15. Cade
15
CADE
W hy Soren Dahlberg?
The man is in his sixties, happily married, and the wedding band he wears isn’t just for show. She can’t really be sending this “message” to him —can she?
Highly unlikely.
Though Soren has an assertive demeanor, he still knows how to work his charm, earning him the playful title of “Swedish silver fox” among the women in the office. According to the watercooler talk, his Nordic origins gives him the benefit of never having to worry about shaving, which only adds to his impeccable appearance in his bespoke suits. Good for him. I can’t count myself lucky in that regard. Even freshly shaved, a shadow is visible.
Nonetheless, I’m convinced he was just a convenient excuse she whipped up on the spot to save face when I caught her red-handed.
Truth be told, I couldn’t care less about her attempt to conceal it or the boldness of her actions in the first place. She’s an enigma, a truly bewildering enigma.
I can’t help but shake my head in disbelief.
For the next two hours, I find myself mulling over possibilities I never would have entertained before. Maybe it’s the lawyer in me, or maybe I’m just dissecting every option because I don’t feel I can confront her outright. Not without laying bare the whole truth.
The questions persist. Why say on the phone that she’ll never sleep with me again, only to leave her panties on my desk right after?
It doesn’t add up.
Even if it hadn’t derailed my focus entirely, I can’t give her the answers she’s seeking, answers she rightfully deserves. And now there’s this added layer of perplexity as to why she occupies such significant space in my mind.
I keep thinking about that curvaceous ass peeking from beneath her skirt when she yanked it up. God, I wanted to take it in my hands and re-live one of the many reasons she had me so hooked so long ago.
I wanted to thrust, and thrust, and thrust.
In my entire thirty-four years, I’ve never met a woman I felt such an intense desire to fuck.
She’s quick-witted, too. The speed at which she whipped up the Mr. Dahlberg story was quite impressive, I’ll give her that. But let’s cut through the smoke and mirrors. Soren Dahlberg? He’s boarding a flight tonight for a two-week family getaway. He won’t be needing anything delivered on his desk for tomorrow, certainly not from my paralegal and definitely not without my say-so. Least of all my paralegal’s used underwear.
Jesus Christ.
It’s clear who this message was meant for, and it sure as hell wasn’t him.
The universe decided to play a cruel joke by tempting me with such a precarious chance encounter. Half a minute later and I would have missed the whole show. That was one hell of a stunt she pulled, trying to get my attention, sexually . Is that it? I mean, obviously. First the phone call, then this.
I need to stay calm and not read too much into it.
Honestly, I’m at a loss when it comes to her. She’s giving off all sorts of signals, but they’re all over the map. One minute she’s doing something wild, the next she’s denying it.
Ever since she showed up, it’s been chaos. She’s turned everything upside down, and I’m struggling to keep it together.
Don’t I keep her busy enough?
Apparently, she has too much time on her hands.
What’s next on her agenda? Thongs and bras scattered around everywhere? I can already picture it: whips, handcuffs, and strap-ons strewn across furniture as part of the office decor. Who knows, maybe she’ll introduce “casual Fridays” where everyone shows up in lingerie. What are we, Grey & Greyer?
Perhaps it’s a blessing she never became a lawyer. Every courtroom she stepped into would be out of order.
I lean back and take a deep breath.
No. This has to stop. Now.
She’s a danger.
To herself. To everybody. To me.
It’s time to mitigate any potential negative effects of her continuing to work here. Before everything is in fucking shambles.
I need to take action. Quickly.
Bright and early the next day, I find myself at my desk, unable to shake off yesterday’s “encounter.” Perhaps it’s because Kennedy’s panties are nestled under a heap of files in my bottom drawer, where they’ll remain. Regardless, I need to take charge and regain control of the situation between us.
I buzz Shanice over the intercom and instruct her to send Kennedy in as soon as she gets to work, first thing.
A few minutes later, the knock on the door makes me catch my breath.
“Yes, come in,” I growl.
The door opens to reveal Kennedy standing there, dressed in one of her typical workday outfits. The perfectly tailored slacks caress her in all the right places.
“Have a seat,” I bark, clearing my throat.
She shuts the door behind her and quickly sits down as ordered. Wringing her hands in her lap, she avoids eye contact. I can see a lingering blush on her cheeks, and I do feel bad for her. I know she’s embarrassed.
“Kennedy,” I begin.
Suddenly, her hands fly up. “Cade, I can explain everything. I’m so sorry about last night. It was stupid and unprofessional, I know. But it’s not what you think. I really did mean to leave those things for Mr. Dahlberg.”
My brows rise. “Oh, really?”
“That sounds even worse, doesn’t it?” She shakes her head. “What I mean is… the whole thing was a joke. A prank. Well, more of a lost bet. You see, my roommate Harper and I, we didn’t think I’d get this job, but I wanted this job?—”
“Even though you emailed me and said you didn’t want the job,” I remind her.
“Yes.” She cringes. “There’s that too. It’s… uh, complicated. You of all people can surely understand why. Anyway, she had this glorious idea that the best way to guarantee I’d get the job is if I didn’t want it. So she made me agree to a challenge if I got the job, you know. So I wouldn’t want it anymore.”
“Uh-huh,” I say slowly, trying to take this in.
“It had to be the boss’s office, obviously, for full effect—your office—but luckily, later we agreed not to go to that extreme to avoid giving you the wrong idea about my feelings, and then I somehow still ended up in your office. But I swear, it was a completely innocent mistake.”
“Uh-huh. Innocent.”
“Yes! That’s why you found me leaving those things. See, I pinky-promised, and everybody knows you can’t break a pinky promise. Nobody was ever supposed to know it was me. But hey, you busted me. If you have to discipline me, I’ll accept it.” She throws a hand over her mouth. “God, that came out wrong.”
Discipline her?
There’s nothing I want more than to discipline her. To bend her over my desk and spank that perfectly luscious, naked ass she presents to me until she’s screaming out my name. My balls tingle at the thought. I’m flooded with need and insatiable fantasies. Hunger broils within every cell and muscle of my body.
For fuck’s sake, stop!
Don’t even think about it.
I hear my dick weeping in agony, but I’ve made my decision.
“Actually, Kennedy,” I say, leaning forward and clearing my throat, “I called you in here to get an update on the Mary Larkin case.”
There’s a moment of silence.
All she can do is stare at me. “Oh,” she says.
What? Did she think I was going to fire her? It didn’t even cross my mind.
She gives me a contemplative glance. It’s clear that she’s trying to figure out how to navigate this unexpected turn of events, how to respond. Her eyes narrow as the gears seem to turn in her head. She bites her lip. She’s rethinking her strategy. I’m curious to see what she’ll come up with next. It seems I’ve thrown a monkey wrench into whatever plea she likely spent all night concocting. Well, too bad—overruled.
She’s relieved, that much is certain, but she’s not entirely sure what to make of it.
Sure, I could have handled it differently. I could have delved into the whole story, perhaps even “disciplined” her. But as for her absurd bet with her roommate, I’ve heard quite enough. The bottom line is, I now hold the upper hand, and I plan to maintain it.
If anything, she might benefit from refining her poker face.
“The Mary Larkin case, any updates on that?” I repeat.
She straightens, her expression hardening. “Right. Of course. I don’t know why I thought you’d give any of that other thing a second thought.”
I give her a look, not wanting to drag this on any more than necessary.
“Well. Mary Larkin,” she says after a few beats, switching gears. I watch her closely, noticing the determination in her tone as she gathers her thoughts.
“Turns out, my instincts were absolutely right. Mary has been struggling to find employment because of her age and the stigma of being fired from her previous job. She insists that the real reason for her termination wasn’t Mr. Biscuit, but rather, age discrimination and retaliation for speaking out against the unfair treatment by her superiors. But wait, here’s the kicker. The company originally justified their ‘no pets’ policy, claiming hygiene issues, allergies, and work disruptions. Yet there’s no documented evidence or formal complaints to support their claims. We could argue that their enforcement lacks justification.”
I shake my head. “Let’s delve deeper. New policies often coincide with management changes or organizational shifts. Courts scrutinize whether those policies are reasonable and whether they were consistently applied and clearly communicated. The ‘no pets’ policy might be defensible even in the absence of formal complaints. Do you have any additional findings?”
“Indeed I do,” she responds, a flicker of excitement in her eyes. “Digging deeper, I found a troubling pattern of discrimination and intimidation tactics against older employees who speak up—just like I knew I would. There are other older employees, all women, who’ve experienced discrimination at the firm, and they are willing to come forward.”
A bit winded from her speech, she looks expectantly at me.
I lean forward, absorbing her words. “That strengthens the case significantly. We should start putting together the paperwork for a class action lawsuit.”
Her eyes grow huge. “A class action? Really?”
I shrug. “Yes. It seems reasonably clear.”
“There might not be enough witnesses for that.” She pulls a notepad from her purse and flips through a few pages, checking her notes. “I’ve got five current employees, plus Mary—who’s no longer with the firm.”
“Let’s dig deeper then. I’ll get our PI involved. I wouldn’t be shocked if Harris finds a roster of ex-employees who faced the same sleazy antics from the firm’s top dogs.”
I notice a change in her demeanor and a shifting of the atmosphere around us.
She takes a moment to process what I last said before responding. Despite our disagreements and Soren’s skepticism, we both acknowledge the compelling nature of this case. It’s enough to bring us closer together, even if only for a moment.
“Great.” She nods. “I’m glad we’re going to leave no stone unturned in this investigation. Anything else?”
“Thank you, Kennedy. They’re about to start work on the paralegals’ office and a few more rooms in the coming week,” I say, waiting for it to register. “That means you’ll be working in my office, with me.”