Page 12 of The Perfect Bargain

My fingers pause in their relentless dance through my dark, short hair. Twenty missed calls light up my phone, a glaring reminder of the chaos I navigate daily. Leading this crew and studying law is a relentless marathon. Somewhere along the line, I lost track of why I started this race and who or what I was sprinting to or from.

The sudden, rich timbre of a voice cuts through my reverie, pulling me from the digital sea of demands.

“Knock, knock.” It’s not Carmen’s voice that fills the space now, but one infinitely deeper, smoother, and unmistakably male.

I glance up, and there he stands — Matthew Brooks, a figure so starkly different from the woman who occupied that doorway moments ago. His presence, unexpected and imposing, shifts the room’s atmosphere entirely.

“Who’s there?” I shoot back, my tone betraying nothing of the surprise that has my eyes widening just a fraction. There’s an intensity in our gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the unexpected twist he’s just added to my unpredictable day.

“Your five o’clock,” he quips, a hint of amusement in his voice as he strides in, shutting the door with a quiet click that seems to echo in the suddenly charged atmosphere. The deliberate turn of the lock doesn’t escape my notice.

“Matthew, what’s this about?” I press, my brows knitting together in confusion. Clients don’t just pop into my world uninvited, not without a plan, not without notice. And certainly not Matthew Brooks, who gets a blow job while typing up his closing statements; he is a man with no time to spare, and yet he was here, in my office.

“I got your e-mail,” he declares, his tone matter-of-fact, yet I sense an undercurrent of something unspoken. His presence here speaks volumes; whatever prompted this visit couldn’t be resolved with a simple click of the ‘reply’ button.

“And?” I probe, my curiosity piqued as he remains silent, his gaze fixed on me with an unsettling and intriguing intensity.

“How does this work?” His question slices through the tension, and he steps closer, his approach deliberate. A smile tugs at my lips, not just at the content of his query but at the irony of our reversed roles. Here I am, ensconced behind my desk, the usual dynamics upended. Now, he’s navigating unfamiliar territory while I sit in the seat of power, watching the hunter become the hunted.

“Spell it out for me, Matt. You’re diving deep into the mystery zone here.” My words are tinged with a casualness that I reserve for very few, and Matthew’s earned that over the years. He’s not just a client; he’s a chapter in my history, one of the first names in my book of this double life. Yet, his unannounced presence here is a first, a deviation from our well-worn script.

He pauses, his eyes lighting up with admiration and something akin to surprise. “Your test scores, Ava, they’re off the charts. And your papers? Your research?” He pauses, mimicking an explosion with his hands, a grin spreading across his face. “I knew you were sharp, but this? You’re not just playing in the league but defining it.”

His words hang between us, a new kind of acknowledgment that shifts the familiar ground I’m used to standing on with him.

“Keep talking,” I urge, a playful smirk dancing on my lips. Matthew’s no novice; he’s well aware of the effect he has as he closes the distance between us, his approach deliberate, almost predatory.

“I want you on my team,” he declares, a statement so unexpected that my eyes shoot wide in genuine shock. But then he adds, “I’m not willing to cut all ties here, though.” His presence is commanding as he leans in, one hand coming up to gently tilt my chin, ensuring I catch every nuance in his gaze. “So, tell me, Ava,” he says, each word measured, heavy with implication, “how do we make this work?” His simple yet loaded question hangs in the air, a challenge laid bare for me to decipher.

Navigating the murky waters of Matthew Brooks’ proposition has me on edge. I get the gist— he’s angling for a package deal, brains and body, expertise, and… extracurriculars. But, my aspirations, the grind through law school, weren’t aimed at just enhancing my profile in this shadowy industry.

The offer on the table should’ve been my ticket out, a segue into the legit, the above-board. But here he is, blurring lines I’d drawn firmly in the sand.

“I’ll take the job,” I state, holding his gaze, “but let’s skip the benefits.” His eyes, so familiar with every contour of my form, sweep over me. There’s a history here, a rhythm to ourinteractions that’s as natural as breathing, yet I’m about to disrupt the melody.

He clucks his tongue, a playful rebuke, his fingers drifting from my chin to trace my lips, a gesture meant to quiet any protest.

“Ava, Ava, Ava,” he murmurs as if my name is a mantra, “why settle for just a slice when you can have the whole pie?”

“I’m not greedy,” I assert, my words muffled slightly by his proximity, his thumb still lingering at my lips, but he grins wider, seeing right through me.

“Well, that’s not exactly true, is it?” he counters, his tone teasing yet pointed, challenging my stance with the ease of someone who knows me all too well.

“I know what I want,” I declare firmly, willing myself to stand my ground despite the doubt gnawing at the edges of my resolve.

“Do you?” he challenges, his voice low and dangerous, a predator circling its prey. “Or are you simply afraid to admit it?” I scoff.

My laugh is sharp, a quick release of tension. “Fear isn’t in my vocabulary, Matt,” I retort, though a sliver of doubt whispers inside me. But I’m not about to unravel my facade, not here, not in front of him.

When I think I’ve got the upper hand, Matt blindsides me; his fingers retreat, only to be replaced by the warm press of his lips against mine. It’s a kiss that’s not just a kiss—it’s a claim, intense and consuming. My instinct is to rise, to put space between us, but there’s something about how he envelopes me, his presence so overpowering yet oddly comforting. My resistance dissolves under the heat of his touch, every thought of defiance evaporating in the wake of this unexpected surrender.

His hand glides up my leg to my thigh. He continues to kiss me, and as he parts my legs, a moan escapes my lips into his mouth. My hands moved of their own accord, threading throughhis hair as I deepened the kiss, allowing myself to be consumed by the passion that flared between us. There was no room for doubt or hesitation at that moment, only the raw, unbridled desire that surged through my veins.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me, Ava?” he growls, his lips leaving mine and trailing a fire down the sensitive skin of my neck. I gasp, arching into him as his teeth graze my collarbone.

“Yes,” I breathe, the word escaping before I can even think about it. My body responds to his touch and words, even as my mind is reeling.

Matt chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down my spine. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his hands sliding beneath my skirt, finding my wet and willing center. “Say you’ll take the job,” he growls, his voice heavy with lust. I shudder, knowing I can’t hold out much longer.

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