Page 12 of Contention

“A verbal thrashing?” He asks instead, adopting a falsely confused expression. “Is that what you thought today was? I must have been in a different courtroom.”

Oh, boy. That sounds like a headache in verbal form and Kara is not fucking interested. Not today. Not with her head already in a whirl from…that night. “Listen. I don’t like to talk about work when I’m drinking myspecialdrink,” Kara drawls, sipping from her martini with forced laziness. “You’ve said your hello, I’ve acknowledged you, so shoo now, if you don’t mind.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw, but he maintains his ersatz grin, frozen in place. It doesn’t match his eyes, those haunting eyes. For a moment, it almost looks like he’d love to backhand her and tell her to shut her smart mouth.

Her skin heats at the thought and again she’s thinking about that night, the one that didn’t happen.Stop, stop, stop, don’t think that way.

Or maybe that’s just Kara pushing her own imagination onto him, because the muscles in his face relax in the space of a minute. The cut of his strong shoulders eases and he gestures to the bartender, ordering some sort of swanky cabernet. The way he gracefully ignores her dismissal is vaguely irritating.

As the bartender starts pouring the glass of red, Kara scowls at the unwanted man beside her. “What part of what I just said sounded like I was inviting you to get a drink with me? We are opposing counsel in case you didn’t realize.”

When the glass is set in front of him, Calais rolls the red liquid around in the wide glass languidly. Ignoring her words once more, he instead asks, “Are you new to Benson’s firm? I’ve never seen you in court before.” The words are carefully crafted, hiding whatever his actual goal is in asking her. He swirls the wine in his glass, waiting for her answer all while not looking at her.

Like he doesn’t actually care what the answer is.

Everything about him is slightly enraging to Kara. She imagines he must have had a nice life, with a pleasant, normal childhood. Rich parents who gave him whatever he wanted. She wants to drag her nails down his face, because he’s smug, and he likes-

Games

She decides to keep it short, giving him as little info about herself as possible. “I’m an associate.”

“Clearly. Isn’t this case just a little bittooadvanced for a junior?”

He would think that, wouldn’t he? “Maybe I work hard for opportunities like this,” Kara replies curtly, sipping her martini.

She wants to ask him to kindly fuck off and leave her to her eternal brooding.

Havenwood-Calais gives her a thin smile, as if her words are pathetically entertaining to him. His perfect white teeth flash in a shark-like grin when he says smoothly, “Or maybe you’re screwing him.”

Kara stiffens, her fingers flexing around the stem of her glass.

His tone is casual, like he’s talking about the weather instead of gravely insulting Kara’s character.

She nearly slaps him, but physically assaulting the opposing counsel off the clock is generally frowned upon. Kara’s flabbergasted, knows her mouth is open in shock and probably looks like a fish out of water. The absolute nerve of this man to…insinuate something of the sort. “I’m not sleeping my way to the top, you horrid knob. Derrick ismarried.”

Calais gives her a look, like he thinks she’s a naïve baby. He scoffs lightly, blue eyes cackling with unheard laughter. “Oh, I’m aware. But that’s never stopped anyone before, has it?” Oh, he’s one ofthose.

“You’re a pig.” She won’t entertain his vulgarities whatsoever. “Just being near you makes my drink taste like filth.”

He drinks from his wine glass, eyes still on her. Assessing her with that odd look of his, like he knows something that she doesn’t. “You’re a firecracker, aren’t you?”

“Oh, buddy, you havenofucking idea,” she rasps, chomping on a blue cheese stuffed olive with righteous fury.

She should, by all means, stab him with the little olive skewer in her drink. It would be considered justified, wouldn’t it? He did call her a corporate slut, a ladder climber. Unforgivable. As if she’d lie on her back just to get ahead.

Kara fought hard to get where she is today, fought through all the shit she left behind, fought hard to rise above it. Perhaps that’s her giant fault; she’s happy to work herself to death, but healthy human relationships are foreign ideas to her.

Objectively, she knows what a healthy relationship should be. She’s watched enough movies, seen enough television. Romance flicks are grossly foreign to her, cringe worthy in their warm fluffiness. None of it ever displayed the reality she’d lived. Every time she came across a ‘nice guy’, she blew it, because it never felt right, it felt too good to be true.

It always felt like alie.

Her father had always been able to pull off nice and sweet…until he didn’t. He’d been able to wear a mask to pretend, just long enough to reel the unsuspecting in to fit his needs. To meet his ends.

This man though, he’s still leaning against the bar to her left, picking her apart with his words and staring her down with his piercing eyes. He makes her feel like a child, makes her feel small and vulnerable. Kara doesn’t like feeling that way, doesn’t like how it makes her think of-

-that night

Frowning, Kara turns in her seat a bit more to face him fully. More head on. To seem in control, to appear tougher than she actually is. When she focuses on him, she narrows her eyes and tries to understand what he wants. A man like him is always out for something. Men like him don’t waste their time on girls like Kara. Broken, angry girls that come from messed up homes. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

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