Page 22 of Broken Boss

There’s a tense moment where we stare at one another. It’s obvious she expected me to be defending the villain, and a wave of bitterness sweeps through me.

Only…now that severe look is gone.

Those almond eyes are more open. They blink slowly and I’m lost in them all over again. All I want is to reach across the desk, draw her in, and drown out a day’s stress with her plush mouth.

“Can I…?”

“Of course.”

Autumn sits down with the papers in her lap and an intense gaze. She’s in work mode.

“You should go home, Miss Cavendish. It’s late.”

“Mmm.” The case has obviously caught her attention, and I’d give anything to know what thoughts are brewing in her head. “Frank will be okay until I get home.”

My heart stutters to a stop in my chest.

Frank?

Is that a boyfriend? A lover?

Miss Cavendish. She’s not married, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t another guy in the picture. My face gets hot, red bleeding into my vision as I try to process this information.

“I was reading about the case this morning on the train. McCarty’s team is taking the stance that she has no real parenting, no guidance, right?”

Cracking my neck and clearing my throat, I try to focus on the task at hand. Whatever Autumn gets up to in her life outside of work isn’t my concern.

Not unless she tries to climb in my lap again.

“Yes. Marie’s mother left the family when she was a toddler. Initially, Mr. Waters filed a missing person report—but it turns out his wife was having an affair. Reporters found her before the police did, and she made some scathing remarks that were seen by a lot of people. It was an embarrassing situation. And unfortunately, one that gives McCarty’s team a shot at theorizing that Marie has only had negative influences when it comes to relationships.”

“Relationships.” Autumn spits the word out. “This wasn’t a relationship. It was what—two years—of assault?”

“Oh, I know. But that’s not what McCarty is saying.”

“Either way, she’s fifteen. She was fourteen when it started, if you can prove that.”

Unlocking and pulling open my desk drawer, I take out a pink and blue floral diary. Place it on top of all the paperwork. “I can prove it.”

Autumn’s eyes light up in that way I recognize, the way all lawyers’ do when they know they have good evidence.

“She wrote about it?”

“She did. Vaguely at first, but then in more detail. It’s unmistakable—this all started happening about a month and a half after her fourteenth birthday.”

The disgusted look on Autumn’s face makes me smile flatly.

“Yeah. That’s about how I’ve felt since I offered to pick up the case.”

Her eyes snap up, that curious, intense look in them again. “Since you offered…?”

“Mr. Waters has been on disability for the last few years after an accident at work. He’d never be able to pay for the kind of lawyer he needs.”

“So you’re doing this pro bono,” Autumn murmurs.

The way she’s looking at me stirs something inside.

There’s still a longing in me to stand up, lean over the desk, and let that mouth pull me into oblivion.

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