Page 34 of The Lawyer
Fretting over what to do or what not to do, I leave the party and stalk back through the darkness until I see a familiar part of Tallington Hall. Without being seen, I escape up to the second floor and then the staircase that leads to the guest bedrooms.
On finally reaching my suite, I close my eyes and pray that Landon isn’t staying here as well as I turn the lock on my door. If he were to arrive, I know saying no to that man would be a stretch of my will power at the best of times, regardless of what my head is saying.
Sleep isn’t easily won, and I lay awake, staring at the ceiling through the thin material covering the four-poster bed. My mind pictures a young boy roaming the halls and grounds of the mansion. He's lonely, frowning too. He's also swimming naked in the lake.
Chapter Thirteen
LANDON
Dropping four files onto Tonya’s in-tray so she can get on with it when she gets back from lunch, I head back through the offices to my own. My phone rings as the lift doors open, Jackson’s name flashing. I know what it’s about, and answering it here isn’t something I’d usually do, but having spent all day Sunday tense enough about Willow and the situation at the ball, I need some relief in the way of a dance. I don’t know what I think it will do, but I’m assuming it might make me stop thinking about my PA.
A short conversation later, confirming the time and date, I end the call and transfer the five thousand he’s chasing me for. Fucking idiotic.I don’t know what I was thinking on Saturday night. Whatever it was, and however good Willow might have felt in my hands, it needs to stop before it goes any further. A kiss is one thing, but what I did was way past that, and a potential litigation I’m not prepared to get into. Not to mention our working relationship. If it hasn’t been ruined already.
I’ve barely spoken to her this morning. Not necessarily because I haven’t wanted to, but with meetings, phone calls, and constant interruptions, I’ve just not had the chance. And when I did, I wasn’t sure what it was that I wanted to say, so it's been strictly work.
She’s sitting at her desk when I finally get back to my corner of the building, a perfectly crisp suit in place covering all that skin I saw this weekend. I stop and shove my hands in my pockets, both frustrated with sensible conversations and yet knowing they’re needed. “You’re not having lunch?” I ask.
She holds up a bag of fruit, face still looking at whatever she’s typing. “Busy. I have a tyrant of a boss.” True enough.
“What’s he got you doing?”
“Trivial stuff.” She smirks to herself and keeps working, delicate hands moving swiftly across the keys. I look at them for a few seconds, remembering the way they tugged my hair. Sadly, the memory leads me down avenues that end near my fucking cock.
Sighing, I look around the room and then back at her. “Do we need to discuss the ball?”
She looks up from behind her laptop. “I don’t know, do we? The budget may need an explanation.”
The fact that I’m still imagining what’s under all those clothes, and the fact that I am just as fixated on her mouth again, proves, to me at least, that we definitely do. And not because of the fucking budget.
I huff, turn, walk. “Come into the office. Shut the door behind you.”
Striding off without waiting for an answer, I get behind my desk and put as much distance between us as possible. The moment she arrives in the space with her tablet in hand and those legs and heels on display again, any amount of fucking space becomes irrelevant.
I stiffen at the look of her approaching me, attempting to swallow down the amount of filth that wants to leave my mouth. “Sit down, Willow.”
“Alright.” It doesn’t help in the slightest because the moment she crosses her legs, the hemline rises up and exposes more of her legs.
“Look, it shouldn’t have happened and—”
“Of course, it shouldn’t.”
My brow rises. “You agree?”
“It was one night, Landon. A drunken one at that. I think we can forgive ourselves and move on without the need to rehash it.” Right.
The fact that I’m being so easily dismissed pisses me off.
“I mean, you’re attractive," she continues. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be hung up on what happened between us. It was a party. We were supposed to have fun, and we did.”
She smirks to herself and keeps those eyes of hers firmly locked with mine before opening her mouth again. “And I’m perfectly capable of appreciating the view from now on without any touching involved. As long as you are. Is that going to be a problem for you?”
Dismissed and now questioned?
I open my mouth.
“It’s the heels, isn’t it?” she says, cutting me off before I get a chance to speak. “Too much?” Yes. “They’re not going to change.” Of course, they’re not. I don’t want them to either. “You may get to dictate to everyone else in your life, but you can’t tell me what to wear just because you can’t control yourself. I’ve already checked my contract, and there’s nothing about shoes in the dress code.”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t control myself.”
