Chapter 8
She turned and literally ran for my office door.
I lunged for her, intent on pulling her back, but she was over the threshold too quickly.
Several heads popped up to stare as I ground out, “Eddie, get back here!”
A hush seemed to fall over the entire office.
Eddie slid behind her desk and stared primly back at me, lips thinned, practically daring me to come and get her. Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, sir? Was there something you needed?”
Fuck yes there was. I needed her bare-assed and bent over my desk.
I cleared my throat as I buttoned my suit jacket to help conceal my highly inappropriate erection. “Yes, I expect you to only leave my office when you are dismissed. Leave without permission again and there will be consequences, understood, Ms. Carmichael?”
With her head held straight and her gaze frozen on her computer screen, the only indication she caught my meaning was the deepened blush on her cheeks. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
Not wishing for any more of our exchange to be on display, I turned and stormed back into my office. Leaning back in my executive oxblood chair, I was contemplating returning to my private bathroom and rubbing one out, knowing it would be the only way I’d be able to concentrate, when a high-pitched, nasally voice came from my doorway.
“Oh, Harrison, there you are.”
“Do I know you?” I asked, arching a brow at the brunette with bright pink lipstick in my doorway. Her matching pink skirt was inappropriately short for the office, and the thin, white silk shirt she wore showed far too much of her surgeon-assisted cleavage.
“Oh, you are so silly. Of course, we know each other. I’m Ally. Senator Blackwell’s daughter.”
“What are you doing in my office, Ms. Blackwell?” I did not have time for this shit today. Especially not when I could still taste my new paralegal’s kiss and my cock was still rock hard.
“Well, I just wanted to stop in and say hi. I work for the mayor now, and I was hoping that meant I would be seeing more of you. Maybe we could go grab a bite sometime.”
“Ashley—” I intentionally got her name wrong to impress on this girl that she was wasting my time.
“Ally.” She stomped her foot like a child.
I needed to end this now.
“Whatever. You need to go. I have work to do. I am sure the mayor will be happy to take you to dinner. He usually does when he fucks his interns. He is a class act like that. I, however, am far too busy to entertain the fantasies of little girls who look like they would be a terrible lay. Please leave.” I had moved to the door as I spoke.
Her face whitened as I approached, until I slammed the door in her face.
I had barely gotten back to my desk when the door slammed open again, and she barged in.
“You can’t talk to me like that. Do you know who I am?”
“A spoiled bitch looking for a rich husband. Leave.” I didn’t bother looking at her as I started my computer.
A loud screeching sound grabbed my attention. My secretary had grabbed the girl by her high ponytail and pulled her away. There was a bit of a scuffle before Cynthia was at my door again.
“Sorry, Mr. Astrid. I stepped away only for a coffee run.”
“It’s fine, Cynthia. Thank you for handling that.”
“Of course.” She gave me her soft smile that always made me think of a grandmother from a nursery rhyme. “I have your coffee and one for your new paralegal.”
I traded Cynthia a large stack of folders for my coffee. “Please ask Ms. Carmichael for her usual coffee order and pick it up with mine in the mornings.”
I nodded in the direction of my open doorway. “And make sure that useless fluff of pink is banned from entering the building again.”
“Already done. Anything else?”
I leaned back and rubbed my jaw. “Yes, send Ms. Carmichael in.”
A moment later Ms. Carmichael stepped into my office but hovered near the threshold. While her clothes could use some work, her makeup was once again flawless. More importantly, she appeared calm and collected.
Professional.
My jaw tightened.
Of course, it was preferred that she was presentable, especially with Cynthia standing just outside my door. Yet a dangerous, testosterone-driven part of me wanted her to still look thoroughly kissed and almost fucked.
“We need to discuss your duties.”
She nodded curtly. Her green eyes stared at a spot just over my shoulder, refusing to meet my gaze as she finished for me. “I’ve already started reviewing the files stacked on my desk. Did you need them checked or?—”
“No, they are mostly police reports. I need you to comb through them and make sure there is nothing that would surprise us later in court. I need to make sure everything is admissible, and if anything isn’t, then find precedents to make it admissible.”
“Is there a reason we are doing this by hand and not on a computer?”
It was a fair question.
“Yes, there is, Ms. Carmichael. When I need you to know, I will tell you, but for now, do your work and ensure that Cynthia has your coffee order for your morning and afternoon cups. We will be working a lot of long nights during this case. I need you focused and alert.”
I wanted to explain that I needed her to work late for professional purposes only, but I had no intention of making a dishonest statement.
“Yes, si?—”
My sharp gaze narrowed.
She licked her lips. “Yes, Mr. Astrid,” she said with another nod before returning to her desk.
Dammit. Again there was a stab of disappointment.
I hated how much I wanted to hear her call me sir again, preferably while on her knees waiting for my punishment or praise.
I watched her through the doorway for a moment, taking a sip of her coffee, then refocusing on her work and moving through it at lightning speed. Skimming pages, adhering sticky notes, and annotating on a legal pad.
It was impressive. I wasn’t aware new paralegals knew how to work old school without a computer to assist with legal research.
Old school slowed us down, but it also protected the files.
I didn’t trust everyone in this office, so she would be the only paralegal on a case that called for at least five. Really, I should have had ten working around the clock to speed up the research, since we were tackling this case without the benefit of digital files and online search functions. I just didn’t know who else I could trust with this case.
When I committed to it, I also committed to doing a lot of the grunt work myself, and that couldn’t change just because I wanted to bend Ms. Carmichael over my desk.
“Harrison, your mother is on line one.” I jumped at Cynthia’s voice coming over the intercom system. “She says it will be quick, and if I didn’t patch her through, she was just going to show up… again.”
There was nothing more effective at killing my sex drive than hearing my banshee of a mother was on the line.
I answered the phone with one last look at Ms. Carmichael, her head down and pen going a million miles an hour over her yellow legal pad.
“You have three minutes then I have to go to a meeting,” I lied.
“Harrison, darling, you should be kinder to your mother. I told you not to let the world know about the unfortunate circumstance of your birth?—”
“You cheating on your husband with a man who didn’t love you isn’t an ‘unfortunate circumstance,’” I said, annoyed.
“Yes, well, be that as it may, you should have never told anyone about it and let it damage your reputation. But it’s okay. I am going to fix it. I have the perfect solution that will wipe the entire slate clean.”
“Good, do it.” I hung up the phone and then got on the intercom with Cynthia, letting her know if my mother called back, I was in a meeting.
I then got to work myself. The stack I’d handed Ms. Carmichael was a little less than half of what needed to be done today.
I worked through lunch, as did Ms. Carmichael.
Cynthia put sandwiches on both of our desks, but neither of us touched them. At about five o’clock, Cynthia came in to tell me she was leaving and to remind me that starting Monday, she was off the next two weeks for appointments.
“Atlantic City with your sister is not a doctor’s appointment,” I pointed out, not looking up from the stack of folders.
“I didn’t say it was a doctor’s appointment.” She scoffed. “Anyway, I have the coffee orders placed with the delivery service. They should be here each day at eight a.m. and again at three p.m.”
“Perfect.” I sat back in my leather chair. “How am I going to survive without you while you’re gone?”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes at me. “Your main phone line will be forwarded so calls will be handled. You have very few meetings for the next two weeks. Your calendar has essentially been cleared for this mystery case. I’m useless to you for a while.”
“Never,” I said, meaning it.
“Don’t work the new girl too hard, Harrison. I like her, and I would like to keep one around for a bit.”
Certain my devoted secretary and I had very different definitions of working the new girl too hard, I only nodded as I told her to enjoy her vacation.
At about seven, Ms. Carmichael knocked on my door.
“Yes?” I asked without looking up.
“I’ve finished all those files, and the cleaning crew is giving me dirty looks.”
I nodded. They were used to me being here late but liked the bullpen empty so they could dust and vacuum all the cubicles at once.
“I have another stack for you. You can work in here or go home if you aren’t able to keep working tonight.”
“No, I can keep going.” Her words were tense as her arms crossed over her chest.
“I wasn’t trying to offend you, Ms. Carmichael. You can go home and pick this up tomorrow.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather get more done tonight.”
I handed her another stack, careful to avoid touching her. Afraid the chemistry between us would catch fire if we did. After what happened both times we were alone in the bathroom, I wasn’t convinced we wouldn’t ignite just by being in each other’s vicinity.
“I am making notes today. I want to take all of this to the law library tomorrow. So far, I have found a few instances of questionable searches, and the chain of custody is a travesty. I think I have a few cases you can cite to have the best chance of a judge allowing them. But without the computer, I will have to pull them by hand.”
“Good work. We will hit the library together to pull those cases tomorrow afternoon. It’s usually quiet in the afternoons,” I said. “The mornings are?—”
“Full of first years trying to prove a point then giving up by lunch,” she finished, looking at the first page in the top file.
“Exactly,” I said, trying not to show my approval, and motioned for her to work in the little sitting area that I rarely used.
When I got my first office, the couch and table set were gifts from my father. Not my biological father, my real father. They had come with me with every move up the ladder. The leather on the couch was worn from nights crashing on it when my career was just taking off, and the coffee table had plenty of white, ashy cup marks and a few dents.
Ms. Carmichael took a seat and went straight to work, while I returned to mine.
But only after I stole a glance at her gorgeous legs, revealed as her skirt rode up slightly the moment she sat. Giving myself a mental shake, I returned to my file notes.
We stopped only to order Chinese for dinner around nine.
It was well after midnight when I next looked over at her.
She was resting her chin on her left hand. Her right hand had gone slack, the pen in her grasp falling forward at an odd angle. While her eyes weren’t closed, she kept blinking in a struggle to remain awake.
She looked so adorably sweet, almost childlike with her ruffled hair and sleepy, slightly dazed expression. I wanted to sweep her up into my arms and carry her to bed.
Clearing my throat, I rose and stretched. “It’s late, we should call it a night.”
She looked at her phone. “Oh wow, yes, it’s going to take me at least an hour to get home.” She covered a delicate yawn with her fingertips.
Tearing my gaze from her open mouth, I asked, “You live that far?”
“No, I ride the subway and it usually takes longer with all the stops.” She lifted her shoulder in a casual shrug.
As if she hadn’t just sent a spike of fury straight down my spine at the very idea of her getting on a fucking subway at this time of night looking as tantalizing as she did.
The crowd of riders was the only reason the subway was safe during the day. There was safety in numbers, sort of. This late, it would just be her, junkies, and thugs. I had prosecuted enough cases to know what could happen to a person, especially a young woman, on those trains alone.
“The hell you are.” I grabbed my phone and texted my driver, gesturing with my chin. “Gather your things. I’m taking you home.”