Page 7 of Silver Fake

The fact she wouldn’t tell me what happened has me grinding my teeth together. A part of me wants to confront her again and demand that she tell me what happened.

And that doesn’t make any sense at all.

I don’t know why this is bothering me so much. Lisa said she was fine and that should be the end of it. Yet even now, I find myself wanting to get a good look at her hand to make sure she's really fine for myself.

When I get inside my office, I close the door behind me and take a deep breath. I need to focus on work, not on Lisa's mysterious injury.

I try to push all thoughts of Lisa out of my mind and concentrate on my tasks for the day. But every time I catch a glimpse of her through the glass walls dividing our offices, my attention is drawn back to her.

I groan inwardly, frustrated with myself for a whole host of reasons. This entire day has been a shit show, and each passing second is only driving me further over the edge.

Ever since I won the Patterson case, the phone seems to be ringing off the hook every other second. New clients are calling right and left, all hoping to secure the services of the lawyer who pulled off the impossible. I knew success would come with challenges, but this is far beyond what I had anticipated.

I was in Boston for a meeting with a potential client earlier today, and things went well. But on the way back, my flight was delayed, then canceled, then rebooked. Somewhere along the way, the airline also lost my luggage.

When I got back to Houston, the driver took a wrong turn which got us unnecessarily snarled in traffic on U.S. 59. And just when I thought I was going to get a break, our jackass new associate was utterly unprepared for a meeting, forcing me to play bad cop.

It's not usually my style to publicly reprimand associates. I know everyone at the firm thinks I'm a grump, but even I remember what it's like to be a young lawyer. I've made more mistakes in my career than I can count, and I've been fortunate enough to have mentors who gave me feedback without tearing me down.

But Ethan deserved what he got. He's arrogant and entitled and thinks he knows everything. He also talks down to Lisa. And if there's one thing I can't stand, it's a lawyer who thinks they're better than everyone else just because they have a law degree.

Ethan needs to learn that disrespect has consequences. And if I have to be the one to teach him that lesson, so be it. Especially since Lisa is way smarter than he'll ever be.

Melissa once told me that Lisa got accepted to law school a while back but decided not to go. She wouldn’t tell me why. And I didn't ask. I’ve tried to stay out of Lisa's personal life because that’s a rabbit hole I know I’ll get lost in if I dive too deep.

But I do know a few things about her, though.

I know that she's in her early forties. I know that she's divorced. I know that she likes pink gel pens and shrimp cocktail. I even know she likes to visit Barton Beach to see her best friend. I’ve considered telling her it’s my hometown, but it never seems the right time to bring it up. I don’t want her to think I’m eavesdropping or anything.

I also know that she's gorgeous as sin.

Lisa has the kind of beauty that can't be ignored, even in a crowd. She has honey eyes and dark hair with whispers of gray that she never attempts to hide, although it's almost always pulled back into a clip. Her curves are exactly where they should be, and even though she always dresses tastefully at the office, you can tell she has a great body.

Most men my age are obsessed with youth. But not me. I love women my own age. There's something sexy about a woman who's lived a bit, experienced the world, and come into her own. Women in their forties have a certain allure that younger women just can't match.

And Lisa is the epitome of that allure.

I drop my head back against my chair, trying to get the image of Lisa on vacation in a bikini out of my mind. I refuse to be the boss who lusts after his secretary.

My cell phone rings on the desk, and my dad’s face lights up the screen. I smile, grateful for the distraction. I swear that old man always knows when I need him to call.

"Hey, Dad," I answer, my voice infused with warmth. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

“Johny boy." My dad's voice is deep and gravelly. "How's the workin' man's life treating ya?"

I chuckle. My dad never fails to amuse me with his old-timey expressions. "It's been a chaotic day, to say the least."

"Your mom and I heard about your case on the news. I know you worked your tail off for that Patterson win.”

“Thanks, Dad. Tell Mom thanks for me, too.”

My mom is just as great as my dad, even if she is technically my stepmom.

I think I’ve always loved her a little more for that very reason: because I’m the son she chose to love and not one she was obligated to love by blood. She’s truly the best. She and my dad are a big part of my success. Without their love and support, I doubt I would have made it this far in my career.

"Anyway," my father chimes in, pulling me from my thoughts. "I'm calling to see what day you're heading down to Barton Beach for the wedding,"

I quirk an eyebrow. "What wedding?"

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