Page 21 of Promise Me Forever

The Ryans are clients of James and James’s New York office, and they keep us busy. Never a dull moment, in fact, between their business activities and their not-so-legitimate activities.

“Perhaps. So. What the hell is going on with you? Is it really so bad being back here?”

I realize too late that he must be worried about me wanting to leave. I’ve been in Chicago for a long time, and the decision to move home wasn’t made lightly.

“No. It’s going to take some time to adjust, and that coffee machine is a total bitch, but no—I don’t have regrets, I promise you. I’m glad to be here with you guys again.”

“Good. That’s a fucking relief, in fact, because I’m glad to have you back. I’ve missed you. So, other than the coffee machine, what’s the issue?”

I look him in the eye. Time to rip off the Band-Aid. “I fucked Amelia.”

He blinks at me in surprise. “Already? Jesus fucking Christ, Drake. She’s only been here a matter of hours.”

“Not today, numbnuts.”

He blows out a breath. “At least that’s something. So when?”

“Saturday. And technically Sunday. She was the maid of honor from that wedding.”

He shakes his head in confusion. “The one you spent the night with? You said her name was Scarlet. What am I missing here?”

I drop my head back and rest it on the cushion. “It’s a long story.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters.

“You already said that.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, it’s a classic for a reason. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking anything. I didn’t plan this. I had no way of knowing that she’d waltz in here a couple days later and be all, ‘surprise, I’m your new assistant!’ It’s a coincidence. A really shitty one. There are, what, eight million people in this fucking city, half of them female? And I end up screwing her. I swear, I couldn’t make this shit up. It’d be funny if it was happening to somebody else. What the fuck am I gonna do?”

He pours more Scotch and frowns as he thinks it through. “It’s not ideal, but we’ll have to think of some way to fix this. I can’t see how she can stay as your secretary after this. I thought she seemed a bit off earlier. Of course, it would be much fucking cleaner and simpler if we could just let her go.”

“Let her go? Why? She did nothing wrong.” In fact, the memory of how she did everything so damn right is eating away at my insides. When she walked into my office today, I almost had a seizure. Only my years of experience in the courtroom allowed me to keep a straight face while my brain imploded. And if it wasn’t bad enough that it was her, she had to be wearing one of those wrap dresses. The kind that falls open with the correct pull on the correct string. The kind of dress that seems like it was made specifically to get my blood pumping. One little tug, and she would have been unwrapped. Knowing exactly what lies underneath it didn’t help. Even her hair was in on the act, all neatly pinned up and begging to be liberated. I can’t shake the image of how all those dark tresses looked spread over my pillow…

“You can’t fuck your secretary, Drake. It’s a damn PR nightmare. Plus, it’s just fucking wrong.”

I grunt in frustration—at him, at myself, at the whole screwed-up situation. “I know that, jerkwad. I know it’s wrong. I know it’s exploitative, but is firing her any better?”

“Maybe not if we guarantee her another job. We can pull some strings and I’ll write her a glowing reference.”

I slam my fist down on the table, and he raises his eyebrows at me. I’m mad, and I don’t get mad. Her mom is sick, and she was excited and nervous about starting her new job. She needs the pay and the benefits. I know way too much about her to be calm. The image of how disappointed she looked when I basically fucked her and kicked her out of my room is still seared into my mind, and I couldn’t live with myself if I screwed her over like this. Just because she had the poor judgment to go for an asshole like me doesn’t mean she should suffer for it.

“No. It’s not right, Nathan. She needs this job, and besides, I’m not fucking her now. Ifuckedher. Emphasis on the past tense. She wasn’t even an employee then. It’s a mess, but I’m not gonna be the kind of asshole who fires her because we…” I swallow the knot in my throat. Because we fucked like animals, yet it was the most intense connection I’ve felt with a woman in as long as I can remember?

“Okay. Playing devil’s advocate here, bro, but what if she talks? Tells the whole goddamn firm about the two of you?”

I throw my hands into the air. “About what? We didn’t do anything wrong. We were twoveryconsenting adults who had a great time together, and now she just happens to be my secretary.” I drop my head into my hands as reality hits home. “Shit, I’m so fucked.”

Nathan hums softly before he speaks. “Yeah. That’s a good way of putting it. And from a legal standpoint, firing her opens us up to a lot more scrutiny. Accusations of wrongful termination.”

I look up, incredulous. “That’s because it would be wrongful termination.”

His eyes narrow the way they do when he’s trying to solve a problem. “We could swap her out with someone else. One of the junior partners. Tim Sullivan needs someone.”

Fuck no. For some reason, the thought of her working for anyone else pisses me off, especially Tim fucking Sullivan. The man’s a horndog. I’m not going to admit that to Nathan, though, because I don’t really understand it myself. “That won’t work,” I say. “The position she applied for was secretary to a senior partner. It has a higher salary band. Moving her potentially causes the same issues as firing her, which we are absolutelynotgoing to do.”

I wait for his response, keenly aware of the fact that I’m back in our New York office to make his life easier, yet it’s only day one and I’m already causing him headaches. Way to go, Drake.

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