Page 82 of Her Boss

Lillian blew out a breath, fixing Rick with a solemn gaze. “It went well. I need to go draw up the agreement, and get it back to Ellison this afternoon, but yeah… we dodged a bullet today.”

Rick tensed, and I laced my fingers with his in support. “How long?”

Lillian seemed confused for a moment, her long, pretty lashes fluttering. Drinking from her coffee, the tiny pink tip of her tongue licked a drop of the liquid from carmine-painted lips. “No time. Like I said, we got lucky.”

Rick’s mouth fell open, and inside I cheered wildly. Amazingly, I was able to keep it all bottled up, knowing it was what Rick would want.

He’d never liked silly outbursts from me, no matter the reason. Regardless of how justified they might have been.

Rick prized obedience and stoicism perhaps above all else.

It was one of his most appealing qualities despite—or perhaps because of—how alien it was to a girl like me.

“I don’t… how the hell did you get that from him?”

Lillian shrugged. “Hell if I know. But I’m taking it—and running with it at light fucking speed.” She took another sip, shaking her head. “I have to get going.”

Stanton strode out into the hallway then, his phone pressed to an ear, his medium gray suitcoat draped over one forearm, his white dress shirt snug and well fitted, tailored perfectly for the man’s tall, rangy build.

She pointed to Rick with a finger from the hand holding her coffee. “Just… say yes. Okay? You’re not going to get a better deal.”

“Yes to what?” Stanton’s deep voice called out.

Lillian rolled her eyes, but glanced at Rick. “He wants a word. I’ll call you later this morning?”

Rick nodded slowly. “Yeah… okay.”

He still seemed in shock.

Lillian inclined her head toward Stanton. “Counselor…” Then she walked off briskly, her high heels clacking against the marble, her shapely hips rolling in the clutch of a black skirt probably a trifle tight for district court.

“What’s the catch, Ellison?” Rick looked down, grunting softly, a bitterness in his tone. “I mean you have me. Dead to fucking rights. You know it. I know it.”

Stanton dropped his phone into the breast pocket of his shirt. “Two reasons.” He held up a pair of long fingers, the light of the morning sun glinting on the silver of the man’s rich cufflinks.

Good money in government lawyering, apparently.

Stanton continued. “First—my brother.”

Rick’s eyes squinted. “Will? How the hell is he involved in this?”

“He isn’t. Or, he wasn’t—until he called me.”

“Who the ever-loving fuck does he think?—?”

“Listen, Trafford.” Stanton took a seat on the polished wood bench on the other side of Rick.

I gripped him even tighter, hoping to reassure him. Just when things seemed darkest, I dared hope—if only a little—that we might get out of the horrible shitstorm of the past week relatively intact.

Maybe.

“Before you start planning your half-baked revenge plot against my brother, you need to hear this. Are you listening?”

“Yeah… yeah. Fine.” Rick’s tone was seething, but he managed to keep his cool. Barely.

Don’t blow your top on this. Please, Rick.

“The only reason you aren’t sitting in county right now waiting for your initial court date is Will Ellison. My brother and I may not always see eye to eye. Hell, we almost never do, actually. But he’s the best judge of a man I’ve ever known. And I’ve never, ever heard him speak of anyone as highly as he does you, Mr. Trafford.”

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