Face etched with shock, he soon masks it, looking almost annoyed. Why is he annoyed at me? I didn’t know he worked here. He’s a

lawyer; no wonder he had a rude side. Us lawyers have a bit of a reputation, and unfortunately, the majority of the time the stereotype is true. “Tristan this is Kat, the new associate we hired. Kat this is Tristan, my partner and another criminal lawyer.” Fucking great. He’s another lawyer here. A partner. And technically my boss. I knew Jaxon had another partner, but I never did any research on him, since the position I was interviewing for was with Jaxon directly. This is Lawyering 101; always do your research. Dammit. Thank God I didn’t have that coffee with him, because things could’ve been much worse. Play it cool, Kat. I force a smile and nod. “Nice to meet you, sir.” He doesn’t look impressed, if the dull expression on his face is anything to go by. So we had a moment, big deal. Would I have been interested in him? Sure. He’s good-looking. Compelling, for some reason. Intriguing. I don’t know what it is, but I was drawn to him in that brief moment we met. But that was before I knew who he was, and now that I do, I can forget about it, put it behind us. I am a professional after all. “You too, Kat. You’re in good hands here with Jaxon.” “I know,” I say boldly, making Jaxon laugh. “We’re just off to visit a client in jail. I don’t know where Yvonne is. Maybe she’s on her break. I’ll put the voice mail on,” Jaxon says, then looks to me. “You ready?” I nod, grabbing my bag, making sure my notepad and pen are inside, and follow him to the door, brushing past Tristan as I leave. I can’t help but glance at him, our eyes connecting and holding. His give away nothing; they’re empty, lifeless. Blank. The man should play poker. I look away and follow Jaxon. I mean, it could be a worse first day, right?

I TAKE A BITE of my chicken salad sandwich and reread the document in front of me. We’ve

been working for hours, and Jaxon bought us some food to get us through until our meeting. “Did you notice anything yet?” he asks me, amusement in his tone. He keeps challenging me, pushing me, but even if I miss something he doesn’t hold it against me, he just shows me. He’s a great teacher. “I did,” I tell him, feeling proud. I point to the sentence. “The man is clearly lying. In his statement he said that he hadn’t seen the victim, but the records showed he visited the hospital.” “Good,” he commends. “Those small details are what helps salvage a case sometimes. Every detail matters.” He glances at his watch. “We better leave now, or we’ll be late for our meeting with the prosecutors.” We head to the meeting, and I watch in awe as Jaxon kicks ass. That prosecutor didn’t know what hit her as soon as he opened his mouth. After our minor victory in getting a piece of evidence suppressed, we return to the office. “Cool shoes,” Yvonne says as I walk back in. I glance down at my nude pumps and smile. “Thanks. I wish I could wear heels as high as you do.” She’s in red stilettos today, and I’m sure if she stepped on someone’s foot they’d have to go to the hospital. She points to her chair, grinning. “That’s as far as I go, Kat. I can wear these shoes because I hardly move from that chair.” I laugh as she sits down and waggles her brows at me. “You going to grab some lunch?” I nod. “Yeah, I’m going to grab a juice. Do you want anything?” I’ve been here three weeks now, and I really like working with Jaxon. While he’s tough, and has high standards, he also treats me as an equal and allows me to find my own footing. You can tell the man has a heart made of gold, even though I get the impression he’s not someone you’d ever want to mess with. “No, I’m good, sweetie,” Yvonne says, apologizing as the phone starts ringing and she moves to answer it. I wave at her and then head outside. It’s cold, and I pull my beige suede jacket around me tightly. I turn left and almost bump right into Tristan. We’ve been avoiding each other ever since that day we met on the street. It’s just a little awkward, even though I

guess it doesn’t have to be. We both have busy schedules, his more so than mine, so it’s been fairly easy to get through my day without having to see him for more than a brief passing moment, unless he comes into Jaxon’s office to chat with him and I just happen to be in there. I’ve noticed the two of them are friends and check in with each other at least once a day. If I’m honest with myself, I’m avoiding him for a reason. When I’m around him I don’t like the way my pulse starts to race a little, and the way my gaze is drawn directly to those eyes of his. . . . There’s a weird tension between us, and it’s simply easier to avoid that than to question why it’s there. “Sorry,” I say to him, and step aside, my arm accidentally brushing the material of his gray suit. I touch my arm where the material did, and stop as his direct gaze pins me in my place. Did I see a flash of heat in there? Lust? He studies me for a few quick seconds, then murmurs, “You have ink on your mouth,” before heading back inside the office without a backward glance. I pull my compact mirror out of my bag as I head toward the juice bar and have a look. Ugh, he’s right. There’s blue ink smudged all over my bottom lip, which must be from me biting my pen while I was working on a brief earlier. Goddammit. I cover my face with my hands and groan. Why can’t Tristan and I ever have a normal interaction? It’s always tense, awkward, or embarrassing. By the time I get to the juice bar, my mind is a mess. I order a green smoothie and, as I wait, rub my lips with my finger. Those are the words he had to say to me? I hope I catch him with his shirt on backward or something next time. Smoothie in hand, I head back to the office and sit at my desk, putting my earphones in as I read the report Jaxon wanted me to look over for him. Ed Sheeran’s soothing voice hits my ears, and between that and concentrating on the papers in front of me, I don’t notice anyone entering my office until Tristan is standing right in front of me. I glance up at him and pull one of my earphones out. “Jaxon just called,” he says to me, frowning. “You weren’t picking up your phone.” I glance to my phone next to me, seeing three missed calls. “Shit, I forgot to take it off silent. Is everything okay?” “He’s running late and wants you to start the interview with his next client,” Tristan says, pursing his lips and handing me a file.

“No problem,” I say, taking it from him. Our thumbs accidentally touch in the handover, and when I hastily pull my hand away, the file falls onto the table, papers scattering. I quickly pick them up but keep my head down, silently cursing myself. When I straighten, file in hand, Tristan is still standing there watching me. “Is there anything else?” I ask, keeping my tone even when all I want to do is snap at him. He bends and picks up one piece of paper I’d missed because it’d fallen on the floor, and hands it to me. “Don’t mess this up” is all he says, and he glances at his watch. “They’re already waiting in his office, and you’re now officially late. I don’t know why Jaxon has so much faith in you.” “Lucky I’m working with him then,” I say to him. And late? By what, thirty seconds? I glance at the clock on the wall, and yes, I’m about one minute late, but only because he won’t leave my office. I walk around him and exit without saying another word. The man is infuriating. No wonder my friend from law school, Callie, said he has a reputation for making associates and interns cry, and hardly anything intimidates Callie. At the time, I didn’t understand why she didn’t apply for this position, but now it makes perfect sense. He’s tough in the beat-you-down-and-tell-you-when-you-are-messing-up way. He’s clearly not a compassionate, approachable man. He’s good at what he does, yes. He has a reputation just as good as Jaxon’s, but he’s . . . I don’t know. Meaner. Less empathetic. Always brooding. I rush to Jaxon’s office, opening the door and smiling at the man sitting down. He stands as soon as I approach him. “Hello, Mr. Davensworth. I’m Kat, and I’ll be stepping in for Mr. Bentley this afternoon and helping him with your case,” I say, shaking his hand. He grips my hand, then lets it go and nods once. He’s good-looking, in a rough kind of way. Brown eyes, and a mop of dark hair that he’s hidden beneath a black cap. He sits back down only when I do. A gentleman.

I open his file—the papers upside down. I silently curse Tristan, turn them the right way around, and then glance up. “So it says here you and Mr. Bentley spoke on the phone regarding allegations made by your old workplace, is this correct?” “Yes,” he replies, tone emotionless. “They’ve accused me of stealing money from the company.” “Why don’t we start from the beginning. Can you tell me about everything that has happened so far?” I ask him. He starts telling me everything, from start to end, and I write it all down for Jaxon. I also take initiative to write down any notes or ideas I have for the case, things I need to look into and research. “Thank you for explaining all of that,” I tell him, placing my pen down. “Do you think I have a chance of proving that I’m innocent?” he asks, and it’s the first time he’d admitted that he didn’t do it. I’m about to reply when Jaxon walks in, saving me. “Sorry I’m late,” he says to the both of us. I stand from his seat and gesture for him to take it. “Do you need me to do anything else, Mr. Bentley?” I ask him. “No, I’ve got it from here, Kat,” he tells me, his eyes thanking me for covering for him. I nod and quickly exit the room, closing the door softly behind me. I head to Yvonne’s desk to see what she’s up to before I get back to work, only to see her having a chat with Tristan. He’s suddenly everywhere. “Your client canceled,” Yvonne tells him, tapping her long red nails on the desk. “And the rest of your day is free.” “So I get to go home and actually spend some time with my kids?” he asks her, brow rising. Yvonne smiles and nods. “Enjoy the rest of your day.” “Oh, I will,” Tristan says, smiling at her and then leaving. He has kids? And even more surprising, he smiles like that?

With his eyes? Maybe there’s more to him than I think.

chapter 3 W

HEN I HEAR MY door open the next morning, without looking up, I say, “I’ve

made a breakthrough on the Curtis case, Jaxon,” referring to the one he gave solely to me to take care of. “I’m confident there will be enough evidence to prove his innocence.” “Jaxon isn’t coming in today,” Tristan says, making my head snap up. He sighs and sits down opposite me. “Or tomorrow.” “What do you mean?” I ask him, leaning back in my seat and studying him. “Is everything okay?” “He’s had a family emergency,” he explains, expression blank. “He’s taking some time off, and has asked me to take over his cases until he returns. Including the ones you’re working on.” I grit my teeth together. While I feel awful Jaxon clearly has something bad enough for him to take some time off work, the thought of Tristan being my new mentor is like a bad dream. A worst-fucking-case scenario. “I see,” I murmur, clearing my throat. I glance down at the case file longingly. “Will I still be working on his cases, and the Curtis case? Or . . .” “No, you’ll be working on mine, with me,” he states, standing. “I’ll only be taking on some of his cases though. I’ll give his more high-profile clients the option to come to me or to find another lawyer to represent them.” “Right,” I say, shoulders hunching. I’d already put so much work into the projects Jaxon gave me, and now they’re being taken away from me. Still processing this big change, I take a deep breath and dare to ask him, “What would you like me to work on today?” “I want you to get me a coffee, black, two sugars, and then come find me in my office so I can give you further instructions,” he says, heading to the door. “I’ll see you in ten.” He leaves the room, and I scowl.

Jaxon never sent me to get coffee, unless I was getting some for myself anyway. Jaxon would actually bring me coffee, not the other way around. He treated me like an equal. His equal. Shit. I have a bad feeling about this. TAPPING MY FOOT ON the grass, my jaw tighter than it’s ever been, I wonder how the fuck I

got here. To this moment. Standing in front of an elementary school. I worked my ass off in law school. I graduated at the top—not the top 5 percent or the top five—the very top of my class. I had offers from every prestigious firm in the state and had every opportunity presented to me as a law school graduate. And after all that, instead of working on interesting cases and saving the world, I’m picking up kids from school. Kids who aren’t mine. Basically, today, I’m a nanny. When Tristan had told me his nanny had called in sick and he needed me to pick up the kids and take them home, I’d thought he was joking. I’ve never even met his kids before, for one, and second, this is most definitely not in my job description. I’m not his assistant; I’m his employee and here to learn from him so I can be the best lawyer I can be. I’m not here for this. Silently fuming, I glance around and wonder which kids are his. He told me to take his car so they’d recognize it and said he’d called the school to pass a message to them saying someone who works for him will be there to pick them up. When a little boy walks up to me and just stares at me, I assume he’s Tristan’s kid. He has big green eyes, and I have no doubt he’s going to break hearts with those one day. “Logan?” I ask, glancing down at him. He looks to be about six, maybe seven, and has one of those haircuts that requires him to flip his dark bangs back. “Yes,” he says, squinting his eyes at me. “Who are you? I thought Dad was going to pick us up today.” “He got busy with work and sent me instead,” I tell him, shifting on my feet. I’m not very good with kids. I don’t think I even know any kids, and conversing with one is a little awkward. I wonder where their mother is, and why Tristan seems to be a full-time single dad. Maybe they share custody and he has them for a week and then they swap, or something. “Where’s your sister?” I ask him, looking around. I want this to be over as soon as possible.

“She takes her time,” he says, opening the car door and throwing his bag in. “She chats with her friends and walks slowly.” Great. A few minutes later, a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl walks up to me, and going by the scowl on her face, she’s less impressed than Logan is that her father isn’t the one standing here right now. I notice that her eyes are just like Tristan’s. “I should have known Dad wouldn’t have made it,” she says, lifting her chin. She glances to the passenger seat, where she sees her brother sitting and throws her hands in the air. “That’s my seat. I’m the oldest!” Great, the good old who-gets-to-sit-in-the-front-seat war kids have been having for generations, and now I get to experience it with random kids I just met. “I’m sure you can sit in the back this one time,” I tell her, ushering her in. She gets in, but lets me know she’s not happy, with her deep sigh and cold demeanor. I ignore her and get back into the driver’s seat. The car is now silent, and I’m feeling a little uncomfortable, so I turn on the radio and put Tristan’s address into the GPS. Apparently I have to stay there and babysit until he’s done with his client, and only then do I get to head back to work. Yay for me. I quickly glance at Logan in the seat next to me before bringing my gaze back to the road. Am I supposed to feed them? I remember always being super hungry after school when I was a kid. We didn’t have a lot of money—my dad was a single father and worked in a restaurant as a manager—but he always managed to put together something delicious for me to eat. “Are you guys hungry?” I ask them, glancing at Laura in the rearview mirror. “Anne makes us healthy snacks after school,” she tells me. “Usually a fruit platter, or something like that.” “I like avocado,” Logan announces. I blink slowly a few times. Anne must be their nanny. “Well Anne’s not here, so we’re going to have to make do.” I pull into a McDonald’s drive-through, smirking when I see Logan’s face light up. “You’re letting us have McDonald’s? Awesome.” “Dad isn’t going to like this,” the little know-it-all inserts from behind me. “He says a healthy, balanced diet keeps your mind and body strong.” “A burger every now and again won’t kill you,” I tell them. I’m living proof of that.

I fucking love burgers, and any kind of junk food. “Mom used to let us get burgers sometimes,” Laura says, her voice lowering with each word. “Mom’s not here anymore,” Logan then says, breaking my heart. Where is their mom? I place my order for myself, then ask what they want, and order that. When the food’s ready, I pass Logan the big bag of food, which comes up to his chin. I look over at him, amused, and he flashes me a big grin. Okay, he’s a bit cute. When we get to Tristan’s house, my eyes widen and my jaw drops. It’s huge. “I can’t wait to make partner,” I say out loud to myself, because I’m going to live in a massive house just like this one. I unlock the door and let the kids go in first, locking it behind me after I enter. I walk through the wide hallway, looking at the photos hanging on the light gray walls that lead me to the kitchen. I place the food on the counter and do a circle, turning and taking in everything. “Wow” is all I can say. Tristan has good taste. Black-and-gray marble counters, all stainless steel appliances, and a modern vibe that I really like. The kids sit down at the white dining table with their burgers and fries, and I join them. Logan’s eyes flutter shut at the first bite of his cheeseburger. “Yum.” Laura stays quiet but finishes her food before anyone, so I know she secretly loved it. “So how was your day?” I ask them, trying to make small talk. Another thing my dad always did with me, we’d chat about our days over our meals and tell each other everything that happened. “Okay,” Laura tells me, shrugging. She arches her brow and says, “You never even told us your name.” “Oh,” I say, taken aback. “I guess I didn’t. It’s Kat.” Great, I just walked into their house and fed them food they aren’t allowed to eat without them even knowing my name. Good thing I’m not a real nanny; I’m failing as one. “Meow,” Logan says, making me laugh as I pop a fry into my mouth. “How was your day, Logan?” I ask him, wishing I had gotten some soda to wash the food down. I wonder what Tristan has in his fridge.

“Good,” he says, licking the salt off his fingers. “We did some stuff.” “Very explanatory,” I reply, standing up and heading to the fridge. When I open it, all I find is bottled water and juice. I grab the juice and three cups and return to the table. “So what do you guys usually do after school?” “Homework, then music practice,” Laura says, taking a sip from her pink cup. “Then we get free time to do whatever we want.” “Sounds fair. What instruments do you both play?” I ask, scrunching my burger wrapper up and placing it in the bag. “I play violin,” Logan announces proudly. “Laura plays the viola.” The violin and the viola are different instruments? Ha, I guess you learn new things every day. “I guess it’s homework time then,” I announce, cleaning up the table. I might as well use this time to get some of my work done too. Logan grabs on to my arm and hugs it. “I like you,” he tells me. I smile down at him. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.

chapter 4 L

OGAN IS PRETTY AWFUL at the violin, but I suck it up and let him play, with a

smile on my face. Laura, older, with more experience, plays well and actually in tune, for which I’m grateful. I’m with them for about two hours before Tristan walks into the house, my Camry keys in his hand. I didn’t really feel comfortable driving the expensive dark blue Maserati, but he didn’t leave me much of a choice. Logan runs up to Tristan and hugs his leg, while Laura acts cool with a casual “Hey, Dad.” Tristan lifts his son in his arms and hugs him, smiling wider than I’ve ever seen, and then moves to his daughter and kisses the top of her head. When he brings those blue eyes to me, however, that smile drops. Seriously, what did I ever do to the man? “You can head back to the office to finish up any work you have. I left you a list of things I need done by morning,” he tells me, handing me my keys back. No “Thank you.” No “I know this isn’t in your job description, but I was in a tight spot and I appreciate it.” Nothing. Unbelievable, infuriating man. “Yes, sir,” I reply in a dry tone. “Do you have to go now?” Logan asks me, bottom lip pouting. “We were just about to watch Disney movies!” I glance at Tristan to see the surprise on his face, his eyes widening as he looks down at his son. “I can’t, buddy. I’ve got to get back to work,” I tell Logan’s cute little face. Sharing a grin with him, he threads his arm through mine and glances up at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. “You’re quite cute,” I tell him.

“Will you come back and see me?” he asks, studying me thoughtfully. I notice he has little brown freckles on his nose. “I’m sure she will,” Laura adds. “Dad’s always busy, so he’ll probably ask her to come get us again.” My gaze snaps to Tristan, and I don’t miss the flash of pain etched in his expression before he masks it. I never thought about how hard it must be to be a working parent with a demanding career, but I see just how challenging it can be in his eyes right now. “Your dad has such an important job,” I tell Laura, shrugging. “I’m only working to become like him, so sometimes I can leave the office and he can’t.” I don’t know why I stuck up for him, especially when it was probably crossing a line to do so, but I think it’s unfair for Tristan to feel guilty for having a successful career. I mean, they get to live in a house like this, for one, but I know it must suck to not have much quality time with their father. “Why is his job so important?” Logan asks me, looking genuinely curious. Has no one explained this to them before? “Because not many people can do what he does.” I try my best to explain in a way that they will understand. “He’s very qualified and good at what he does, so a lot of people want him to help them.” “Cool,” Logan says, smiling at his dad proudly, while even Laura looks to her dad, an impressed look on her face. “I better get going. Nice meeting you guys,” I tell them, waving. I grab my handbag and head toward the door, with Tristan following. “Kat,” he calls, so I turn to face him. I think he’s going to say something, thank me maybe, but he doesn’t. He just opens the door for me and says, “Get back safely. I’ve seen how you drive.” “Well enough that you allowed me to drive your kids home,” I point out, arching a brow. His lips tighten. “Be there early tomorrow, Kat.” With him standing this close to me, looking into those blue eyes, I forget how infuriating this man can be. I almost forget how he made me get him coffee and then babysit his tribe today, too. Almost.

“I’m always early,” I say, walking out the door. I have things to do and I don’t want to stand here wasting my time arguing with him about my driving, or listening to his questioning my work ethic. I’m not stupid—he’s better at arguing than me. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then. I’m sure you’ll have lots of other useful tasks for me to complete.” I’m all over the place with this man, back and forth, hot and cold. I don’t know whether I want to kiss him or kick him right in the nuts. Maybe next he’ll get me to polish his shoes or something. He doesn’t engage or respond, instead he just waits patiently at the door until I get into the car. When I pull out onto the road, only then does he head back inside and shut the door. I never know what he’s thinking. And for some reason, I really want to.

chapter 5 “T

RISTAN SAID HE WANTED me to help you with some research,” Callum says, coming and

sitting down next to me. He opens his laptop and starts pressing buttons. “He’s in a mood today, isn’t he?” Callum is still in law school, and usually comes in twice a week as an intern. I’ve found him to be pretty witty, with a mixture of dry humor and dad jokes. He can be a bit of a smart-ass too, but he’s actually pretty good company. He lightens up the place with his easy nature and laid-back attitude. “Tell me about it,” I grumble, showing him the research I’m doing on a murder case Tristan asked me to work on today. When I walked in this morning, I’d hoped that my babysitting gig yesterday had earned me some points with him, but no. He started off by sending me on a coffee run, and then made me tidy and organize his desk. After that he let me do some work on the case Jaxon had left with me, which I’m grateful for, but it wasn’t long before he sent me on another errand—to go to the supermarket for him to grab a few things for his lunch. He sent me to the fucking store. Inside I was fuming, but I did everything he asked and managed not to complain, which is maybe why he gave me some actual law work to do. I’m compiling all the information and evidence for the murder case he was just handed, so he can reference it whenever he needs to. I don’t know why he’s in a bad mood today, but he’s been tense ever since he walked through the door this morning. Unlike when I was working with Jaxon, Tristan doesn’t let me do my own thing in my own time. No, he keeps coming in and seeing what I’m doing, and breathing over my shoulder. I hate it. Jaxon never micromanaged me, and I really appreciated it. Tristan is a whole other ballgame, and he’s not an easy man to work with. Just as I’m thinking that, he sticks his head into my office. “Kat, I need you to be ready to leave at two thirty to pick up the kids from school.”

My jaw drops open. Again? I grit my teeth and clear my throat, trying to calm myself. “I thought picking them up yesterday was a one-time thing.” “My nanny has a bad case of the flu, so she’ll probably be out for the rest of the week,” he explains, giving away nothing in his expression or with his tone. “So you’ll be helping.” He leaves and I turn to Callum, who chuckles. “You’re his bitch.” I purse my lips. “Shouldn’t it be you doing this shit? You’re the one still in school. You should be his slave, not me.” Callum pushes back his chair and raises a brow. “Would you trust me with your kids, if you had any?” “God no,” I say instantly, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s just that I’ve worked my ass off to be here, and it’s not fair that he’s making me do shit like this.” I know that at the end of the day, I can complain all I want, but I really need to suck it up. He’s the boss, and he makes the rules. I just need to do what I can and hope that Jaxon returns soon and reclaims me. A girl can dream. I leave Callum to finish the research and get ready to pick up Logan and Laura. “Kat?” Tristan calls before I’m about to leave. “Yes?” I ask, car keys in hand. What else can he possibly ask of me right now? To help them with a school project or something? Fuck, I better not have to papier-mâché something. “No junk food today,” he says, arching a brow. “There’s fruit and vegetables in the fridge they can snack on until I arrive with dinner.” How . . . fun. “I’m sure they’ll much prefer that,” I say, flashing him a saccharine-sweet smile. Blue eyes narrow to slits. “What would you suggest? Burgers and fries every day?” “No,” I reply, shifting on my feet. “We could mix it up you know, sometimes some fried chicken, or hot dogs . . . or maybe—” “Kat,” he chides, lip twitching. “A healthy fruit and vegetable platter will do.” “I’ll make sure they know it’s your idea not mine,” I say, waving as I exit the office. I take my car this time, since they’ll recognize me now. It’s nowhere near as nice as their dad’s, but it’ll have to do. When I arrive at their school, I park and stand out on the grass, where they can see me.

I have to say, this is not what I thought I’d be doing as an associate at the top law firm in the state.

chapter 6 I

DIDN’T MEAN TO SNOOP.

But when I walked past Tristan’s bedroom and the door was slightly ajar, I couldn’t help myself. So here I am, in my boss’s bedroom, staring at the picture of him, his wife, and their two kids. They look like the perfect family, all of them standing in a row, holding hands. Logan is a baby, so the picture must have been taken several years ago. Tristan’s wife has long blond hair, and is tall and willowy, and resembles a model. She’s beautiful. Tristan looks so happy in the picture it makes my chest hurt. What happened to her? Did they get divorced, or perhaps she passed away? I put the photo back on top of his drawers and eye his king-size bed covered in an expensive-looking gray quilt. I wonder if he brings women here. I can’t see him having much charm, but then again, he probably just doesn’t use it on me. It’s his job to have his way with words. I leave his bedroom and rejoin the kids in the living room. Logan wanted to watch Hercules, which we couldn’t watch yesterday, so we’re all snuggled on the couch, popcorn within our reach. I open my laptop and am about to start typing when I hear a big sigh from Laura. “Dad always works during movies too.” I slowly close my laptop. Heaven forbid I’m anything like Tristan. The next thing I know, Tristan is gently shaking me awake. I must have fallen asleep. “Mmmm?” I mumble, sitting up and realizing exactly where I am. Shit. I glance around, but the kids are fast asleep too. I sigh in relief, then rub my eyes. “What time is it?” He winces with an apologetic look. “I had to stay at work late, sorry. I tried to call, but you weren’t answering the phone.” Apparently because I’d decided it was nap time for everyone. “It’s almost eight,” he says, sitting down on the couch by my feet and running his hands through his hair. He looks exhausted. His skin is pale, and there are bags under his eyes. I don’t know how I never noticed that. With his hair now sticking up in every direction, he

looks almost boyish, and slightly vulnerable. I should be angry that he made me stay here, at his house, being his own personal babysitter, but with him looking slightly defeated, I don’t have it in me to say anything. “How did we all fall asleep?” I ask, shaking my head. “That movie must have been a real winner.” He smirks and tilts his head, a sleepy look on his face. “If I’d been here, I’d have napped too.” “I can see that,” I murmur, studying him. “You look dead on your feet.” He lifts his hand to his shoulder, trying to rub what I assume is stress from the muscle there. “Yeah, it’s been a long day.” My brow furrows as I watch his pathetic attempt to give himself a massage. “I give a pretty great massage, if you need one,” I tell him, surprising myself at the offer. I must be more exhausted than I thought, yet I find myself moving toward him before he has a chance to say anything, and touch his shoulder. “Turn to the side.” He silently turns on the couch, giving me his back. I place my hands on either side of his shoulders and apply pressure, my thumbs circling. I can feel how hard and muscular his back is, he clearly takes good care of his body to remain so fit. I wonder what he looks like shirtless . . . I lick my lips as my mind wanders. He makes a moaning sound, a deep growl, so I continue massaging out the tight muscle. “That feels so good,” he says in a husky tone that makes my hands pause. With the sound of his voice, the atmosphere suddenly changes, the air getting thicker, the feel of my hands on him suddenly making me realize how inappropriate this is. I shouldn’t be touching him; he’s my boss. It’s just an innocent back rub, though, right? The racing of my heart and my suddenly dry mouth say otherwise. I clear my throat, remove my hands, and sit back, my breasts suddenly feeling achy, my nipples pressing against the material of my blouse. “How’s that?” I ask, my voice coming out thick. “Much better, thank you,” he says, returning to his original position and studying me. “You weren’t lying, you’re really good at that.” “Don’t mention it,” I tell him. Seriously, don’t mention it. I just gave my boss a back rub. That’s normal, right? Yes, totally, completely normal. I’m planning my escape to get my ass back home, when he speaks.

“I brought food if you’re hungry,” he tells me, eyes on my face. “I don’t want you to have to go home and worry about dinner when it’s my fault you’re going home so late. I really hope Anne starts feeling better soon, because I don’t know how much more of this I’m going to be able to take.” His words feel like a bucket of ice-cold water being poured over my head. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take? I don’t know how much more of this I’m going to be able to take. It’s not that I don’t like his kids—I do. They’re great kids, even Laura, with her slight attitude problem, but this is not what I signed up for when I accepted this job at Bentley & Channing. I have goals, plans, and dreams, and me being here doesn’t help me climb toward them. Maybe there’s another opportunity out there waiting for me? I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. “You and me both,” I mutter under my breath. He ignores me. I take a deep breath, calming myself. He’s my boss, and he can make me do whatever he wants. I just need to suck it up and hope he starts trusting me enough to let me do some real work. “What did you bring?” I ask quietly, watching as he removes his tie and places it on the arm of the couch. This is so inappropriate right now. He’s not touching me or anything like that, but I’m in his house, the sun has gone down, and we’re acting like he’s my friend and this situation is normal, when it’s decidedly not. He’s my boss. My very rude boss. I need to go home, now. “Chinese,” he says, moving to stand up. I put my hands out. “Don’t move, you’re exhausted. Why don’t you relax a little? I’m going to head home now, get some rest. I already have dinner waiting in my fridge.” A lie, but I need to bail. I’ll eat toast if I have to. “Kat,” he murmurs, and something in his tone makes me look at him. “Yes?” I reply in a soft tone. “Thank you,” he says, locking his eyes with mine. His are gentle, and a little regretful. I don’t know what mine hold. I don’t want him to think this is okay when it’s not, but he’s clearly in a tight spot. He’s never told me what happened to his wife, or how he ended up the sole parent. Either way, he’s alone. A single father and partner of a firm who is trying to

handle the caseload of two partners, and he’s trying to make it all work. I don’t have it in me to kick a man when he’s down. I nod, stand, and grab my bag. He gets up and walks me to the door, and then to my car. He opens the car door and waits while I slide in. I glance up at him, and say, “Get some rest, Tristan.” He nods and reaches out to tuck my hair back behind my ear. I don’t think I breathe while his finger traces my cheekbone until the lock of hair is tamed. He then steps back, waits until I’m safely buckled up, and closes the door. I drive home, not sure what to think about tonight’s events, about Tristan, about anything. THE NEXT MORNING, SOMETHING magical happens. Tristan, dressed in a sharp, black suit,

brings me coffee, and just how I like it too. “Is it my birthday, or something?” I joke, grinning up at him from my desk. He still looks a little tired today, and I wonder how much sleep he managed to get last night. I get a lip twitch. “Or something.” “Thank you,” I tell him, happy I don’t have to venture out to get the coffee for us this morning. “Greatly appreciated. Although Jaxon used to bring me one every morning—” “Don’t push it,” he cuts me off, arching a brow. “I’m just pointing out the differences in mentor technique,” I reply with a cheeky grin. “What do you need me to do today?” I rub my hands together, itching to learn, to be productive. To make myself useful. He smiles. And then he slides a folder over to me. A real case. No cleaning, no errands. Actual law work. I smile and do a little happy dance. He chuckles and says, “You can keep working on the Curtis case, but I also want you to work on the Davensworth case I took over for Jaxon. You took some great notes during the interview, and I’ve made some of my own. What he failed to mention to us is that the company that’s accusing him of the theft actually belongs to his biological father.” My eyes widen as I remember the man I interviewed. “His own father is accusing him of stealing money from his company?”

He nods but then tilts his head to the side and adds, “Except he doesn’t know that Brenton is his son. Brenton was adopted as a baby and has a different last name. It actually look me a long time to find that out because the information was so buried, since it was a closed adoption.” “Do you think he stole the money as some kind of revenge? Surely this can’t all be a coincidence,” I tell him, brow furrowing at the possibility. “I’m not sure,” he says, tapping his knuckles on my desk. “It gives Brenton motive though. I don’t know; maybe we can play the sympathy card. Say he isn’t a thief or a criminal, just a hurt son trying to get some attention from his father.” “He’s claiming he’s innocent though,” I point out. “I know,” he muses, running his hand down his jawline. “I’ll be interested to see what else you can find.” “Me too,” I say, smiling with excitement. I’m back. And all it took was a morally questionable night of babysitting for my boss for me to earn his respect. THE NEXT DAY TRISTAN picks up Logan and Laura and takes an early afternoon to spend some

time with them while I stay back and man the fort. Without either Tristan and Jaxon here, we all look to Hunter Braise to handle things in case of an emergency. Hunter is the firm’s family-law attorney, and he seems like a bit of a ladies’ man to me. He has one of those smiles, one that can talk you out of anything, including your panties. He’s hardworking though, always telling me that if I need his help he’s only a few doors down. “Did Tristan go home?” he asks, popping his head into my office. I nod, lifting my gaze from my laptop. “He said to call his cell phone if anyone needs anything.” “He making you do all his work?” he teases, plopping down into the seat opposite me. His blue eyes are filled with humor, like they always seem to be. I’ve never seen a lawyer with so many tattoos, but he pulls them off. I like the peek we get of them when he rolls his sleeves up. “How have you been doing with everything? I know it can be a bit chaotic when you first start, and with Jaxon gone . . .”

“It’s been different working with Tristan instead of Jaxon,” I admit, and Hunter throws his head back and laughs. “It would be. He hasn’t made you cry, has he? The last intern cried,” he says, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “You don’t seem the emotional type though. Besides, you’re not an intern; they’re actually paying you. I haven’t heard him yell at you like he did her.” “Why? What did she do?” I ask him with wide eyes. I don’t know what I’d do if Tristan yelled at me, but it wouldn’t be crying. I’d probably yell back and get my ass fired. “She was just incompetent,” Hunter says, blue eyes filled with amusement. “She didn’t have that hunger I see in your eyes, that excitement and eagerness to succeed.” I like that he sees that in me. “Well, no tears. Yet, anyway.” “Yet,” he agrees, chuckling. “If you need any help with anything, let me know. Especially when Tristan’s out of the office, if I can help I’d rather do that than have us interrupt his time with his kids.” “That’s nice of you,” I tell him. “His wife passed away a few years back, so I don’t know how he does it, to be honest. Anything I can do to help him, I’m there.” He stands and exits my office, his words lingering. So his wife did pass away. Sadness fills me at the thought of Laura and Logan growing up without their beautiful mother, and Tristan losing his wife. It must have been really hard on Tristan, and now he has to balance being a single father and a demanding career. I can’t help but soften toward him a little. Sometimes life just isn’t fair.

chapter 7 P

OWER HAS A SOUND.

And to me, that sound is the click of heels on the tiles as I step into the office each morning. Click, click, click. I smile to myself as I sit down behind my desk and open my laptop, ready to start the day. “You’re in early,” Tristan says, walking in wearing a blue suit that matches his eyes. “So are you,” I point out, glancing at the clock, which reads 7:00 a.m. He grins as he sits down. “Anne is back, so I didn’t have to drop the kids off this morning, so I’m back to my usual routine, and that includes being here early to get a head start on everything.” “I’m glad she’s feeling better,” I tell him. It’ll make things easier on him, and hopefully less stressful. “Is there anything in particular you want me to get done for you today?” “Actually, I’m going to the prison to talk to one of my clients and was wondering if you wanted to tag along?” he asks, nodding to my work pile on my desk. “Or you can stay here. Your call.” “I get options now?” I ask, ribbing him a little. “You must be in a good mood today.” Maybe he got laid. I grit my teeth as the thought enters my mind. I don’t know why, but I don’t seem to like that thought. There’s clearly something wrong with me. He’s my boss, he’s got several years on me, and he doesn’t see me like that at all. Not to mention the fact that it’s a conflict of interest. I need to bury these thoughts right now and never revisit them. He’s my boss; that’s all. “Take it or leave it, Kat” is his reply, amusement dancing in his eyes. A lock of his brown hair has fallen on his forehead, and I want to reach out and push it away.

“I’ll take it,” I tell him with a grin. “I think the prison visits are really interesting. What time are you leaving?” “Probably in about two hours,” he says, glancing at his watch. “I’ll give you a bit of warning before we have to leave.” “Perfect,” I say, standing up. “I’m going to get us some coffee.” He smirks but says nothing. I don’t know what he finds so amusing. I’m not rude, of course I’ll get him one if I’m going there anyway. I ask Yvonne and Hunter if they want anything, writing down their orders before heading out. The sunshine hits my face as soon as I step out, and I smile. It’s crazy how things can go from bad to good in such a short time, or vice versa. My phone beeps with a message from my friend Callie, but I ignore it and make a mental note to respond when I get back to the office. I wait in line and place my order. A cute barista serves me, and when he smiles at me, I wonder why I can’t be attracted to someone like him. Someone easy, simple. Someone not Tristan. Why does he have to be so good-looking though? The world is filled with good-looking men, so why does he stand out to me? I didn’t even like him when I first met him. Wait, do I even like him now? Shit. Perhaps the bastard is growing on me. Armed with four coffees I return to the office and hand them out. “Thanks, sweetie,” Yvonne says, applying lip gloss and pressing her lips together. “I’m going to need this today.” “Busy day ahead?” I ask her, wondering if maybe we all have a lot going on today. She ducks her head and murmurs, “Nope. I’m just a tad hungover.” I laugh as I head to Hunter’s office to drop his off. I don’t know who hired Yvonne, or how she keeps her job, but she’s absolutely hilarious. “Delivery,” I say with a grin after I knock on his door. “Thanks, Kat,” he says, lifting his cup out of my tray and bringing it straight to his lips. “Just what I need to survive my first client.” I smirk at his bluntness. “A bit difficult, is she?”

“Just a bit,” he groans, placing the drink on his table. “She wants pretty much everything her ex-husband has, and I keep telling her it doesn’t exactly work like that just because he cheated.” “Maybe if it did, less people would cheat,” I think out loud. Hunter grins and flashes me an amused look. “Good thing you aren’t in family law then, hey, Kat?” “Yeah, I’d probably never want to get married,” I joke. “Anyway I better give this to Tristan and get some work done. Good luck.” “Going to need it,” he says, rolling his sleeves up, exposing his tatted arms. I glance at them, a little mesmerized, before leaving in search of Tristan. “Coffee delivery, boss,” I say, placing his on his desk, in front of him. “Thanks, Kat,” he says, bringing the cup closer to him. “Jaxon called in today to check on you. I told him not to worry, you haven’t run off scared just yet.” “He was probably worried you’d make me cry,” I say, arching a brow. “Yeah, I’ve been hearing a few things.” “All exaggerated, I’m sure” is his swift reply. I don’t miss the twitch of his lip. He’s amused by his reputation? He takes a sip of the coffee and then studies me. “If you can’t work under pressure, then this might not be the right career for you. Some people have it, and some don’t.” “And do I?” I ask him, curious. “I think you know the answer to that one,” he murmurs, gaze going to his laptop screen. “You have the drive. You’re a hard worker and a quick thinker. I think you’ll do fine. Like you said, you haven’t caved under the pressure yet. No tears. And you didn’t bail when I was making you do other things I know you didn’t want to be doing.” “I didn’t have much of a choice,” I admit, then narrow my gaze. “Wait a minute, why did you make me do them? Were you testing me?” Amusement passes over his gaze. “I wanted to see if you had what it takes.” I grit my teeth and shake my head. “I bet you enjoyed every second of it too.” He doesn’t reply, just chuckles in response. Yeah, he enjoyed it all right. “This is where I want to be. I want to be the best, and I’ll only become that by learning from the best,” I tell him. “And to be honest, I actually had fun with your kids. So the joke is

on you.” Although I won’t admit this to him, I actually do miss Logan and Laura. I wonder if he ever brings them to the office, because I’d like to see their little faces. Logan’s happy one, and Laura’s consistently unimpressed one. I retreat from his office and sit back down at my desk, pulling out the Davensworth case. I want to win this case for Tristan, and I’m not going to let him down. WE EXIT THE PRISON, walking side by side until we reach his car.

“So what do you think?” he asks me. I’m not sure what to say. His client is a scary-looking man, and if I’d had to meet with him by myself, I don’t think I’d have been very comfortable. He also couldn’t stop looking at me. I get that he’s in prison and doesn’t see many women, but I’m here to help try to get him out of there, and his gawking at me until I felt uncomfortable wasn’t helping. I hid my reaction well, I think, and I kept it professional, ignoring him and listening to the questions Tristan asked and the way he interacted with him. “I wouldn’t have liked going in there to meet him alone,” I admit. “But I think I could do it if I had to.” “You did well,” he commends, opening the passenger door for me. “You didn’t look away, didn’t show any weakness. He’s harmless; he’s just obviously not used to being around a beautiful woman such as yourself.” He thinks I’m beautiful? I use my newly acquired skills to keep my expression blank when all I really want to do is blush and beam. I’ve been told that I’m pretty a lot in my life, with my dark hair and eyes and petite build, but that doesn’t mean that I’m everyone’s cup of tea. And it doesn’t mean I’d assume a man would find me attractive. I like that he does though, probably a little too much. I close the car door and wait for him to slide in on his side. When he gets in, he glances over at me and says, “Are you hungry? We can get some lunch before we head back, if you like.” “That sounds good,” I tell him, especially since I skipped breakfast this morning. “What are you in the mood for?” he asks me as he turns on the radio. “Dive” by Ed Sheeran plays, and I turn to look out the window as I answer him.

“I’m easy,” I tell him, wincing as the words fall from my lips. “I mean, I’m not fussy. Any place is fine.” “What’s with women not being able to choose places to eat?” he asks, making my head snap back to him to glare at his profile. “Clearly men can’t decide either, if they have to keep asking us instead of just suggesting a place,” I reply, pursing my lips. “Maybe we just don’t want to be difficult. What if I suggest a place across town, are you still going to take me there? Are you going to complain about it?” He surprises me by laughing. “Fine, I’ll choose the place today, and next time it’s your pick. Deal?” “Deal,” I tell him, then add in a lower tone, “As long as it’s vegetarian.” He turns to look at me, brow furrowing. “You’re a vegetarian and you failed to mention that?” I want to laugh at the incredulous expression on his face. “Nah, I’m not,” I tell him, smirking. “ I’m just messing with you.” He shakes his head at me. “Steak for lunch it is.” I grin. I love a good steak.

chapter 8 “I

DON’T KNOW IF I

could ever respect someone who orders their steak well done,” I

announce to him as we wait to order. He throws his head back and laughs at me. “That’s not going to be an issue here, Kat.” I like the sound of his laugh. Especially because now he’s not holding back. Why did he decide to let me in? To open himself to me? I’m not sure, but I think it was that moment on his couch, when I saw him vulnerable. He let me in that tiny bit, not because he wanted to but because he had no choice. I was there, and I saw what he was trying to hide, what he does hide from the world. The man isn’t invincible. He’s human, and he’s a father. He has a weakness—two to be exact—and that’s okay. He can be both: badass criminal lawyer and sensitive, loving father. Tristan Channing does it all. He can be as cold as ice or as warm as the sun—it just depends on whether he deems you worthy enough to show you his true self. He’s guarded, he’s strong, and he’s tough, but he’s also fair, and he challenges you. Pushes you. He’s everything wrapped into one delicious package. A package I unfortunately won’t be unwrapping. “So I have to ask, how did Yvonne end up with you guys? I really like her and have since the second I met her, but she’s not exactly the most . . .” I trail off, not knowing how to say it without sounding offensive. Professional isn’t the right word because Yvonne does her job well. She’s just a little . . . out of the box. “Conventional receptionist?” Tristan supplies, chuckling. “She’s good at her job; she’s just a bit of a free spirit. She does what she wants, she doesn’t even bother to try and fit the mold, but she’s the best. She keeps the place running, so that’s all that matters. We don’t care if she wears stripper heels as long as the phone gets answered and messages get delivered,” he says, then adds, “Plus, she’s also kind of . . . my wife’s cousin.” “Oh,” I say, my mouth making a circular shape. And there I go, putting my foot in my mouth. “So she’s family.” “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “She needed a job, and we needed a receptionist.”

“Right,” I say, smiling sadly at him. “Well, I’m glad she’s here, or I’d be the only woman in the firm.” “That sounds bad when you put it like that,” he says, chuckling. “Anyone else we hire I’ll have to make sure they’re female, or we’re going to look like a sexist firm.” “Exactly,” I reply. “You should hire another badass female lawyer.” I point to myself. “Someone just like me. You know I’m going to be a force to be reckoned with, right?” He smirks and lifts the menu up. “I’m aware.” “Just putting it out there,” I say, grinning as I pick up my own menu. “I always order the same thing when it comes to pub food.” “And what’s that?” he asks me, sounding genuinely interested. I like that. I like when people actually care about every little thing you say, even the stupid small things. “Steak, medium rare, mushroom-pepper sauce, fries, and a salad that must have red onion with lots of dressing on it,” I tell him. “And a Coke.” “Every time, huh? Don’t like taking risks, Kat?” he asks, placing the menu back down and studying me. “I guess you’re not much of a gambler?” “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” I tell him, just as the waitress approaches to take our order. “And no, I’m not.” Tristan orders for me, repeating exactly what I just told him, and I don’t know how I feel about that. I like that he obviously listened and remembered every detail, but ordering for me? I don’t think that’s something colleagues do. Is it something friends do? Maybe, I guess. I stay quiet, lost in thought as he rattles off his own order, then study him as the waitress leaves. “Are you much of a gambler?” I ask him, tilting my head, my chin resting on my palm. “I’ll bet on a horse now and again,” he says. “But other than that, not really. I don’t have the time, to be honest. Hunter’s more into it than any of us, but then again he’s probably the most reckless.” “I can see that,” I say with an amused grin. “I find him to be really easy to be around.” “Unlike me?” he asks with a smirk. “Yeah, he’s probably the most laid-back, I’ll admit.” “Hey, you said it, not me,” I tell him, laughing softly. “Do you remember the first time I met you, when you lost your wallet? I thought you were so rude.”

He ducks his head and admits, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. My nanny quit, the one before Anne, and I was freaking out. It’s not easy to find someone you trust to look after your kids, you know? It’s like leaving your heart with a stranger and hoping they don’t drop it. I was a bit lost in my head, in my problems, when you approached me. And I do believe I did try to make it up to you.” Ahh, crap, he had to go there. This is my fault for bringing this up. “Yeah, the coffee,” I say, looking down at my hands. “Before we knew we were going to have to work together.” I dare a glance at him, but he’s not looking at me, he’s grinning to himself instead. “Feels like a world ago now, Kat. You found my wallet and returned it; not many people would have. There was just under a thousand dollars in there, and a couple of credit cards. There was also something else in there that’s more important than money and credit cards.” “Like what?” I dare to ask him. “A letter from my wife,” he admits, clearing his throat and looking me in the eye now. “She wrote it to me when we first met, and I’ve always carried it around with me. I know it sounds stupid, but—” “It doesn’t sound stupid at all,” I tell him, meaning every word. I’m not an expert on romance by any means, but I’d call that romantic. Romantic and sweet. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, breaking eye contact. “I would have been upset if I’d lost it, so thank you.” “I was just in the right place at the right time,” I reply, shrugging and fiddling with the saltshaker. It’s weird how when you first meet someone you judge them by that one interaction when really you have no idea what’s going on in their lives. To me, Tristan came off as rude, and high-handed, but he’s none of those things. I never used to be able to see how Jaxon could be such good friends with him, but now I do. “Timing is everything,” he comments, thanking the waitress as she brings my soda and his beer. “Thank you,” I tell her, then take a delicious, icy sip. I swallow and decide to ask him something I’ve wanted to know for a while now. “How come you looked so annoyed and put off when you saw me in the law firm the first time?”

His eyes widen slightly, but I don’t miss the action. “Because after we met on the street, I kept smiling to myself. And I really wanted to take you out for coffee. But when I saw you in the office, I knew that I couldn’t cross that professional line. So I was really annoyed, not at you, just at the situation.” Oh. I swallow hard, not sure what to say to that. Lucky for me, he changes the subject. “Logan was asking about you last night,” he says, shaking his head in amusement. “It’s almost like the kid has his first crush.” “He’s so cute,” I tell him, smiling. “He’s going to be a little heartbreaker, I thought that from the first moment I saw him.” “He’s a good kid,” he says, peeling the label off his beer. “Laura struggles a little without her mom, but we’re all doing the best we can. Logan was so young when Beth passed away, but Laura remembers her. I don’t know which one is worse, to be honest.” I don’t know either. You can’t miss something you don’t remember, but then again, loving memories are worth their weight in gold. It goes back to the whole “’Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.” “I grew up without my mother,” I admit to him. “Completely different circumstances, but it was just me and my dad, and I turned out all right. So will Laura—she’s a strong-willed girl; she’s going to be a little spitfire.” “Where was your mom?” he asks me in a gentle tone. “She was a drug addict,” I explain, avoiding his curious gaze. “She was in and out of my life whenever she felt like it, but mostly out. Sometimes I’d go years without seeing her. My dad was the only constant in my life.” “Was?” “Yeah, he passed away about five years ago,” I say, pain in my chest at the reminder. “He was the manager of a restaurant, and someone held him up at gunpoint. He gave them all the money in the till, but they shot him afterward anyway.” It was a really hard time for me. My father was my rock, and without him I had no one. I still have no one. I have some friends whom I love and am close to, but that’s about it. “I’m sorry, Kat,” Tristan murmurs, sadness laced in his tone. “Is the man who shot him behind bars?”

I nod, and lift my head up. “He is.” I take a deep breath and then admit. “Actually, it was Jaxon who put him away, when he was a prosecutor. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to come work for your firm when it opened.” He reaches out and touches my small hand with his large one. “I’m sorry for your loss, and I’m glad the asshole is in prison. You’ve clearly been through a lot, but look at you. You should be proud of everything you’ve achieved all by yourself, and you’re only climbing higher.” His words are sweet, but all I can feel is his hand on mine, electricity passing between us. I lick my suddenly dry lips, my mouth parched. He shouldn’t be touching me, and I shouldn’t be liking it. It’s an innocent touch, yes, but it’s just a taste of something I’m curious about. Something I know I want, something I’ve been trying to suppress from the moment I laid my eyes on him. It’s me who pulls away first, and luckily the food arrives and provides a distraction. We both eat in silence, a palpable tension brewing between us. I don’t know what it means, but I’m going to pretend it’s not there. Ignorance truly is bliss. And so is denial.

chapter 9 I

SLIDE OFF MY PUMPS and leave them at the front door, then walk through my

apartment barefoot, my aching feet hurting with each step. It’s finally the weekend, and I get to relax and recuperate. I almost jump out of my skin when I see Callie sitting on my couch, a jug of something alcoholic on her lap, a giant straw in her mouth. “That key is for emergencies,” I tell her, but grin at the same time. She’s wearing unicorn pajamas, complete with a horn hoodie, and looks absolutely ridiculous. “This was an emergency,” she says, pointing to her jug. “I wanted to make some Long Island iced tea, but needed a few extra ingredients, and I was already in my pj’s so I couldn’t go to the store.” “But you still had to walk up to my apartment in them,” I point out, sitting down next to her and smelling the strong cocktail. “Are you sure you put the right amount of alcohol in that?” “Of course I’m sure,” she says, waving her hand in the air. “If my law career doesn’t work out, I should be a bartender. I’d be a great one.” “Well, you have enough experience,” I tease her, lifting my legs up on the table. “I’m dead. Had such a long day.” “I’d give you a foot massage if the idea of feet didn’t make me want to throw up,” she states, wide brown eyes on me. “It’s the thought that counts,” I say, yawning. “I’m surprised you’re not out and about.” Callie is a bit of a party animal. She works hard but parties harder. She loves getting all dolled up and having a night out dancing; she has a bit of a wild streak in her that many men have tried to tame, and failed. I met her in my first year of law school. We were paired together for a project and just clicked. We’ve had each other’s backs since then. “Thought I’d come and see you, it feels like we haven’t spent any time together in forever,” she says, pouting her bottom lip.

“I know,” I agree, snuggling closer to her. “Work has been hectic. How was your week?” “Same old,” she says, taking a sip of her cocktail. “I’m essentially just a well-dressed slave. I do all the filing and research, and sometimes get to sit in on a deposition. I can’t wait for the bar results so I can actually handle my own cases.” Callie scored a similar position as me in another law firm, one that specializes in family law. “Give me some of that,” I tell her, taking a sip from her straw. She definitely got the alcohol ratio wrong, because all I can taste is tequila. “I think you have a drinking problem.” “I’m a lawyer,” she says with an impish grin. “I feel like that’s allowed.” I laugh at her, then turn on the TV, just wanting to zone out. Perhaps a night in with Callie is just what I need. MY PHONE RINGS EARLY the next morning, and as I lift my head to look for it I can tell that I

drank way too much last night by the ringing in my ears and the pounding in my head. Goddammit. I find my phone under the pillow, my eyes widening when I see Tristan’s name pop up. Is he at work on a Saturday? It wouldn’t surprise me; maybe he needs something. “Hello?” I say into the line, trying to keep my voice as chirpy as possible. He doesn’t need to know I drank two jugs of some dodgily-prepared cocktail with my friend last night and that I’m now suffering the hangover from hell. He also doesn’t need to know I fell asleep butt naked and my hair is in a giant nest sitting atop my head. “Kat,” he rumbles down the line, and I can instantly tell that something’s not right. “What’s wrong?” I quickly ask, whole body on alert. “I know I shouldn’t be calling, and it’s completely inappropriate, but . . .” He trails off, and I can tell he really does not want to be calling me right now. But he is, and I need to know what the hell is going on. “Tell me,” I demand. “I’m at the hospital. Logan got a fever last night,” he starts to explain, worry clear in his tone. “He’s doing better now, but they want to keep him here to run some tests. He, uh . . . He’s, um . . . He’s asking for you.” “He’s asking for me?” I repeat, warmth filling me. I slide my feet out of the bed, getting ready to jump in the shower. I can’t show up at the hospital smelling like alcohol and bad decisions.

“Yeah, he is,” Tristan says, sounding a little sad. “He insisted, as a matter of fact. He drew you a picture and is asking me to give it to you. I know it’s the weekend, and you probably have plans or—” “Tristan,” I say, cutting him off. “Text me the hospital and room number. I’ll leave my house in ten.” I hear him exhale. In relief? “Thank you, Kat.” “See you soon,” I tell him, then hang up the phone. I quickly brush my teeth and jump in the shower, washing my body with my favorite pomegranate body wash. Drying off with a fluffy white towel, I throw it on my bed and get dressed in jeans and a black tank top. I slide on some sneakers, put some cream on my face, and grab my bag as I head out, only seven minutes later. After checking my phone, I realize the hospital Logan’s at is the one close to my apartment, so I know the way there like the back of my hand. Not wanting to show up empty-handed, I stop at a large toy store and grab him a stuffed animal from his favorite movie, Hercules, then make my way to the hospital. Once I find a parking spot, I head upstairs to his room. Knocking softly on the door, I open it when I hear Logan say, “Come in.” I step inside, smiling at the little man lying on the center of the bed, dressed in blue pajamas. “Hello, how are you feeling?” “Okay,” he murmurs, gaze dropping to the gift bag in my hands. “What did you bring?” I smile and hand him the bag. “I brought you a ‘get better’ present.” He sits up and grins. “Dad said you were going to come.” “If you want me here, of course I’ll be here.” I tell him, watching as he pulls out the soft toy and gives it a tight hug. “Thank you, I love it,” he tells me, grinning. Up close I can see that his skin is paler than usual, and clammy-looking. The poor thing must have been fighting off a fever all night. “You’re very welcome. Where’s your dad?” “Talking to one of the doctors,” he tells me. “He said he’ll be back in a minute.” “I see,” I murmur, sitting down on the chair next to his bed. “And where’s Laura?” “She’s with Anne,” Logan says, yawning. His hair is all messy, and I lean over and gently run my fingers through it.

“At least there’s a TV in here,” I say as I glance at the screen. I look to the side of his bed. “And lots of books too.” “It’s not so bad, I guess,” he replies, smiling up at me. “I drew you a picture, Kat. It’s of a cat.” He waves a piece of paper in his hand. I take it from him and smile as I see a round cat with large whiskers. “I love it,” I tell him. “Why didn’t you come back to watch more movies?” he asks, a now serious look on his face. “I was only helping while your nanny was sick,” I explain, feeling a tenderness toward him that I didn’t expect. “But maybe we can work out a time every month where we can hang out, if it’s okay with your dad. What do you think?” He nods eagerly. “I like that. Anne is boring. You’re way more fun to hang out with. You watch movies with us, and let us eat junk food, and laugh at my jokes.” “Who wouldn’t laugh at your jokes? They’re hilarious,” I say. “See,” he says, bringing the Hercules toy to his chest. “I wish you were our nanny.” “I’m not a nanny, Logan,” I tell him gently, leaning forward, my elbows on my knees. “I have the same job as your dad, but I’m new, so I need to work really hard to show everyone that I can be a good worker.” “Yeah, okay,” he grumbles, expelling a deep sigh just as the door opens and Tristan walks in. “Kat,” he says, eyes gentling as he takes us both in. “Hey,” I say to him, then look back to Logan. “Your son is telling me that I should be his nanny. Apparently I’ve made a terrible career choice.” “You have.” Logan nods, hair flopping on his face. “I don’t even know any other kids besides you and your sister,” I admit to him. “I wouldn’t know what to do with kids. I think I’d be a terrible nanny.” He shakes his head. “Nope, you’d be fun. We could build blanket forts and eat burgers.” I laugh at that. “I do like a good blanket fort.” Tristan sits on the other side of Logan’s bed and mouths the words thank you to me. I smile at him. He doesn’t need to thank me. I don’t know why Logan took such a liking to

me, in fact I have absolutely no idea, but the kid is growing on me too. I meant what I said to him. If he wants me to be here, then that’s where I’ll be. I don’t see how anyone could say no to that face. “Will you read me one of these books, Kat?” Logan asks, eyes silently pleading with me. “Sure thing,” I tell him, grabbing the one on top of the pile and opening it to the first page. I start to read and I can feel Tristan’s gaze on me the entire time. He looks disheveled, hair a mess and dressed in gray sweatpants with a black T-shirt. I’m not used to seeing him in anything other than a crisp suit, looking the part of a lawyer, but now he looks approachable. Like any other sexy-as-hell dad. A DILF, even. I think I might like him like this better than in the suits. I concentrate on the words, on Logan, and try not to glance back at Tristan again even though I can feel him in the room. Even though I want to check him out in those gray sweatpants, and maybe even drop my gaze a little to see if I can maybe see the outline of anything . . . Shit. How inappropriate am I? I’m reading a children’s book, in front of his son, who is the one who wanted me here, not Tristan, and I’m thinking about what’s underneath his sweatpants. It’s official. I’m going to hell.

chapter 10 A

NURSE BRINGS IN LOGAN’S lunch,

which doesn’t look appealing whatsoever.

Logan agrees, judging by the expression on his face. “If you need to go and do anything, I’m happy to stay here with him,” I tell Tristan, wondering if he has work, or if Laura is okay. “Are you sure?” he asks me, and I nod. I wonder if he has any other family, or anyone who gives him a hand when he’s in a tight spot with the kids, because it doesn’t look like it. “I might just go pick up Laura and bring her here so she can see Logan. I stayed here overnight last night and she’s been at home with Anne.” “Go ahead,” I encourage. “I won’t leave his side. I had nothing planned today, so I’m not in any rush to leave.” “I’ll bring you some lunch,” he tells me. “You must be getting hungry, and the café food here is terrible.” “That’d be nice.” He reaches out and touches my bare arm. “Seriously, Kat, thank you. You didn’t have to come here, and you sure as hell aren’t obligated to help, but I’m so grateful that you’re here. My family all lives across the country, so I don’t really have anyone to call when I’m in an emergency other than Jaxon, but he has his own problems right now.” “It’s fine, Tristan,” I assure him, glancing over to Logan. “He’s a great kid.” “He is,” he agrees, gently squeezing my arm before putting some space between us. “I’ll be back soon, Logan. I’m just going to pick up your sister and get some food.” Logan glances down at his plate and says, “Can you bring me some too? Because, Dad, this looks . . .” “I’ve got it covered, son,” he says, kissing Logan’s forehead. “I love you. Kat is going to stay with you, so look after her for me, okay?” “Of course,” he replies, grinning up at his father.

Boom! That sound? That’s the sound of my ovaries exploding. I didn’t even think I liked or wanted kids up until this moment, but Logan makes it hard to not want to have another three just like him. Tristan smiles at me on his way out, and I wait until he leaves before I turn to Logan. “I wonder if they sell board games at the gift store.” I don’t want to leave him alone though, even for ten minutes, so I ask a passing nurse if it’s okay to take him with me to the gift store and back. “No problem,” she tells me. “It’s just one floor down, so I don’t see why not.” “Great,” I tell her, then look to Logan. “Come on, I’m going to carry you down one flight of stairs, and then we’re going to choose a few games to play.” “I vote for Connect Four,” he says, smiling and sitting up. He lifts his arms for me to carry him. “Are you sure you can lift me? I’m heavy, and you’re kind of small.” I’m a little on the petite side, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to lift him. “Well, I’m going to try.” He stands on the bed, and I lift him into my arms. “I think I can manage,” I tell him as he wraps his arms around me. “You ready for this little adventure?” “Yep,” he replies, sounding cheerful. “I’m ready.” We leave the room, him holding on to me for dear life, and me doing the same. It’s a moment I don’t think I’ll ever forget. “I WIN,” I TELL Tristan, a smirk playing on my lips. “It feels so good to beat you at something,

even if it’s just Connect Four.” “How do you know I didn’t let you win?” he asks, arching a brow at me. He then turns to Laura and winks at her. “I let girls win sometimes, don’t I, Laura?” She rolls her eyes. “It’s true. I’ve caught him letting me win before, and I told him not to do it. It’s a little condescending.” Laughter escapes me. “That’s hilarious, but that’s not what happened this time. I won, fair and square, and now I have bragging rights.”

“Clearly a humble winner,” Tristan mutters under his breath, but he can’t deny the amusement in those blue eyes. He enjoys our banter, and I think he likes the fact I’m not a delicate little flower. I like to give him shit and tease him. I like to be playful, and I like that he gives that right back to me. “Okay, now it’s my turn to play the other Channing male,” I declare, grinning at Logan. “You’re going to try to beat a sick six-year-old? You’re funny, Kat,” Laura pipes up, giggling. I smile at her. “Hey, Logan wouldn’t like it if I let him win, would you, Logan?” “You aren’t going to win,” he declares, rubbing his hands together. “I play this game at school and I win all the time.” “My skill level surpasses those of your school friends, buddy,” I tell him, laughing as he rolls his eyes at me. I glance up at Tristan, and our gazes lock, something passing between us. Maybe we’re both acknowledging the moment, I don’t know, but it’s hard for me to look away. I want to get lost in him instead. I smile softly, and he winks in return. Logan then tugs on my arm, and I give him my full attention. “Okay, okay, enough talking. Game on, buddy,” I challenge. He wins. But only because I let him. “I’D WALK YOU TO your car,” he says, looking a little sheepish. “But I can’t leave them alone in

the room.” I put my hand up. “It’s fine, I think I’ll survive walking to my car and opening my own doors this one time.” He chuckles and steps closer to me, looking down at my face. “You were amazing today, I don’t know how to thank you enough.” “You don’t need to thank me,” I tell him, ducking my head, suddenly feeling a little shy. I don’t know how this happened, how I ended up here, but I did. Never did I think I’d be spending the day feeling a part of a family I just met. My boss’s family. The boss I didn’t even

think that I liked, but now I think I like too much. I never did take any easy paths. “If you need me, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll see you on Monday.” I turn to leave, but he takes my hand and stops me. “Kat, I—” “Yes?” I ask, stepping closer to him. So close that our chests are almost touching. Almost. He reaches down and cups my cheek, then kisses my forehead, the casual brush of his lips sending shivers down my entire body like an electric shock. I can’t help it: I lean into him. I wish I could melt into him, but I don’t. He’s just thanking me for being there for him and his children today. When he lets go of me, I smile up at him and turn to leave the hospital. When I get home I get a message from him. Did you get home safely? I reply with a simple yes, and then climb into my bed and bury my face in my pillow. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I need to accept Tristan as my boss, and now, as a friend, and I need to block any ideas about anything more. I don’t know why I just want to touch him, lean into him . . . run my fingers along his biceps, reach up and stroke the stubble on his cheeks. Shit. I have a crush on him. And I need to learn how to stop it, and quickly. I don’t even know what it is about him. I have terrible taste in men, and this just proves my theory. He’s my boss. And now I’ve allowed myself to get close to his kids. I groan loudly, feeling sorry for myself and suddenly in a bit of a sulky mood. I need to suck it up, distance myself, and get my mind back on track. I’m here to make my dreams a reality, to reach my goals, and I don’t need to be getting distracted right now. Eyes on the prize. And I can’t let the prize change from my career to a man. This is all I’ve ever wanted, I’ve put so much importance on becoming this person, on it giving me a purpose. When I was growing up, I’d dream of the successful woman I’d become.

My father told me I could do anything, and I was determined to make him proud. It gave me the strength to push through, to thrive. I may not have had a mother growing up, but my father was amazing, and I don’t only owe it to myself, but I owe it to him to achieve my dreams. I can’t give up my dream for anyone. Even for a man, for the man. I could have both. Yeah, as if that’s going to work out. New rule: no more thoughts of Tristan. I fall asleep with that being my last coherent thought.

chapter 11 I

SIT AT MY DESK, tapping my pen on my notepad over and over again.

“Is everything okay?” Tristan asks me as he enters my office, coffee for me in hand. “You look pensive.” He’s in another gray suit, and this one fits him just right. I try to keep my gaze locked on his, but that doesn’t help any. His eyes are what drew me in, and now I need to pretend like I don’t want to get lost in their depths. “Thanks,” I say, smiling as he places the cup down in front of me. “I just found out something about the Davensworth case, and I’m not really sure what to think of it.” He takes a seat and studies me. “Try me.” “His biological father was his boss,” I start. “And Brenton knew that, which is why he took the job. He’s way overqualified for that position anyway. He wanted to be near his dad; maybe he was curious, or something.” I take a deep breath. “His half brother worked there too. So he’d have to watch his dad and brother be a family while he was just a stranger.” “You don’t think he took the money as some kind of revenge plot?” Tristan asks. “No, I actually don’t,” I admit, tilting my head and narrowing my gaze. “I have a theory here, and it might be a stretch, but I think that Jerry, his brother, found out about Brenton and framed him. I think he siphoned the money into Brenton’s account so it looked like he was the one stealing.” His expression is almost comical. “How exactly did you come to that theory?” “I researched the brother, and not only does he have a criminal record and from what I can tell a shady character, he also knows Brenton is his half brother and has decided not to say anything about it. Probably because, according to marriage records, their dad was still married to Jerry’s mother when Brenton was born. He cheated on Jerry’s mom and that’s how Brenton was conceived, then given up for adoption. Acknowledging him would have meant admitting that his father wasn’t faithful.” I had a look online and found some pretty incriminating posts.

Tristan’s eyes are wide as saucers at this point. “This could be a soap opera.” “I know,” I admit, taking a sip of the still-hot coffee. “I just need to find the paper trail that proves Jerry could have been the one secretly transferring the funds, and then I have proof of his motive. I also need to speak to the father and let him know the truth, and hope he withdraws his claims.” “You’ve done well,” he says, looking impressed. He shakes his head. “I didn’t think you’d have solved one of the cases so fast. Perhaps I need to increase your workload.” “Ha-ha,” I chime, rolling my eyes. “How’s Logan this morning?” “Much better,” he says, smiling back at me. “Hospital let me take him home yesterday, and he’s as good as new. I kept him home from school today just because I don’t want him to do too much too soon, but the doctor said he’s fine now. It was just an infection that got the best of him.” “I’m glad,” I say, exhaling in relief. “Now he needs to never get sick ever again.” Tristan laughs, his dark eyelashes fanning his cheeks as he looks down into his cup. “You’re telling me. He loved having you there, Kat. I don’t think you know how much it meant to him. He never gets attached to anyone, and I’m really surprised how quickly he grew fond of you.” “Me too,” I admit, making him laugh. “He’s probably the only child I’ve ever been around. I would’ve thought I’d be terrible with kids, but apparently I’m not too bad.” “The kid adores you,” he states, pushing the chair back as he stands. “I’m going to be in court all day. Do you want to come with me, or have you got too much work here?” I’d love to go with him, but do I really need to be spending the day watching him kick ass in the courtroom? No. I probably shouldn’t be around him any more than I have to. “I might just stay and catch up today,” I tell him. “Not to mention, Callum’s in today and he wanted me to help him with something. Rain check?” “Sounds good,” he says, stopping in the doorframe. “Call me if you need anything.” “Will do.” “And, Kat?” he asks, making me lift my head up again. “Yes?” He opens his mouth to say something but then shuts it, like he changed his mind. He settles for “You look nice today,” then walks off.

I look nice? I glance down at my black blouse and then back at the door. He’s never commented on my appearance before, besides the one time he called me beautiful, which I replay in my head more often than I’d ever admit. Not sure what to make of this, I push his comment out of my head and get started on my work. I’m furiously typing up a report when Callum walks into my office with a box of doughnuts in his hands. “Hungry?” he asks, placing the box on my desk. “Always,” I reply, opening it and pulling out the first one my fingers touch. “You’re late.” “I know,” he replies, taking a doughnut and all but eating it whole. He licks his fingers as he says, “I was going to get you to help me with that research analysis from the Fredricks case, but now Tristan told me to come to court with him. I think he needs a lackey.” I stop chewing for a second. Tristan is taking him to court? Because I said no? Maybe he actually needed help and I turned him down because of something borderline petty. Feeling bad, I swallow the rest of my mouthful, then finish the treat before saying, “I can help you with the analysis next time, or if you return before the day is over, then.” “Sounds perfect,” he murmurs, taking another doughnut and then pushing the box toward me. “I better get going. Feel free to finish these.” He disappears, and once again I’m left alone with my thoughts about Tristan. Apparently trying to distract myself from them is going to be a little harder than I thought. Hunter stops by my office, eyeing the doughnut box. I grin and slide it toward him. “Callum brought them in. Help yourself.” Yvonne steps in too, bright yellow heels today, and grabs a doughnut in each hand. “When Callum leaves, someone better step up and start bringing food in.” “I vote Kat,” Hunter pipes up, doughnut falling into his beard. Because of his comment, I decide not to tell him. Let the doughnut grow moldy right under his eyes. “Hey, if I pass the bar and get to stay here, I’ll bring in whatever you want,” I say with a smirk. “I don’t even care what it is. Coffee, doughnuts, pastries, meth. You name it, I’ll bring it in.” Hunter starts choking on his doughnut as the word meth leaves my lips. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, then starts to chuckle. “I like you, Kat.”

“I’m glad,” I tell him in a dry tone, saving my work, since I’m not being very productive right now with these two making my office their home. “Perhaps you should put in a good word for me with Tristan and Jaxon, then. I’d like to make partner one day.” “They see all,” Hunter creepily replies. “And trust me, both of them like you. I don’t know how you got Tristan to like you, but he does. You must be some miracle worker.” “He’s not so bad,” I defend, but then wish I kept my mouth shut as a speculative look passes on his face. “I know,” Hunter replies, blue eyes studying me a little too intensely for my liking. “He’s a good man, but he can be blunt, forward, and come off as rude. I think once you get to know him, it’s worth all the effort it took to get to that place.” “He really is a good man,” Yvonne agrees, and I realize that until this moment I forgot the admission Tristan made about her being his wife’s cousin. “He treated my cousin like an absolute queen, even when she was difficult, which was a lot.” She says it fondly, smiling. “And yeah he can be hard to work for. I remember when I first started here he didn’t care who I was, he was hard on me and made sure I did my work, but that only pushed me to be better.” Apparently today has turned into Tristan Appreciation Day. These little testimonies aren’t helping my resolve to stop thinking about him. I don’t want to hear how amazing he is, or how well he treated his wife. I’d rather hear about some complaints. Maybe one day he walked in wearing an awful printed suit, or something like that. The office phone rings, so Yvonne heads out to answer it, while Hunter adds in his two cents before leaving himself. “He likes you,” he announces, a contemplative expression on his face. Three words, that’s all he says, but they’re enough to make me want to call Callie and ask her what the hell I’m meant to do in this situation. Do I just pretend everything is fine, and ignore this . . . thing between us, or should I push for a taste of it so I can see for myself if it’s real or if it’s some forbidden thing that I’m wanting because I want what I can’t have. Shit. I need a lock on my office door.

chapter 12 “T

HANK YOU, MRS. REEVES,” I say, hanging up the phone and making a note about my

meeting with her tomorrow. After a long-ass day, I can finally go home. I pack up my desk and slide my heels back on from under the table. I’m definitely never wearing these shoes again because my feet are absolutely aching. I leave my office with my bag in hand, saying ’bye to Yvonne before walking to my car. When I see Tristan and Callum pull up, I wave. I guess it wasn’t just me who had a long day. I get into my car, but when I try to turn it on it doesn’t start. Shit. I realize the battery is dead because I forgot to close one of the doors properly. I rest my forehead on the steering wheel and close my eyes. All I want is a scorching-hot shower and my bed, maybe something to eat. I’ve done enough adulting today. My driver’s door opens and I turn my head, temple now on the wheel, and glance up at Tristan and Callum. “Rough day?” Tristan asks, grinning. “What makes you say that?” I ask, forcing a smile that I’m sure comes out more like a grimace. “Come on, I’ll take you home,” he tells me, offering me his hand. I take it and let him pull me from the car. “I’ll call roadside assistance for you, they can change the battery.” “I can wait here,” Callum offers, glancing at his watch. “I’m going to do a little work before I head home anyway.” “Are you sure?” I ask him, handing him the keys. “I owe you big-time.” He waves away my words and heads inside, while Tristan calls roadside. I go sit in Tristan’s car until he joins me. “Are you okay?” he asks me, studying my profile. I nod. “Just a little tired today.” “All right, let’s get you home then.”

I tell him my address and he puts it into his GPS. The drive there is quiet, but not uncomfortable, and I realize the reason I’m so grumpy right now is because I can feel a migraine coming on. I close my eyes and just rest. I hope he doesn’t think I’m being rude, but at this point my head is starting to hurt more with every second that passes. I must fall asleep, because next thing I know I’m being carried out of the car in his arms, my cheek pressed against his chest, my arms wrapped around his neck. “What number is your apartment?” he asks me, gently rubbing my back as he steps onto the staircase. “Twenty-eight,” I tell him, closing my eyes again. When he comes to a stop, I lift my head, needing to grab the key from my bag. “I’ve got it,” he tells me, pulling it out of my bag with one hand and unlocking the door. He closes it behind him, then carries me to my bedroom and places me on my bed. I cover my eyes with my arm, needing some aspirin and darkness. I feel my shoes being removed, and a gentle touch on my feet. “I’m sorry,” I murmur to him. “My head hurts.” “I can see that,” he tells me. “Do you have any aspirin here?” “In my bag,” I say. He’s at my side a few moments later with two pills and a bottle of water from my fridge. “Thank you.” “What else can I do to help?” he asks me, sounding concerned. I lift my head to swallow the pills, our gazes joining. “Nothing, I just have to wait until it goes away. I haven’t had one in so long; I forgot how awful they are.” He turns and closes my blinds, darkening the room, then sits on the side of my bed and stares down at me. “I don’t want to leave you like this.” “The kids will be waiting for you,” I remind him, closing my eyes and blindly reaching out with my hand until my fingers touch his arm. “I’ll be fine; it’ll go away eventually.” He brings my fingers to his lips and kisses them. I all but stop breathing. Then he kisses my palm, and then my knuckles, and that’s when I know I’m in trouble, because maybe Hunter is right. He does like me.

I flutter my eyes open and look into his and say, “What are we doing?” He drops his gaze. “I don’t know.” “I didn’t say to stop,” I whisper, so with a lip twitch, he brings his lips back to my knuckles one more time, and then he lets go of my hand and places a kiss on my cheek, on my jaw, and then finally, a sweet, gentle one on my lips. That’s all I remember before sleep and pain consume me. I WAKE UP TO the sound of the TV on, my migraine gone, and still in my work clothes.

Assuming Callie let herself in again, I sit up, rubbing my forehead, and walk into the living room. When I see Tristan there, casually dressed and smirking at the screen, I come to a stop. Remembering the events before I fell asleep, I walk to him and sit down next to him, leaning my head on his chest. A line has been crossed, and now it’s all blurred, but for once I just want to act how I want to with him, instead of restraining myself or feeling the need to “talk it out.” His arms come around me, and I breathe in his spicy scent. “How are you feeling?” he asks me in a deep rumble. He pushes my hair off my neck, and I smile, unable to believe I’m here right now, in his arms, like we do this every day. Like there’s nothing wrong with us showing affection. “Much better,” I tell him, studying him. “You went home and then came back?” He nods and tucks my hair back behind my ear. “I sorted the kids out, had a shower and changed, then asked Anne if she can stay overnight. I didn’t want to just leave you like that, Kat. You were out of it.” “Thank you for looking after me,” I tell him in a soft whisper, and I know we’re both playing a very dangerous game right now. I want him to kiss me—I mean really kiss me—but I don’t think we can come back from that. “Don’t look at me like that, Kat,” he all but growls. “Like what?” “Like you want me to do everything I’ve been daydreaming about doing to you since the second I first laid eyes on you.” I gulp and then boldly say, “What do you want to do to me?” “Kat,” he warns, gaze dropping to my lips. “I don’t know what you want me to do here. Be strong and deny this thing between us, or be weak and let us both have what we want.” “For once in your life, Tristan, be weak.”

That’s all it takes, because in a split second his lips are on mine, and his hands are in my hair as he pushes me back onto the couch, taking control, giving us both what we need. He tastes so good, like spearmint, and his mouth knows exactly what it’s doing against mine. I run my hands down his back, then lift up his T-shirt to feel the muscles there. How many times have I thought about touching him but never thought I’d get that chance? And now he’s in my apartment, kissing me, leaving me breathless. He presses a kiss to my ear, then moves down my neck, and I gently dig my nails into his back. Neck kisses are my weakness, and I’m about to beg him to do a whole lot more than just kiss me. His lips find my collarbone and explore before trailing back up along my neck to my lips once more. “Tristan,” I plead, although I have no idea what for. This is wrong, yet nothing has ever felt more right. I’ve never wanted anything more. My head is all cloudy, dazed, as if I’m already lost in him. I can feel how hard he is against me, but he does nothing other than kiss me, taking his time, learning me. “Fuck, Kat,” he grits out, pulling away and looking down at me. The look he gives me is all-consuming. It’s filled with lust and want, those blue eyes telling me without words how badly he needs me right now. But when I look deeper, buried beneath all of that is uncertainty. If we had sex right now, would he regret it? Because I can’t think of anything worse than that. He gets off the couch and starts to pace. I guess his conscience is starting to fight against the hardness of his cock. “Tristan,” I murmur, sitting up and fixing my top, which was exposing the slight curve of my upper breast. He sits down next to me and turns to me. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I don’t know what it is, but I haven’t thought about a woman so much since . . .” Since his wife? The air thickens, tension building between us at his words. I don’t know what he wants me to say, so I go with honesty. “I want you.” There, I said it. “I like that you can’t stop thinking about me, and I like it even more that you finally admitted it.” I reach over and rest my hand on his thigh, then glance up at him. “And I like your kisses and the way that you taste, and I want more.”

“I’m essentially your boss,” he exclaims, closing his eyes as my fingers start to wander. “I don’t think this is what Jaxon wanted me to be teaching you.” “Who said you’d be teaching me anything?” I ask with a raised brow. “Maybe it’s me who can teach you a thing or two.” He makes a growling sound deep in his throat, his eyes snapping open. I move to my knees in front of him and touch the button of his jeans. “Yes or no. Are you in, or are you out, Tristan?” I don’t know who has more to lose here. Yes, he’s in the higher position, but his career is set in stone. Mine however isn’t; I’m a nobody, and if this got out it could ruin my reputation and career. How would it get out though? The only people who will know are us, and neither of us is going to say anything. Besides, he owns the firm. Well, half of it anyway. He leans down, grabs my nape, gently pulling my head by the back of my hair, and kisses me. It’s a possessive, deep kiss that sends tingles right to my lower belly. I’m going to take that as a yes.

chapter 13 H

IS HANDS COVER THE span of my lower back and gently run up my spine, lifting

my blouse up with them. I let go of his face to allow him to pull my top off, which ends up on my carpeted floor. I undo the button of his jeans, then slowly pull the zipper down while looking into his eyes, the only sound in the room our heavy breathing. He lifts his hips and helps me remove his jeans, leaving him in just a pair of black boxers. I can’t help but stare. His cock looks so big straining against the cotton, and I lick my lips before taking it out in my hands, loving the feel of him, velvet over steel, so hard and soft at the same time. I stroke him a few times, enjoying the little growling sound he makes before taking him into my mouth and sucking the head. He has the biggest penis I’ve ever seen in real life, and I hope I can do this right and drive him crazy with my tongue and my mouth. I move my mouth down, until I’ve taken as much of him into my mouth as I can, hollowing my cheeks and sucking hard. He twines his hands in my hair, pulling gently. “Kat,” he half whispers, half rumbles. “Fuck, that feels so good.” His words encourage me, and I deep-throat him until my gag reflex kicks in and then I retreat. He gently pushes me off him, losing patience with me, and lifts me in his arms. He carries me to my bed and all but throws me on it, then pulls down my pencil skirt and panties. Spreading my thighs, he stares down at my pussy and then back up at me, his eyes a darker blue than I’ve ever seen. When he lowers his head, his tongue peeking out to taste me, I moan and arch my back. It’s been a while since someone has gone down on me, and for it to be him . . . I don’t know how much of this I’m going to be able to handle. I’m so on edge, so turned on, I can literally feel how wet I am for him, how badly I want him to fuck me, and how desperately I need to come. I’m in nothing but a navy lace bra, and I pull the straps and cups down, wanting him to touch me there too. He takes the hint and lifts one hand up to pinch and play with my nipples, all while his tongue works his magic, sliding in and out, then up to my clit to nibble, play, and suck.

“Tristan,” I moan, letting go of his hair and grabbing on to the thin white bedsheets, clasping them in my palms. “I’m going to come.” He sucks harder on my clit, which sends me right over the edge. My thighs start to tremble, the pleasure spreading outward from my lower belly down to my thighs and legs. I take deep breaths, little mewling sounds escaping me as wave after wave hits me. “Oh my god,” I whisper to myself, moaning louder as he slides a finger inside of me. I slam my head back against the pillow, licking my suddenly parched lips. As I come back to myself, I glance down at him. His face is still between my legs, his eyes on mine. I don’t feel shy, even though he’s right in front of my pussy, because he’s already seen everything I have to offer. “That was amazing,” I tell him, my voice scratchy and hoarse. “You’re amazing,” he returns, flashing me a wolfish grin. I force myself to sit up on my knees and kiss him, tasting myself on his lips and not caring. I wrap my arms around him and he lifts me up, so I also wrap my legs around him as he stands. “I want you to fuck me,” I tell him boldly, kissing down his jaw. He turns and sits on the bed, me straddling him. He’s still hard, and I grind myself against him. “Remove them,” I demand, sick of his half-on, half-off boxer shorts that are still in the way. For what might be the first time ever, he listens and removes them. Finally, with nothing between us, I take his length into my greedy hands and place him at the entrance of my pussy. Without a word, he slowly starts pushing himself inside of me, inch by inch, as we look each other in the eye and watch each emotion play over our faces, each show of pleasure. I bite my bottom lip when he’s fully inside of me, and slowly start to rock my hips. “You feel fucking perfect,” he tells me, voice husky. He kisses me, hands cupping the globes of my ass and squeezing tightly. I start to move faster, quicker, deeper, wanting him to come, to feel the same pleasure that he gave me only moments ago. He feels so good inside of me, so full. Tristan rolls me over onto my back, taking control of the situation, thrusting into me, his mouth now kissing down to my breasts, licking and sucking my nipples. When he gently bites down on them, I whimper loudly, unable to stop myself. “Like that, do you?” he asks against one of my nipples, before sucking it back into his mouth with an audible pop. I don’t bother answering because he knows it’s true. Apparently I enjoy just a tiny bit of pain with my pleasure. He rolls onto his back so I can ride him, my breasts bouncing up and down with each movement. He licks his finger, then starts to roll my clit with each thrust I make, and I start to lose control once more.

“Fuck,” I whisper to myself, letting my head hang backward on my neck, arching my body to give him more access to the most sensitive part of me. “Tristan,” I plead, as I feel another orgasm approaching. This time though, he comes with me, jerking his hips up as he finishes inside of me. When we’re both done, I all but fall onto his chest with him still inside me. He places a sweet, soft kiss to my temple and then another to my forehead. As reality hits me, I realize just how much things have changed because of our actions this evening. I slept with my boss. He slept with his associate. And now we’re still going to have to see each other every day after this, work together and pretend like this never happened. I know it’s not going to be easy, but I want to do this again. With him. Over and over again, as a matter of fact. Does he regret it? I’m too scared to ask. “Are you okay?” he asks me, kissing my earlobe, making the hairs on my skin prick up in a good way. “You’ve gone deathly quiet.” “Just enjoying the moment,” I tell him, glancing up at him. I press a kiss onto his neck and then another onto his mouth. “Maybe I should get migraines more often.” He chuckles and then kisses me again. I can’t keep my hands off him, and it seems like the feeling is mutual. “Do you have to go home?” I ask, hoping he can spend the night in my bed but understanding if he can’t. He has children, and they have to come first. “I’ll stay for a few hours, then head home,” he tells me. “But I’d stay the whole night if I could.” I smile against his neck. “Well, I guess we better make the most of the time we do have, right?” “Yep,” he murmurs, rolling over so he’s on top of me. “Are you on the pill?” I nod. “Probably should’ve asked me that before you came inside of me.” “Wasn’t exactly thinking right in that moment,” he says with a grin. “I believe you had me a little distracted, Katerina.” “Full naming me, hey,” I tease, wrapping my thighs around his tight ass. “Are you distracted now? If not, I think I’ll need to try a little harder.”

“Don’t think I can get any harder right now.” He grins, then slams his lips down on mine. Fuck. He’s hard again. So soon. I smile against his lips.

chapter 14 “W

HY ARE YOU SMILING so much?” Hunter asks, examining my face. He turns to Yvonne.

“Have you ever seen her smile so much?” “I’ve never seen anyone smile that much,” she says to me, giving me a curious look. “You know who else was smiling today?” She and Hunter exchange a look. “No fucking way,” Hunter exclaims, head turning to me. “Really?” Goddammit, there is no way they could have guessed this after being around me for twenty minutes. So much for keeping this one a secret. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell both of them, looking them in the eye in turn. “Are you speaking in a language I’m not familiar with? Because I’m lost right now.” “Going to play that card, are you?” Hunter asks, amused. “You and Tristan have been circling each other since you met, don’t even try to deny it. And I don’t know why you won’t just admit it; it’s not like we care if you two are fucking or not.” I glance at Yvonne out of the corner of my eye. Hunter might not care, but she was his wife’s cousin. Surely she would care. I push my chair out and stand. “I’m going on my lunch break.” “Bailing from an argument? How un-lawyerish of you,” he huffs, arching a brow. “You just made up a word,” I point out. “What’s going on in here?” Tristan asks, entering my office and glancing around. “Team meeting I’m not invited to?” “That’s because it’s about you,” Yvonne pipes up, blowing a bubble with her gum, then popping it. Tristan exchanges a quick glance with me, then turns to the two of them. “What’s going on?”

“Kat keeps smiling,” Yvonne says, smirking. “For no reason. And when you walked in to work today, you were humming and also smiling.” “And? Are we not allowed to be happy in this workplace? Are you a fucking dementor now, Yvonne?” I smirk at the Harry Potter reference. “Look, we just both want you two to admit that you had sex, that’s all,” Hunter says, sounding put out, like if he doesn’t hear the truth he’s not going to survive. “We’ve been watching the two of you; we’ve felt the tension, the awkwardness; and we’ve even seen both of you purposely avoiding each other, and people only do that when they hate each other, they want to fuck each other, or both.” Yvonne nods. “We’re just as invested as you are.” I rub my forehead, feeling a headache brewing. “I’m going to have my lunch. You guys can tell me whatever you come up with upon my return.” As I walk past Tristan our arms touch, and I have to stop myself from rubbing my bare skin. All I want to do is jump in his arms, and tell them yes, he’s mine, now leave us alone, but with the situation we’re in I don’t think it’s the best course of action. I trust Hunter and Yvonne, don’t get me wrong, but this is my career that hangs in the balance. I’m not admitting to anything. I don’t know what Tristan is going to tell them right now, but seriously, how nosy can they get? Apparently they notice everything. I wonder if they check the cameras or something. They probably saw me sneaking around so I wouldn’t have to bump into Tristan. I cringe at the mere thought. At least Callum isn’t here, because I’m sure he’d have something to say about this too. I was going to bring Tristan something to eat in his office, because I know how busy his day is today, but now if I do that I’ll never hear the end of it. Maybe I’ll just pretend it’s all for me until the coast is clear. Apparently this is what my life has come to, sneaking in food for my boss whom I slept with last night. How the mighty have fallen. “THANKS,” TRISTAN SAYS AS I place the chicken salad and milk shake on his table. I sit down

and wait for him to finish the phone call he’s on so we can chat.

“All right, I’ll see you next week,” he tells the person on the other end before hanging up and giving me all his attention. “You bought me lunch,” he says, smiling. “Thank you.” “You might not get time to eat otherwise, your schedule is ridiculous today,” I say, ducking my head when he doesn’t take his eyes off me. “What happened with the little office meeting?” “I told them to mind their own business or they’re both getting fired,” he says, the smirk on his face telling me it’s all a bluff. “Just ignore them. They want gossip, but we don’t have to tell them anything. Did you eat?” It’s easy for him to say, because he’s the boss. I can just imagine what people would say if they found out. They’d say I was using Tristan to further my career, and that’s how I got my position. They will belittle all the work I’ve done and all the work I’m going to do to be where I want to be. Legally we’re not doing anything wrong, but it’ll be frowned upon. I nod. “Yeah, I ate in the café. I needed a little air away from the peanut gallery. Seriously, do I never smile? How did they even figure it out from me just smiling?” “Kat,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Don’t let them get to you. Did you sleep well after I left last night?” I nod, even though it’s not exactly true, because I slept much better when he was in bed with me. “Good,” he says, taking a sip of his chocolate milk shake. “How did you know I like these?” “I’ve seen you walking around the office with one in your hand a few times,” I reply, shrugging. “I remember thinking it was cute, a badass lawyer with a chocolate milk shake in his hand.” He puts it down with a grin and then turns to me. “You look beautiful today.” “Thank you,” I reply, hand rising to my cheeks. “I have no idea what we’re doing here, Tristan.” “Well, we’re going to go to court today and kick ass, and then after that I’m going to take you home with me, and we’re going to have dinner with the kids. And when they fall asleep, I’m going to take you into my room and go down on you until you’re screaming my name.” I open my mouth and then close it. “Did you just say that?” He nods.

I purse my lips and stand. “Fine, but I want to sit on your face.” I ignore the laughter I hear on my way out. “KAT, LOOK WHAT I made at school today!” Logan waves a painting in my face, showing it off

excitedly. “How cool is it?” “Very cool,” I reply, taking it from him and inspecting it. “You should be an artist.” Tristan is in the kitchen cooking us dinner. I don’t know what he’s making, but I’m perched on the couch with Logan and Laura, my feet up and a glass of red wine in my hand. I told Tristan that I don’t mind cooking, or we could even order something in, but he insisted. I personally think he’s just trying to show off his domesticated side. Apparently Tristan is a man who can do it all. Dominate in the courtroom, bedroom, and kitchen. If he’s not careful, he’s going to be stuck with me. “How was your day, Laura?” I ask the blue-eyed beauty. She’s got her phone in her hand, although I don’t know why she has one at her age. My dad would’ve laughed in my face if I had asked for one, but I guess we live in a different time now. “Good,” she says, lifting her head up. “I got chosen as volleyball captain.” “Congrats,” I tell her, impressed. “I played volleyball as a kid, and I loved it.” “I’m outside hitter,” she says proudly. “Awesome,” I tell her. “Maybe one day I can come and watch one of your games.” “Okay,” Laura says, offering me a smile. “That would be cool. My friends want to meet you.” She’s been talking about me to her friends? Surprise fills me. Laura was always the one a little hesitant, a little unsure of me. I think it’s because she doesn’t know whether it’s a betrayal to her or not. I remember when my father dated I would feel the same, and my mother left by choice. So her telling her friends about me means a lot. “I’d love to meet your friends, Laura,” I tell her, smiling, warmth filling me. I’m in a bit of a tricky place right now. I don’t want to act like their stepmom or anything along those lines. I mean, geez, Tristan and I only became a thing last night, but at the same time, I’ve already spent time with them and care about them without having anything to do

with Tristan. I want to be how I was, friends with them, and I don’t want to cross any lines or make it look like I’m trying to insert myself into their lives when that’s not the case. “I’m coming too, then,” Logan announces, flashing a wide smile at me. “You’re too charming for your own good,” I tell him. He winks at me, then starts laughing. “Did you just wink at me?” I ask, eyes going wide. “Are you flirting with me, Logan?” He smiles and wraps his arms around me. “What does flirting mean?” “It means that you’re trying to charm me and get my attention because you like me,” I try to explain to him. “Well then, yes, I’m flirting with you,” he says, and my heart melts. I give him a tight hug, and then stand up. “I’m going to check on dinner’s progress.” And refill my wine.

chapter 15 T

RISTAN MADE MY FAVORITE meal, the steak one I told him about at the restaurant

that day. He even made a perfect mushroom-pepper sauce. Seriously, where did this man come from? “It’s better than the one I ate that day,” I tell him, moaning as the soft beef hits my tongue. “I swear there’s nothing you can’t do, Tristan.” “Braid my hair,” Laura suggests, taking a bite of one of her fries. “Or let me talk to boys without losing his temper.” “Let us eat junk food,” Logan offers, grinning at his dad. “Or sing. He can’t sing at all.” I can’t stop laughing as his kids continue to bring his flaws to light, or at least, his flaws in their eyes. “Thanks, guys,” Tristan tells them, shaking his head. He turns to me and adds, “See what you started?” “I didn’t start anything,” I deny, winking at the kids. “I’m just sitting here, enjoying this delicious meal and minding my own business.” “You mind your own business as much as Yvonne and Hunter do.” He smirks, looking down at my plate as I all but destroy everything on it. “Do you want another steak?” I shake my head, eyes going wide. “No, thank you. It was amazing though. If I eat anything else I think I’ll explode.” We all finish up dinner, and Tristan gets the kids’ bedtime routine sorted while I clean up the kitchen, then hang out in front of the TV. Both kids come to say good night and give me a hug, which I find really sweet. As soon as they’re both fast asleep, the atmosphere instantly changes. I turn off the TV, and with my glass in hand, move toward his bedroom without checking to see if he follows. He does, of course, and I strip down to my bra and panties and lie back on his huge bed, my eyes telling him that I’m in the mood to play.

He strips off his T-shirt, and I allow myself to take my time exploring his muscular body with my eyes. He has a perfect build. Toned chest and his abs are perfectly defined. I want nothing more than to trace them with my tongue. He looks younger than his thirty-one years, more fit than even I had expected. Last night was surprising, exciting, and mind-blowing, but I never got to really take my time and explore every inch of him. Now’s my chance. My gaze locks on his deep V indentures and then to his cock, which is still covered by basketball shorts. He truly is an incredible man. He could be on the cover of a fucking magazine if he wanted to, but instead he has a high-power career and completely dominates in his field. On top of that, he’s also an amazing father and completely dotes on his two children. He should be so proud of himself. He removes his shorts next, leaving him completely naked before me. “Do you know how sexy you are?” I ask him, shaking my head. “It’s hard to believe you’re real.” I put my glass down on the side table and slide my feet off the bed. Standing in front of him, I place a kiss on the center of his smooth chest and start to kiss down his abs, tracing the ridges with my tongue, then following them with my fingers. Sitting back on the bed, I take his cock in my hands and glance up at him, locking eyes as I take him into my mouth. He steps back from me, my hands dropping. “Lay back,” he demands, stroking his own cock in front of me. I force myself to look away and do as he says. “Good girl,” he praises. “Now spread those thighs for me.” I spread my thighs and lift my head to see his expression. He’s looking in between my legs, as if mesmerized, kind of like how I was only moments ago. I decide to tease him how he did me, and reach between my legs and start to play with myself, stroking my clit and then sliding a finger inside. “Fuck,” he growls, and begins to stroke himself faster, then closes the space between us, gently pushing my hands away and replacing them with his mouth and tongue. I gasp, spreading my thighs even further, lifting my head to watch him as he pleasures me. He rolls me over onto my stomach and lifts my hips up so I’m all on fours, licking me from behind for a few moments before sliding inside me in one smooth thrust. I bite down on his bedsheets and push back against him while he starts to move inside me, harder, faster. Then he starts to play with my clit, driving me crazy with need. I could fuck him forever and never

tire of it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so comfortable with a man so soon. He pulls out of me, lays his head back on the bed in between my thighs and pulls my hips down so I’m sitting on his face. His index finger lazily slides over my back entrance, while his tongue works his magic. It feels so good, and it’s not long until he makes me come, once, twice, and then a third time with him inside of me. Tristan Channing is the definition of a gentleman in the streets and a freak in the sheets. WHEN YVONNE STEPS INTO my office, an odd expression on her face, I get a bad feeling.

“What’s wrong?” I ask her, standing up. Is this about Tristan? Maybe she’s upset to see him with another woman, even if it’s just gossip and hearsay at this point. I don’t want Yvonne to hate me—she’s been kind to me since the first day I walked in here. Tristan and I have been together for a few weeks now, and I guess it would make sense that everyone knows the truth. “There’s a man here to see Tristan,” she says, frowning. “He’s not in, but I think we need to call him in.” “What does the man want?” I ask her, wondering if it’s some type of emergency. She shifts on her feet but doesn’t give me an answer. “Can you call him and tell him?” I nod. “I’ll tell the gentleman to wait,” she says, exiting the room swiftly. “Okay,” I say, wondering what the hell this could all be about. I pick up my cell phone and call him. “Was just thinking about you, beautiful” is the first thing he says into the line. “I was thinking I could take you out on a proper date tonight. Anne will stay back with the kids. How does dinner and a movie sound?” “It sounds perfect, but, Tristan, where are you right now? Can you come into the office?” I ask, trying to keep my tone even to not freak him out. I don’t even know what this is about, and I don’t know how serious of an issue it is. “I’m about ten minutes away, was just going to the prison,” he tells me, his tone turning worried. “I can come there now. Is everything okay?” “I don’t know,” I admit, taking a deep breath. “Yvonne just said there’s a man here to see you and that you should come.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, but then says, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” We hang up, and I can’t help but step to the reception desk to see what this man looks like. “He’s on his way, Yvonne,” I let her know, then sneak a glance at him. He looks to be in his early thirties, with blond hair and green eyes. He’s fit, he obviously takes care of himself, and he’s well dressed too, wearing slacks and a shirt. Just who is this man? Without any other excuse to stick around, I walk back to my office and sit down, tapping my foot on the floor, hoping that this isn’t something that will upset Tristan. Is this man a client of his? What else could it be? What feels like hours later but is only about twenty minutes, Tristan returns. He comes into my office and closes the door behind him. “Is everything okay?” I ask him, standing up and rushing over to him. “What was it?” “I don’t know yet,” he says, pulling me into his embrace. “I told him to wait for me in my office, I just wanted to see you first.” His lips are then on mine in a gentle yet hungry kiss, one that distracts me a little from the current situation. When he pulls away, I’m left feeling dizzy. “I’ll be back,” he murmurs, leaving the room. I sit down and try to get some work done. It’s hard though, when I have no idea what’s going on in the other room. I have no idea what this could be.

chapter 16 W

HEN TRISTAN LEAVES WITHOUT so much as a word to me, I know something is

wrong. “What happened?” I ask Yvonne, worried. “I don’t know,” she murmurs, biting her lower lip. “The man said he needed to see Tristan, it was very important and involved Logan.” “Logan?” I repeat, fear slithering inside my body. “Is Logan okay?” Now I start to panic. I grab my bag and get ready to call it a day early. I don’t care who knows what from my actions, but I need to make sure Logan and Tristan are okay. I get into my car and drive straight to his house. Rushing to the door, I knock hard a few times. Tristan answers, and from the look in his eyes I can tell one thing. He is not okay. “What happened? Is Logan all right?” I ask, trying to look behind him to see if he’s here. “He’s okay,” he assures me, stepping aside so I can come in. I see Logan sitting on the floor playing with tiny toy soldiers, and I sit down next to him, laughing when he looks up and notices me, and then gives me a big hug. Tristan must have pulled him out from school early today. “Hey, buddy,” I tell him, arms around him. “Nice to see you again so soon.” “Hey, Kat,” he says, letting go of me and handing me a toy. “You can play with this one.” “Awesome,” I say, glancing up at Tristan, who is watching the two of us. I play with him for a little while and then step into the kitchen, where Tristan is staring out the window. “Will you please tell me what happened?” I ask in a gentle tone. “Do you know how much I loved my wife, Kat?” he starts, and I look down at his words and let him continue. “I loved her so much, I never even looked at another woman. And after she passed away, you’re only the second woman I’ve been with. I’m not the type to sleep around, and she was the only one I ever wanted.”

I don’t know what this has to do with today, but I let him finish. “I put her on a pedestal. I didn’t think I’d ever love again, I thought that was pretty much it for me, that my time with her was all I’d be given, and I’d begun to accept that.” He takes a deep breath and turns to the side to look at me. “The man who came to the office today claims he slept with her. That she cheated on me with him.” My eyes widen in shock. What the fuck? His next words break my heart, so I can’t imagine what they’ve done to his. “He says that Logan is his.” I still. Everything inside me freezes, and for a few moments all I feel inside and out is icy coldness. I rub my chest, hoping the pain there will go away as I ask, “What proof does he have?” “Photos of them together,” he says, tone emotionless. “Letters. Emails.” “That doesn’t mean he’s Logan’s father,” I say, lifting my chin. “Does he want to do a DNA test?” He nods. “He wants one, yes.” The way he says it makes me ask, “But you aren’t going to give him one?” Tristan shakes his head. The man could apply to the court for them to make an order for the DNA test, if he has enough evidence and reasoning. That can take some time though, especially if he’s going up against a man like Tristan. Still, it’s inevitable that Tristan would eventually have to give the man what he wants, even if it’s in a year’s time. “Are you sure you don’t want to know right now?” I ask him in a small voice. “No,” he says harshly, shaking his head. “Logan is my son, Kat. It doesn’t matter either way. So this Franklin Thompson guy can prepare for war, because he’s not going near Logan.” He faces the window again, and I hug him from behind, offering him silent support in the only way I know how. Not only does he have to deal with the fact that Logan might not be his, he’s also fighting his past, now knowing that the woman he married was unfaithful to him. A hard hit no matter how much time has passed since she’s been gone. Memories, damaged.

Questions—now unanswered. And as for us, how are we going to make it through this? Long-lasting, deep relationships probably wouldn’t survive something like this, so what chance do we have? Tristan and I only just found each other. We don’t know everything about each other yet; we haven’t had a lot of time together. How are we going to pull through this one? And why does our first obstacle have to be such a mountain? “Tell me what you need me to do to help, Tristan,” I ask him. “I just . . . I just need some time alone to think, Kat. I need to sort my head out. I’m not going to be good company right now,” he tells me, stepping out of my reach. He wants me to go. He’s pushing me away. I’ll give him that . . . for now. “Okay,” I say, stepping to him and giving him a peck on the lips. “If you need anything, anything at all, give me a call,” I tell him. “I’m here for you, no matter what, Tristan.” He nods but stays quiet. I say ’bye to Logan, get in my car, and go home. Alone. How things can change in such a short time. TRISTAN TAKES THE REST of the week off work, and I try to pick up the slack as much as I can.

Why do I feel like the weight of the firm is on my shoulders? Thank God for Hunter. Tristan doesn’t call me, message me, or return my emails when I contact him. He’s trying to cut me out, push me away. His wife betrayed him, and now I’m paying the consequences. I shouldn’t even call her his wife anymore, because she’s not even here. She’s just a ghost that seems to still be haunting him, first in a good way, and now in a bad way. And Logan . . . what if he isn’t Tristan’s biological son? He’s still his, either way. But I don’t see how this can end without someone getting hurt. How come this man took so long to come forward with this information? I’d ask Tristan, except he’s clearly avoiding me. He needs time, and I’m going to give him that, for another few days at least, but then I’m going to push my way back in. I miss him.

I miss his kids. I even miss working with him, something I never thought I’d say. I just hope he finds his way back to me, and if not, I guess we were never meant to be in the first place. “I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU smile since Tristan left,” Hunter tells me, brow furrowing. “Everything

will be okay, Kat. This is just a bump in the road.” “Biggest speed bump I’ve ever seen,” I grumble, glancing down at my phone, which has been extremely silent. “Tristan’s having a rough time, but when he comes out of it he’ll realize that he shouldn’t have pushed you away,” he tells me, sounding certain. “I’m helping him with everything, so don’t worry too much. Just hold on. Besides, there’s no way he can get someone hotter than you.” A small laugh escapes me. “I don’t know, Hunter. He’s just isolating himself. He doesn’t want me around him, and it’s such a new relationship I worry that it might be a little too easy for him to close the door on it, you know?” Maybe he wasn’t as invested in me as I was in him. I don’t know. In an effort to avoid it, I’ve been throwing myself into work. We won the Curtis case, which was the case that I pretty much handled entirely on my own. Between Jaxon being gone and Tristan MIA, it all fell on my shoulders. And then there was the Davensworth case. Once we told his biological father the truth, he dropped the charges against Mr. Davensworth, and his son admitted that he had framed him. And that was all me. I’m proud of myself, and I know Jaxon is super proud of me, but why does it feel like something is missing without Tristan? “If you truly believe that then maybe he’s not the one for you,” Hunter says, my hopes plummeting. “However, I think the two of you will sort it out. Tristan hardly likes anyone, and, Kat, he’s crazy about you. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” I force a smile. “Thanks, Hunter.” “No problem. And thank you for finally admitting that the two of you are fucking,” he says, grinning and walking out of my office while whistling. I cover my face with my hands and expel a deep sigh. Before, my deepest worry was that everyone would find out and I’d have to fight for my place in this industry, but now my

deepest fear is that I’ve lost Tristan. I don’t care who knows. I just want him back.

chapter 17 H

E COMES INTO MY office, and I’m surprised to see him. I didn’t know he was

coming back to work today, and I sure as hell didn’t expect him to come see me. It’s been a whole week without any contact, not so much as a text message, and now he’s standing in front of me and I’m not sure what to say. “Hey,” he says, walking over to my desk. Do I hug him? Kiss him? I don’t know, so I don’t do anything. I sit there and wait for him to say something else. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. I wasn’t really on my phone much; I kind of went off the grid. I took the kids away for a few days, we went camping.” “Sounds nice,” I say, forcing a smile. Before, I would have been invited too, but now I’m not part of the family anymore. Still, this isn’t about me, it’s about him and it’s about Logan. “How are the kids?” I ask him, closing my laptop and giving him my full attention. “They’re good,” he says, nodding. “Logan doesn’t know about anything, so . . .” He trails off and then clears his throat. “And they had a great time going away. What have I missed while I’ve been gone?” Work? He wants to talk about work right now? Is he just going to ignore the fact that he forgot about me? Pushed me away? Because the elephant in the room isn’t going to leave until it’s addressed. “Nothing big,” I tell him, staring up at him. Just my heart breaking. “I heard that Franklin applied to the courts for the DNA test.” Tristan nods but says nothing else, so I don’t push. “Thank you for coming to see me,” I tell him, even though it feels so weird between us now. I don’t know what to say. I hurt for him, but I’m also a little bit upset with being pushed aside. Why won’t he let me be there for him? Doesn’t he get that when he hurts, I hurt too?

He can’t make me love his family and then take them all away from me, himself included. It just doesn’t work like that, and I don’t know how to fix it. Does he even want to fix it? Yvonne comes into the room. “Tristan, your client is here, do you want me to tell them to wait in your office?” He nods. “Yes please, Yvonne.” She leaves, and we’re left alone and speechless again. “Can we talk later?” he asks, reaching his arm out, but then he drops it. “Sure,” I say, nodding. He leaves, and I exhale. I don’t know how we’re going to fix this, but I want to. So that means something, right? He just needs to understand that I’m in this with him. I care about those little kids, and I’m falling in love with him. If he doesn’t want me, it will be better to know now than later on. But I’m not going down without a fight. I’M WALKING TO MY car after work when he calls out my name. I turn and then he’s in front of

me, his familiar scent filling me, consuming me. “We need to talk,” he says, cupping my cheek with his hand. I remove his hand from my face. “You’re pushing me away,” I tell him before he can say anything else. “You gave me you and your family, brought them into my life, and then when shit got tough, you took them all away. I’m either in or out, Tristan. I know you’re going through something really hard right now, but I want to be there for you. I don’t want to be on the outside looking in, especially if you’re in pain. I want to be there with you, during the good times and the bad. And if you want to be with me, you don’t get to choose when I’m in attendance.” I take a deep breath, and wait to hear his opposing statement, but all he does is tuck my hair back behind my ear and say, “I’m sorry.” I open my mouth, then close it. “You’re . . . sorry?” He nods. “I shouldn’t have shut you out. I’m sorry. You’re right, and thank you for giving me time alone to work everything out in my head.” I lick my lips. “So you still want us?”

I hold my breath as I wait for his answer. “Of course I want us, Kat. What we have between us, it’s worth fighting for; I know it in my gut. I just needed to clear some things in my head, things that didn’t have anything to do with you.” His wife. He kisses my forehead, then my nose. “Come home with me. Logan and Laura have been asking about you, and the house hasn’t been the same without you in it.” “What are we going to do about the Logan thing?” I ask him, pressing my body against his. “He’s going to get the DNA test.” “We will handle it when it happens,” he tells me, kissing the top of my head. “I don’t want to think about it today, I just want to hold you, and fucking thank you for picking up my slack while I’ve been gone. Yvonne and Hunter told me all the work you’ve been doing. Basically covered my ass, Kat.” “I’m a ride-or-die chick,” I say, making him chuckle. The sound is music to my ears. We go back to his place, and I get hugs from both kids. “Kat,” Laura says, wringing her hands together. “I missed you.” “I missed you too, sweetie,” I tell her, giving her a warm hug. “And you’ve cut your hair— it looks beautiful.” “Thanks.” She beams, sitting on the other side of me. “Is Dad cooking again?” “Yep, he insisted,” I tell her, then whisper, “I suggested pizza, but he needs to look after his body, you know.” She laughs. “Healthy food is important to him.” We watch Hercules and then all have dinner together. In the back of my mind I have to wonder what will happen if Tristan ever pushes me away again. The closer I get to all of them, the more it will hurt, the harder it will be. But what’s life without a little gamble? And I can’t think of anything more worthy to gamble on than love.

chapter 18 Three Months Later

I

LOOK DOWN AT THE envelope in his hand, my nerves getting the better of me. I

feel like I’m going to be ill. We’ve been waiting for this moment for what feels like years, but in reality has only been a few months. I can’t imagine how Tristan feels right now, the emotions that must be swarming him. He’s so strong, and I’m so proud of him and how he’s been handling everything. He rips open the envelope, pulls out the piece of paper, and reads it. When I see the pain that transforms his face, I know the news isn’t good. “Logan is his,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I can’t believe it.” I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest, trying to stop the tears that are threatening to explode all over his T-shirt. He doesn’t deserve this. Why do bad things always happen to good people? We hug each other, silently, absorbing the information. I can only imagine how much this hurts, the fact that his wife had an affair in the first place, and that he’d been lied to all along. On top of all that, he now might lose the kid he loves as his own, the one he raised from birth. I don’t know what to say or do, because nothing will fix this, but I will be there for him, his strength and his support. “It doesn’t matter what the results said, Logan is your son,” I tell him, shaking my head. “It’s not over yet, Tristan.” “I know,” he says. He moves to stand between my legs and cups my face with his hands. “I can’t lose him, Kat. I don’t care whose son he is on paper,” he says, his voice catching on the end. “I raised him; I taught him everything he knows. He’s a part of me.” “You won’t lose him,” I promise him, kissing his forehead. “We will face this together, the legal hurdles, everything.” He rests his head on my breasts and closes his eyes. “Tristan?” I murmur.

“Yes?” he asks, lifting his head. “We will win.”

epilogue T R I S TA N Three Years Later

A

S ALWAYS, WHEN LOGAN leaves with Franklin, it hurts. No, it kills. But he is his

biological father, and he deserves to know him, even if it’s still me he calls his dad. He lives with me full-time, and I have officially adopted him, but Franklin has him one weekend of every month. It was a good outcome for me, because if he’d fought harder for more time with Logan, I don’t know who would have won in court. Courts tend to favor the biological parent, and I don’t like to think of the possible outcomes. Luckily for me, I think Franklin saw how much I loved Logan and knew this was the best thing for him. I also think he didn’t want to drag the court battle on, something Kat and I would have never given up on. “He’ll be back, love,” Kat says, smiling at me kindly. She’s wearing her business suit and looks sexy as hell, as always. She’s been such an asset to the firm, and I’m sure in no time her reputation will outshine mine and Jaxon’s. She’s a spitfire, with a heart of gold and the beauty of a goddess. She’s the love of my life. It’s funny how things work out, and I’m just thankful that we both took a chance on each other. After we made it public that we were together, we made sure it was known that she worked under Jaxon and not me, so there wasn’t any real conflict of interest. “Are you ready, Dad?” Laura asks, all dressed up for her monthly daddy-daughter date. “Ready,” I tell her, wondering when she became so beautiful. She looks just like her mother, but with my eyes. She’s growing into such a strong young lady, and I know that has a lot to do with Kat’s influences. I lean down and kiss Kat on the lips, then offer my daughter my arm. She takes it with a smirk, and I lead her to my car and open the door for her. She’s going to know how a man

should treat her by the way she gets treated by me. Normally we’d be seeing a movie, or Laura will get her nails done while I wish she chose something else to do, but today is different. Today, we’re picking out the ring I will use to propose to Kat. “You sure you’re ready, Dad?” she asks as we climb in. “Never been more sure, princess.” We share a smile.

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chapter 1 JAXON

A

BODY HAS BEEN FOUND,

dumped in the river waterfront, said police. Dental

records show that it’s the body of Officer Darren Melvin who has been missing for the last two years. I lift my head from my book and watch as the camera zooms in on the river where the man’s body was found. I’ve been following this case ever since Officer Melvin went missing about two years ago, and now that they’ve found his body, the case can finally be classified as a homicide. I listen as the news reporter explains how Melvin had been shot in the head and how his body would’ve never been found if the city hadn’t decided to gentrify the waterfront park, something that has been a hot topic of late. I think I’ve been so interested in this one because my best friend is a cop and he’s always given these crazy, dangerous ​assignments—Melvin’s death could have just as easily been his. My friend and I have worked on a few things together before, but it feels like a long-ass time since I’ve seen or even thought about him. I’ve taken some time off work, but I don’t think it’s what I need. I should be burying myself in work, taking case after case, not leaving any time for my mind to wander. I glance at the marble-framed photograph on my bookshelf, studying the dark-haired beauty with green eyes. I’d give anything to see those green eyes again. My attention is brought back to the TV screen. Yeah, an idle mind is the last thing I need. I need to keep busy, distracted. I don’t need to think about anything other than work. I don’t need to remember. Melvin’s wife, heiress to Reyes Industries, Scarlett Reyes, has been charged with his murder, and was taken into custody after police found the same type of gun that killed Officer Melvin in her home. . . . My phone rings, and I’m not surprised.

I’m one of the most sought-after criminal lawyers in town. I’m not bragging; it’s just a fact. So when my partner, Tristan, tells me that Scarlett Reyes has requested a meeting with me, it’s not a shock. “Are you going to take it?” he asks, and I can just picture him in his office, leaning back in his chair, eyes gleaming at the prospect of this controversial case. Our firm is known for taking on high-profile cases, we usually don’t turn down opportunities like this. “I know you’re meant to be taking a break, but I thought since she requested you . . .” “I want to speak with her first,” I tell him. “And consider me officially off my break.” “Are you sure?” he asks. “What you’ve been though, Jaxon—” “I know, Tristan, but sitting here isn’t helping. I need to keep busy,” I admit. He takes a deep breath, then continues. “This case is going to be huge, Jaxon. It’s going to be all over the media, and it might get messy. But if you win this . . . fuck.” If I win this case, my reputation as a criminal attorney will rise even higher. I’ll be sought after—more than I already am—and I’ll be paid whatever I want by those willing to do, and pay, whatever they need to escape prison time. But do I want this case? Normally I wouldn’t have a problem defending someone whether they were guilty or not. But this case is different. Do I want to defend a woman who has potentially killed a cop, one of my best friend’s brothers? I won’t be able to decide until I meet her and see what she has to say for herself. I want to hear her side of the story. I’ll be able to get a good read on her if I’m there in person. And if she admits that she did kill her husband . . . I don’t know what I’ll do. “There’s no question it’ll get messy,” I tell him. “But it’s a challenge. . . .” I know that shouldn’t be the basis on which I accept a case, but damn, I like to be kept on my toes. I like to push myself, test myself. I like seeing how far I can bend the law in my client’s favor. “You do enjoy a good challenge,” Tristan murmurs, amusement lacing his tone. “I’ll handle the bail hearing. It’ll give you time to look at the case and see if you’re ready. I guess I’ll be seeing you soon then.” “I guess you will,” I say, and then tell him good-bye. I look back at the photo, my chest suddenly getting tight. I don’t have it in me to put the photo away or cover it, but every time I look at it, it hurts. It physically hurts.

I absently rub my chest and stand, then head into my bathroom to have a quick shower, knowing I have to go to the office to do some reading. Once I’m ready, I glance around, looking for my keys. I keep my gaze down, making sure not to look in the direction of the photo. I find them next to my wallet on the kitchen counter, grab both of them and head outside to my car. I don’t need any more time off. I have a prospective client to meet.

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about the author Chantal Fernando is the New York Times bestselling author of the Wind Dragons Motorcycle Club series and the Maybe series, along with several other novels. She lives in Western Australia, where she is working on her next book. Find her online at AuthorChantalFernando.com, and on Twitter and Facebook. FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR: Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Chantal-Fernando MEET THE AUTHORS, WATCH VIDEOS AND MORE AT

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Pocket Star Books An Imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020 www.SimonandSchuster.com This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2017 by Chantal Fernando All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020. First Pocket Star Books ebook edition September 2017 POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc. For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-5061949 or [email protected]. The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com. Cover design by Richard Yoo Cover image © Serge Krouglikoff/GettyImages ISBN 978-1-5011-7235-9