Page 17 of Honorable Convictions
Pierson refused to look into the mocking aqua eyes only a few feet from his, and he certainly took no note of the way his smile turned him from handsome to glorious. “Your reputation is one of a man with ambition and competitiveness. It makes sense that you’d bully your way into obtaining one of the slots.”
“I earned it,” Mitchell gritted out.
“I didn’t say otherwise,” Pierson remarked, forcing his blood to cool both his temper and the visceral attraction. His reactions were always intense when Mitchell was involved, not that he’d seen him much in the last few decades except for the couple of cases that brought them to court. In the same office, there should be civil discourse, but they allowed petty conflicts and one-upmanship to dictate their still unfulfilled destiny. Pierson was certain the latter would continue to dominate their lives.
“You just accused me of browbeating my way into my current position.”
“On the contrary, your reputation is of someone with determination and grit,” Pierson managed.
“Some of us weren’t gifted with talents that allow them to rest on their laurels,” Mitchell responded. They weren’t alone, and Pierson wasn’t going to stand there and get into a dispute during a morning coffee and donut break to welcome the many fallen knights and Juris Knights that were joining the office.
“I’m not going to argue with you.”
Mitchell took a step closer to Pierson, planting himself at his side, and he froze. The calming scent of lavender and vanilla hit his nose, and he nearly sighed with pleasure, but nothing about dealing with Mitchell left him tranquil for long. “I think you’ve gotten a little too used to being the Juris Knight everyone looks up to. You’ve sat at headquarters since our training ended, on your frozen throne with an occasional glance down at the lesser people like me. Well, guess what? I’m here now, and I’m not going to settle for being second best. If you want to keep that sterling reputation, I suggest you thrust off your complacency and get back to working hard.”
Pierson’s gaze narrowed, and when he turned to glare at Mitchell, his face was inches away. Although he didn’t want to notice the blue-green orbs or the tiny mole below his left eye, it was already catalogued in his perfect memory. “What are you trying to say, Brooks?”
“You’re sitting up on a mountaintop and going through the motions. I know all about your life. Unlike you, I have friends across the continent. Do you know what I’ve learned about you? There isn’t a single person you’ll allow near you. It’s not healthy to sit around thinking you’re better than everyone else. Yes, you have an enviable brain, but it sure as fuck doesn’t give you any reason to believe we’re not worthy of you.”
Tears threatened as Pierson considered what his life had been like since his resurrection. All he had was his job. They weren’t cases to him. In each file was a person with wants, needs, and feelings. Never forgetting that, he made sure his judgment reflected the mistake they’d made. Young people and first-time offenders were always given the lightest sentences as he wanted them to have the opportunity to turn things around.
Mitchell and Pierson had an adversarial relationship, but the venom in his voice told a different story. Convincing himself that the timing was off, Pierson had always assumed they’d be together someday. Pierson believed they could put the past behind them without looking back at the nonsense they’d endured in their idiotic conversations but now, he wondered if he was fooling himself.
Mitchell didn’t sound like a man coming to Vegas with a redo button. Instead, he was the same old guy from training, taunting Pierson and trying to get under his skin. Pierson supposed he could’ve carried on with his happily-ever-after theories if it wasn’t for the vitriol that had spilled out. Not once had he ever thought to himself that it’d be best if he built a reputation of ice.
It was impossible to figure out why he was inept at connecting to people. Pierson was able to handle his clients well. Friendly and kind, he was tough as necessary, but put him in a room with his coworkers, and he became the frozen block everyone alluded to in the hushed whispers they no doubt intended for him to overhear.
Not willing to stand there while his dreams crumbled into dust, Pierson turned on his heel and stalked away. There were files waiting on his desk, and it was the work that had always been his refuge.
∞∞∞
Months after joining the team at Las Vegas, Mitchell was genuinely worried about Pierson. All the rumors and whispers were true. Just like when they were recruits, Pierson had separated himself—he’d even managed to secure an office on the other side of headquarters away from the other Juris Knights. The people around him were so used to it that they simply moved around him like a piece of furniture.
Mitchell was unable to talk to him civilly. As always, barely concealed insults flew, and a lack of respect for their matebond flared immediately. Not that Mitchell hadn’t tried. It was important to him that he get along with his coworkers—even his testy other half, so he’d thrown a party in his tiny rental, which had been a great success. Only one person had refused to show up and that was, of course, Pierson.
While it had been fun, there were aspects Mitchell hadn’t enjoyed. Away from the office, tongues had been loosened, and Mitchell got an earful of how they really felt about Pierson. They were convinced he was a robot or simply more dead than them. Theories abounded regarding his resurrection and what had gone wrong that made him too machinelike, and it was as if Mitchell was the only one who detected the passion under the surface. It was Mitchell who had the fire and fury thrown at him. Pierson tried to play the ice king around him, but he usually failed.
Although he liked to dwell on figuring out the puzzle of his mate, there were things Mitchell needed to attend to besides his concern about Pierson, like his current journey to a newer building near headquarters that had advertised large condominiums. After pulling into the visitor’s parking lot, he was met by his realtor, a lovely woman named Evelyn. Without a blink, she’d assisted him and didn’t refute his claim that his mate would join him soon.
Leading him into a chic lobby with a bank of elevators past the mailboxes, they rode up to the fourth floor, and Mitchell’s excitement grew as they walked.
“Is it a corner unit?”
“Yes, the last available one. I’ve already been inside, and you’re going to love it. This could be the one.”
Mitchell hoped so; he was tired of traipsing around the city, looking for the perfect place to live. When Evelyn opened the door and ushered him inside, Mitchell’s smile was automatic. The smell of fresh paint hung in the air, and he hadn’t failed to notice the gleaming wooden floors or the giant windows letting in the almost constant Las Vegas sun. Although plenty complained of the horribly hot summers, Mitchell, being a fallen knight, was immune to such extremes in temperatures. The windows let in a panoramic view of the stunning mountains visible from everywhere in town, and the bright lights of the new casinos in the distance were no less appealing.
“I love it.”
“I knew you would. There’s one bedroom, and wait until you see the office. The walls are lined with shelves. Plenty of space for your law books.”
They went from room to room, and Mitchell fell in love for the first time. What sold it for him was the mental picture of Pierson there. Maybe Mitchell would learn to cook and prepare them meals, or they’d simply sit on the couch to discuss the jobs that constituted such large portions of their waking hours.
“I don’t want to scare you, but the price is a little higher than the range you gave me,” Evelyn cautioned.
“How much higher?”
“Not high enough that it would be impossible, but it might be tight for a bit. You’re going to need a large down payment.”
