9. Brooke
brOOKE
Stuart places his hand on my arm, sending waves of warmth along it. Leaning down, he whispers, “Let’s wait to talk until we’re alone. We have much to discuss that’s better handled in private.”
I nod, knowing that privacy is best for our conversation.
I should put some distance between us. Instead, I let him guide me into the elevator.
It’s nothing short of déjà vu. The warmth of his touch once again comforts me in the confined space.
It also conjures memories of our kiss and the desire for so much more.
I shouldn’t let myself even think such thoughts.
He’s a client. The problem is, we already crossed a line when our lips connected.
Shit.
I’m sure that violates some ethical rule. Does it count if I didn’t know he was a client at the time? They’d probably argue I should’ve known. I’m screwed. I’ll be disbarred. Fired. Humiliated. It will be the end of me.
That thought shocks me.
What’s happened to me? When did I start measuring my self-worth solely based on my work life? Until I took this job three years ago, I was playful and a little sassy. I laughed and had fun. Before then, I loved life and liked myself even in my less-than-perfect moments.
Now I spend most of my time working or worrying about work. Any minor hiccup I view as a failure. I never thought I’d judge myself so harshly and shut down my personal life completely.
When did I change? Thinking back, it’s not hard to pin down the timing. The change started during my first year at the law firm.
All the new hires worked ridiculously long hours with no time for dating. When one of the third-year lawyers asked me out, I thought I’d found the perfect solution to achieving a healthy work-life balance. We’d have the same schedule and goals, and we’d squeeze in a little romance.
Was I ever wrong. The relationship was a disaster. He constantly bragged about his accomplishments while downplaying mine. I’d swear he delighted in my missteps. It fueled his superiority complex.
It took me longer than it should have to realize he was pulling me down to elevate himself.
As for the romance part, it wasn’t even worth it.
Our dinner dates mainly consisted of takeout eaten in a conference room while working late.
We’d squeeze in the occasional quickie when we could sneak away from the office.
While it definitely wasn’t the stuff of romance novels, somehow, I was still heartbroken when it ended.
To make it worse, there was a firm policy against employees dating each other. I hadn’t realized that until he warned me not to mention our involvement to anyone. Fortunately, we broke up before management figured out we’d been seeing each other. Otherwise, they could have fired me.
The day he announced he was taking a job at a firm in New York was one of the best days of my life. A sense of pure relief washed over me. He wouldn’t be around to demean me again, and the chance of the firm learning we’d dated evaporated with his departure.
After that, I vowed never to mix work and pleasure again. I didn’t want to ever experience that gut-wrenching fear again. As a result, I became a rule follower.
That’s also the day I lost part of myself. I buried the fun-loving, spirited part of me. That version of me couldn’t survive in my work world without getting into more trouble. At least, that’s what I convinced myself of at the time.
I miss the old me, but I follow the rules for a reason. That sucks now though. It’s just my luck that when a gorgeous guy with magical lips comes along, my career cockblocks us.
For the rest of the elevator ride, I attempt to shake off the disappointment as we descend in silence.
A couple of minutes later, the doors open to the reception area for my law firm.
“Hello, Helen. This is Lord Sandridge. We’ll be meeting in my office,” I explain to the receptionist.
“Welcome, Lord Sandridge. Would you like something to drink?” she asks.
“No, thank you.”
“Please follow me. My office is down the hall,” I say, pointing to the hallway on the left just past the reception desk.
My heart rate increases as we near my office. The thought of being alone with him makes me anxious. I’m not sure what to expect. This conversation could be reassuring or devastating.
Walking through my office door, I say, “Please have a seat.”
As a junior associate, my office is rather simple. I have a desk, executive chair, two compact, guest chairs, and a bookcase tucked into the corner. There’s no room for anything else in the cramped space.
At least, I have a window. Otherwise, the small space would be uncomfortable for me, given we work with the office doors closed most of the time. Someday, I’ll earn my way to a spacious corner office and be more at ease. At least, that’s the plan.
As Stuart sits, I hesitate, trying to decide whether to sit on the second guest chair or behind my desk. Ultimately, I choose the chair next to Stuart. My goal is to convince him not to share anything about our prior meeting. That doesn’t seem like a topic to handle across a desk.
Before I can say anything, Stuart narrows his eyes as they lock onto mine, saying, “I’m told your law firm values your top clients and prides itself on knowing everything about them. Am I correct in assuming that means you recognized me in the lift on Friday evening?”
My jaw drops.