Page 21 of Broken Boss

“You wanted these, Mr. Sharpe?”

Looking up from the pile of documents on my desk, the breath literally leaves my body.

Autumn is all business—her hair swinging at that severe angle, a tailored black blazer downplaying her curves, high-waisted trousers tapering above her hips.

She looks every inch the serious lawyer. But her eyes—those almond-shaped eyes will never be as severe as the rest of her.

“Yes,” I say automatically, no idea what she’s holding in her hand. “Thank you.”

She steps into the office without looking away from me. There it is again—that distrusting narrowing of the eyes, as if she inherently doubts me. It makes my heart sink. I must’ve done something…but what?

Maybe she wanted me to say no that night in the car. Maybe it was some kind of test.

This woman, though, will only ever hear the word yes from my lips. Especially if she’s stroking my thigh the way she did that night.

My cock twitches to attention and I banish the thoughts from my mind, standing to take the padded package from her. It’s almost weightless, all paper and bubbles. I look to her with a questioning expression.

“The video from that day.” Autumn’s done is direct, sure, professional. It’s Monday and everyone has left the building already, but the line she’s drawing is clear. I’m her boss.

“Ah. Thank you.”

Slipping the package next to my laptop, I turn my attention back to the copy of the police report on my desk. A headache is already throbbing at the edges of my temples.

Cases like this drain me. But I’ll stay as late as I have to tonight until every ounce of information is absorbed.

I’m not letting this guy walk away from what he did.

It takes me a moment to realize Autumn is still in the room. Her scent, that toasty vanilla, eases the ache in my skull. When I glance up, her eyes meet mine.

“Is this…?”

She reaches toward the desk, hesitates.

I nod and she picks up a sheaf of papers.

“Marie Waters.”

I let out a deep sigh at the girl’s name. It’s been all over the news for days now, ever since she accused her chorus teacher of sexual assault.

It’s easy to see Autumn is curious, I just don’t have it in me right now to indulge her interest. All day, people wander by my office—those who know I’ve taken on the case—and gaze in as if they’ll get answers to their questions.

Did he really do it?

Why didn’t she come forward sooner?

What if she’s lying?

“The teacher is Reid McCarty, right? But I don’t see…”

Her eyes sweep the desk again, confused.

“Oh, I don’t have anything from his side of the case yet. Still waiting on the courier.”

Autumn’s eyebrows raise as it hits her.

“You’re representing the girl, then?”

“Of course I am.”

---