Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
NOAH
I wake up early the next morning, toss back my covers, and throw open the curtains.
I gaze out at a world that feels freshly laundered, crisp and clean and brimming with possibility.
I kissed Von last night.
We didn’t go any further than that. Von opened herself up in a way I’m not sure she ever has before. She was breathtaking in her vulnerability. I felt myself brush up against the edge of a cliff, felt my world tilt and shift.
I shower and dress quickly, eager to have her green juice ready when she gets up. She comes down from the second floor just as the espresso for her americano is finished dripping and I’m pouring the juice into a thermos.
Seeing her sends a little jolt through me. She wears a fitted, long sleeved navy dress with a thick gold belt, her hair done up in a sleek twist. My heart skitters as she shoots me a tentative smile.
“Morning,” she says .
“Good morning,” I say, sliding the juice across the island toward her. “You look nice.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You flirting with me, Deputy?”
I grin. “Maybe.”
She smiles back. I want to kiss her again so badly it’s like a permanent ache in my throat. I feel jittery, exposed, raw. Her eyes linger on my mouth before she adds hot water to her americano. She sips it and watches me over the rim of her mug.
“What?” I ask.
She smiles again. “Nothing.” We stand there for a few more seconds, staring at each other. The air between us has its own heartbeat. Von finishes her coffee and switches into work mode, checking her phone.
“Right,” she says. “Come on.”
She walks around the island and grabs her coat and purse from one of the closets.
“Where are we going?” I ask, following her to the elevator.
“I made you an appointment at Barbieri and Sons,” she says.
“What’s that?”
She gestures me up and down. “You can’t go into court in those clothes.”
I look down at my soft beige V neck and jeans.
“I wasn’t planning on attending the trial in denim,” I say. “I have dress slacks.”
“That’s cute,” she says, patting my cheek. “You need some actual suits, though.” We get in the elevator and as soon as the doors close, the heartbeat between us kicks up a notch. Von turns to me, her eyes molten with desire. I lick my lips.
“Suits aren’t really my thing,” I warn her, trying to clear my head as her jasmine scent surrounds me.
Her gaze drops to my mouth again. I feel a nip in my stomach, my cock quivering against my thigh.
“Barbieri is the best,” she says. “Crisp, classic, efficient. You’d be surprised by how much an outfit can sway a jury. ”
Her fingertips whisper over the back of my hand, her touch sending shivers over my skin. I want her so badly I can’t think straight. She tilts her head up toward me, an invitation, her eyes filled with lust.
The elevator doors open with a ping, and we break apart.
“That’s…incredibly depressing,” I say as we head out into the lobby.
Von opens her mouth to protest, then stops herself. “It is,” she admits.
Sam gives us a wave as we walk past the front desk.
“However,” Von continues as Benito opens the door for us, “it’s also the American judicial system in a nutshell. I know that sounds broken and fucked up, but it’s what we have to work with. And the system will be even more broken and fucked up if you end up in jail.” We get into the waiting town car. “Evidence matters, of course, but appearances are vital. We need to tell the best story. We need you to be sympathetic, attractive. We want the men on the jury to respect you and the women to want to date you.”
“We do?” I ask, my voice pitched up with surprise.
Von gives a small chuckle, and her fingers brush my hand again. “Figuratively, of course.”
“Of course,” I say. I wonder if Von wants to date me—literally. I hope so. It feels like we’re doing things out of order. We didn’t talk about expectations or anything. Obviously, now is not the moment to bring that up. There’s still that tricky little fact that she’s my lawyer. Pretty sure the judicial system looks down on lawyers dating their clients.
We weave through the streets of midtown until we get to a glass-fronted shop with mannequins in a variety of suits.
“It says they’re closed,” I say, pointing to the sign on the front door.
Von shoots me a sly look. “Not for me.”
Of course she can have a store close down for all customers except her. Though honestly, I’m glad I don’t have to try on a suit with other people browsing. I already feel out of my element.
We get out of the car and Von puts her hand my arm, her touch featherlight. “It’s going to be fun,” she says. “I promise.”
A bell jingles as we enter.
“Siobhan,” an older Italian man says as he swans over to us. He’s got a weathered face and a prominent nose, and he’s impeccably dressed in a navy-blue pinstripe suit. He kisses Von on each cheek, saying something in Italian that she replies to fluently.
I didn’t know Von spoke Italian.
“And this is he?” the man says, eyeing me.
“Giuseppe, this is Noah Patterson,” Von says. “Noah, this is Giuseppe Barbieri.”
“Hi,” I say awkwardly.
“Very nice, very nice,” Giuseppe says as he circles me like I’m a horse at auction. “Yes, we will turn you from rags to riches, my boy. Chiara!” He claps his hands. “Champagne!”
A tall, dark-haired woman comes over with a tray carrying two flutes of champagne. It’s only eleven am, but I feel like this is definitely a moment for a drink. I gratefully take a flute but then Giuseppe immediately snatches it from my hand and shuttles me up onto a platform in the back of the room, facing an enormous three-sided mirror. Von relaxes onto a small couch nearby. My image is everywhere—I can’t escape myself.
“This is weird,” I say, as she laughs.
“I promise you’re in good hands,” she says.
“Can’t we just get a suit at Macy’s or something?”
Giuseppe looks as if I’ve suggested we go club some baby seals. “Macy’s?” he gasps. “Siobhan, is he making jokes?”
“He’s just new to this experience,” Von says. “Be gentle with him.”
The woman, Chiara, brings her a series of ties to sort through and she turns her attention away from me.
Giuseppe leans in. “My good sir,” he says quietly. “Ms. Everton has never brought a man into my shop before. You must be a very special person in her life.”
“Oh,” I say, my neck going hot. “Um, no, it’s not like—I’m her client.”
He gives me a wink. “Of course.”
“No, really,” I say, but Giuseppe ignores me and begins to take my measurements. Chiara leaves Von with the ties and comes over to takes notes.
“Let us try you in charcoal first,” he says, clapping his hands, and Chiara scurries off to retrieve a jacket and button-down shirt. “Off, off,” he says, indicating my shirt. Von has gone completely still on the couch, running her fingers over a royal blue tie, her gaze fixed on me. A slight playfulness tugs at her lips, and I see the same flash of lust in her eyes that I saw in the elevator. While I would love to be shirtless with Von, I was kind of hoping there wouldn’t be any other people around when it happened. I clear my throat and slip my V neck over my head. Von’s gaze rakes down the bare skin of my back. Giuseppe turns me away from her, but I can see her reflection in the mirrors, watching me.
I can’t wait to kiss her again.
I button up the shirt and slip into the jacket. It’s the nicest thing I’ve ever put on in my life. The material is exquisitely soft, and the color compliments my skin. When I look into the dizzying array of mirrors, I feel…good. I look like someone who could be seen with Von. It makes me stand up a little taller.
Giuseppe claps his hands. “Yes!” he cries. “Look at that posture. You feel good, yes?”
“Yeah,” I say, a little bemused. “This is really nice.”
“Nice, he says, nice,” Giuseppe tuts, shaking his head as Von’s mouth curves into that private smile I love. “This is the finest vicuna wool!”
“The color is perfect,” Von says.
“Of course it is,” Giuseppe declares. “Now let’s adjust the fit.”
He pins and shapes until he’s satisfied and then he tells me to go change into the pair of trousers Chiara holds out. Thankfully I don’t need to do that in front of everyone. I slip behind a curtain into a dressing room and change into the pants. Once Giuseppe finishes pinning the hem and measuring the inseam and whatever else, I study myself in the mirror.
“Damn,” I say, turning this way and that. Even with all the pins, I can tell this suit is going to look terrific. I’m like a heightened version of myself. I’m not quite sure how I feel about that—it’s not really me. But I think about what Von said about juries. And wearing a well-tailored suit one time in my life isn’t going to change who I am as a person. I glance at her for approval.
“Excellent work, Giuseppe,” she says, standing. “We’ll take these.” She points to various ties.
I step down off the podium to join her.
“It really suits me, huh?” I say, winking at her.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Von groans. “Go get changed. I need to stop by the office.”
I step down off the podium and head back to the dressing room. Once I’m in my regular clothes, we say our goodbyes to Giuseppe and get back in the car.
“I’ve been thinking,” Von says as we turn down Fifth Avenue. “You should stay at the house when we go back to Magnolia Bay for the pretrial hearing. To be honest, we’ll probably stay there until the trial. There will be jury selection, and prosecution witnesses to interview, and I’m tired of Everly Harris dominating the narrative. You’re not going to be in hiding anymore.”
I swallow hard. “Stay in your house?”
The idea of being around Caden and Von at the same time is deeply unsettling. Somehow, I don’t think he’d like the idea of me kissing his sister.
“Not in the mansion,” she reassures me. I wonder if her thoughts are in line with mine. “In the guesthouse.”
Oh. That’s better—it’s tucked away on the water in the backyard .
“I’ll have the staff make sure it’s ready for you when we arrive,” she says. “With a fully stocked fridge.”
I smile at her. “No lonely jar of olives? No expired shredded cheese?”
“Ha ha.”
We pull up to her office and it’s as sleek and polished as I expected. Much more like the villain’s lair I had imagined Von living in. Her firm is on the fifty-second floor, and we emerge into a spacious lobby with a long reception desk. A blonde woman smiles at Von and gives me a curious glance as we head through a pair of glass doors into the office space. There are cubicles in the center with offices lining the walls. I hurry in Von’s wake as she strides down one hall. Another blonde woman comes rushing up to her.
“You’re here!” she says. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I had some things I needed to get from my office and some calls to make,” Von says. The woman is openly gawking at me. “Oh, Marissa, this is Noah. Noah, this is my assistant, Marissa.”
“Hi,” I say.
“Can I get you anything?” she asks. “Coffee, water?”
“I’m good, thanks,” I say. This place is intense, the low hum of chatter, phones ringing, people bustling around with stacks of file folders. There’s a vibe in the air of panic mixed with energy drinks. Everything smells expensive.
“Thank you, Marissa,” Von says, a dismissal if ever I’ve heard one. She opens a door with her name on a small plaque on the front. One wall is a giant window, facing toward Central Park—I can see trees through a break in the buildings. Everything is neat and tidy, just as I would expect Von’s office to be. It’s also pretty impersonal. There’s a leather couch by the door and an ergonomic chair behind the desk. There are no framed photos, no trinkets on her bookshelves. Just her degrees, one from Yale, one from Columbia.
The click of the door locking behind me feels loud in my ears .
“So,” she says, shifting in her heels and rubbing the back of her neck. I think I like Von nervous—it’s incredibly cute. She sweeps out a hand halfheartedly. “This is my office.”
“It’s nice,” I say, and she laughs.
“Liar.” She takes a step toward me and a shiver runs over my skin. “I just need to grab a couple of things,” she says. The ache in my throat grows tighter, the tension between us thrumming to a fever pitch.
“Right,” I say, moving closer, iron drawn to magnet. I crave her so badly my palms tingle. Her face is barely an inch away.
“Then we can…” But her voice trails off as her lips brush against mine. Heat flames over my skin, my instincts kicking in, not caring that this is the wrong time and certainly the wrong place, only knowing that I need her. My arms snap around her, nearly lifting her off her feet as I sink my mouth onto hers. She kisses me fiercely as I press her against the wall, my hands moving to cup her ass, the hard length of my cock prodding her leg. She groans and I feel it reverberate through my chest, her hands knotting in my hair, pulling me closer. It’s even better than last night, the lushness of her lips, the way her grip sends prickles down the back of my thighs.
She hikes up her skirt to wrap one leg around my waist. I lift her up and carry her to the desk, sprawling her across it and sending papers and pens scattering to the floor. Her legs curl around me and I palm her thighs, so firm and supple, her chest heaving as she looks up at me, her gaze pleading.
I know exactly what I want to do.
I drop to my knees and she gasps as I push the scrap of lace covering her sex to the side, flicking my tongue out to taste her.
“What are you doing?” Von gasps, but she doesn’t stop me. Instead, she tilts her hips, an invitation. I lick her again, circling the tight bud of her clit, feasting on her sweetness. Her heels dig into my shoulder blades as her back arches. I slip a finger inside her and feel her tighten. I dive back in with my mouth, sucking at her, reveling in each tiny gasp and moan. She twines her fingers in my hair as she writhes against me, her pleasure making my own cock throb. I feel her delicate muscles tighten.
“I’m almost there,” she gasps. “Oh god, Noah…”
“I feel you, baby,” I murmur against her. I slide my fingers inside her again and she claps one hand over her mouth to stifle her wail.
“Yes,” she whispers. “Harder.”
She clenches around me as I pump inside her, then lick at her sex, the tension building, her body arching.
“More,” she groans, and I drive my tongue against her as she hits her peak; her muscles shudder then release as she crests against my mouth and I splay one hand over her stomach as she bucks for me, succumbing to pleasure, my own moans sliding against her wetness.
She relaxes back against the desk and for a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our ragged breaths. I press a tender kiss on the inside of her thigh. I stand and see her face is flushed, her eyes bright. She reaches out for me, a gesture at once commanding and timid. Take my hand. Please.
I hold it in my own and press my lips to her knuckles.
“That was…” Von gasps, still panting. “That was…”
I let out a breathy chuckle. “Yeah.”
She sits up and adjusts her dress. I cup her face with my palm and kiss her softly. My cock is so hard it aches. It nudges Von’s thigh and she grins.
“We should do something about that,” she says. Her phone rings and we both jump—I’m suddenly very aware of all the people just on the other side of that door. With Von, it’s like I lose all sense of time and space.
“But not here,” she amends with an embarrassed chuckle.
“Right,” I agree as she stands and grabs her cell.
“Grayson,” she says. “What’s up?...Oh great, can you email them and print them out too? I’ll have Noah take copies back to the apartment…Yeah, he’s here, I took him for a suit fitting…Barbieri’s of course, who do you think I am?” She chuckles. “Okay, see you in a sec.”
She hangs up and glances down at my crotch. “You need to calm down,” she says with a mischievous smile that makes me even harder. “Grayson is on his way over.”
She comes over and plants the lightest kiss on my neck.
“I can’t calm down if you keep doing that,” I warn her.
“Right.” She steps back. “He’s bringing over some motions. Can you take the car back to the apartment? I’ve got some calls to make. It’s time to do something about this asshole who’s suing Jake.”
I didn’t think Von could get any sexier in this moment.
“Sure,” I say. “No problem.”