Page 16 of Miss Understood

Tipping my drink in their direction, I let out a grunt. “Wasn’t feelin’ it.”

“Well, she sure was feeling something ten minutes ago.” Nate laughs.

Jessica’s hands had been wandering all afternoon. If I’d really wanted to, I could have easily taken her up to my room—she told me as much when I picked her up. But my dick just wasn’t getting the message.

“Where’s Sin City Barbie?” Luce asks, sliding onto the stool next to mine. That floral perfume hits me like a train to the sinuses.

Luce pulls her hair up into a messy bun, revealing her long, silky neck, and I notice a warm glow of heat and sweat on her skin from being crammed into this packed bar.

“Jesse scared her off. It was quite amusing.” Mateo draws out a long sigh, and Nate nods in agreement.

Luce holds her drink against her lips and looks me up and down with the corner of her lip ticked up, but she doesn’t comment. She simply nods and takes a sip, keeping her stare locked on me. Those hazel eyes hold me in place.

I’m used to the composed, albeit cold, Luce from the office. Covered neck to knee in business attire. Her heels are usually the only hint of playfulness she’ll show off at work. She caught me off guard tonight when I spotted her standing at the bar, leaning her belly against it and sticking out her perfectly round ass in those skintight jeans. And now, with her hair pulled up away from her face, looking softer than I’ve ever seen her, she’s got me entirely off kilter.

Her lips purse over the rim of her glass as she takes another sip, and for the first time in two years, I have to actively remind myself that not only can I not stand her, but she’s my employee.

I might have screwed around the office a few times. Didn’t learn that lesson fast enough. But it was never with anyone who reported directly to me. And not only is Luce most definitely a branch under my watch, but we’re also currently sharing the workload on a case.

Planes might as well be flying around her pretty little head, writing “no-go” in the air. Luce is off limits if I want to maintain my career, and that’s even more true for her.

“Guessnicedoesn’t always cut it.” Luce shrugs one shoulder and sets her drink down.

“Guess not.”

Luce isn’t nice, not even remotely. I’ve seen her bring some of the most powerful men in the city to their knees.

Why does that sound so appealing right now?

I’m a masochist. That’s the only explanation.

The song changes, and it finally breaks the staring contest I didn’t realize Luce and I were having.

“Nate, honey, dance with me,” Mateo says, standing up and tugging at his arm.

Mateo and Nate are opposites in almost every way. Mateo is short and stocky, outgoing, and always says what’s on his mind. Nate, on the other hand, is tall and lean, reserved, quiet. The only time their personalities start to mesh is when Nate is wasted, which, from the way he’s swaying in his seat, is right now.

But even with all their differences, I’ve never seen Mateo happier. And I’m glad for him.

I first met Mateo back at my old firm, where he was an assistant to one of the senior attorneys. I was lower on the totem pole back then and spent a lot of time getting drunk with coworkers. Even though Mateo and I don’t have much in common, something clicked, and we had a blast being each other’s wingmen. When I left the firm to move over to Price & Davis, I tried to convince him to come with me, but it wasn’t until six months ago that he finally took me up on the offer. I’m thankful to have him—someone I can trust—at my side again, especially with Brad up my ass every five minutes.

“Did you get a chance to run the numbers I sent you?” I ask Luce, who is bopping beside me to the beat like a little kid.

She shakes her head and waves her finger at me. “No, we’re not doing that.” She forms a stop sign with her hand in front of my face.

“Doing what?”

“Work talk.” She grabs two shots from the waitress and pushes one my way. “Monday, you can bore me with paperwork, numbers, affidavits, contracts, all to your twisted little heart’s desire. Today, we drink.”

Luce holds up her glass, issuing a challenge, and I clink mine against hers. Tipping her glass back, she drains it down her throat and grits her teeth at the rush of liquor hitting her tongue.

“You’re bossy,” I tell her, taking a sip of my own.

“And you’re a pain in the ass,” she says, but it makes her smile. The alcohol must be getting to her head because I’ve never seen her this relaxed around me. “Why is that, anyway?”

“Me being a pain in the ass?”

She nods her head.

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