Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
LEO
“What’s Leo short for?”
“It isn’t. It’s just Leo.”
“Your name isn’t Leon? Leonard? Leonardo?”
“Nope. It’s just Leo.”
* * *
The following Monday I was securing my bag into the basket on the back of my bike with a big, stupid grin on my face.
Because I was excited to see Jacqueline today. We didn’t get together again because of a rugby match, which Jacqueline was invited to but politely declined because Zaid was on my team, and she was still wanting to keep our relationship to ourselves. Then I had dinner with Mary and Jamie, followed by playing board games the rest of the night. It was only two days apart, but I was motivated to go into work as soon as possible just to see Jacqueline blush when she remembered what happened between us last night.
I pulled my phone out of my jeans to double-check our messages, because I couldn’t stop looking at them.
Last night Jacqueline sent me a risqué selfie.
She was in a black lace bra and panty set, her face off-camera, as she lay in bed in the most mouthwatering pose. Underneath the image, she asked if I would be willing to take one for her.
Following her lead, and leaving my face out of the shot, I donned my motorcycle helmet and sent her an image back.
I was proud of my work. I put in effort so the lamp in my room cast flattering shadows over my lean muscles. I had some definition to show off for her. I angled the camera in a way I had seen many female boudoir photographers suggest for men who wanted to send their partners spicy, flattering, pictures.
It took a while, but I managed to set up the shot just how I wanted.
I sat in front of my standing mirror, looking like I was taking a casual selfie. Except I was shirtless, in loose sweatpants that didn’t hide my erection from her, with one leg propped up suggestively. My head, with the motorcycle helmet on, was cocked to the side as I placed my hand dangerously close to the low, low band of my pants.
When Jacqueline received the picture, she immediately FaceTimed me.
Which proceeded to the hottest dual masturbation session of my life.
I was just admiring Jacqueline’s picture when a woman’s voice caught my attention.
“Leo Turner?” I lifted my head, locking my phone so no one else could see what I was drooling at before work. A blonde woman with a cream sweater and jeans was walking toward me, a curious look on her face.
“Hmm?” I asked.
She paused a couple of feet away from me, just outside of my building, to reach into her shoulder bag.
“Are you Leo Turner?” she asked.
“Yes.” I tilted my head, wondering why anyone would need to approach me at seven in the morning.
She nodded, before removing a folder from her bag and handing it to me while saying, “You’ve been served.”
Oh, fuck me.
* * *
“I have a question for you and I apologize in advance for it.” I was an anxious mess, the pen I snagged from my desk twirled around and around in my fingers. I didn’t take a seat in Brandon’s office, instead I paced back and forth. He studied me from his chair, his hands casually crossed over his chest as he furrowed his dark blonde brows.
“What is it?”
I gave him what I hoped was a charming, self-deprecating grin, before deciding to drop it with a shake of my head.
Charm wouldn’t help me here.
“I messed up,” I managed to get out, “I know that Sun Steer is sponsoring my visa while I go through the clusterfuck of American citizenship, but…” I pulled the file from my bag, showing him the papers discussing the assault charges that Vincent Lee was pressing against me.
“What is this?” Brandon asked, still not looking disappointed quite yet, but more confused.
“I need a lawyer. Not my immigration one,” I rushed out, finally dropping my weight into a chair across from him. I didn’t love going to my boss for something like this, but he was the one who got me a job here in the first place. It felt less scary going to the CEO of Sun Steer than Mary Jiang, who would rip me a new arsehole if she found out I had been in the States for less than a year and already had assault charges under my belt.
My mums didn’t need to know about this, either.
“…Want to tell me why you’re being charged for assault?” Brandon asked after going through the papers in the folder.
“It was self-defense.” It was true, even though Vincent never stood a chance against me. Growing up in my specific area of South London, I learned how to fight bullies before I learned how to code in JAVA. In my neighborhood, being targeted by everyone and their mother for— gasp —having crushes on girls and boys in my class, I also had to learn how to end fights as quickly as they started.
If I was the toughest kid on the playground, nobody could shove my head in the toilets.
“I see,” Brandon frowned, studying the papers, before scraping a hand down his face and pulling his mobile out, “Lucky for you, I know someone.”
“Thank god.” I sighed. Brandon gave me an unimpressed look before dialing and setting his phone to speaker.
It rang three times, with no answer.
Brandon rolled his eyes and dialed again, and this time someone answered on the second ring.
“Yeah?”
“Graham? You busy?” Brandon asked. I raised my eyebrows. I thought his brother was a farmer. Not a lawyer.
“Not at the moment,” Graham grunted, and then a loud thud echoed over the speaker before he shifted the phone and his voice became clearer, “What’s up?”
“I have a case for you,” Brandon lifted his eyes to mine, and I fought the urge to shrink into my seat, “One of my employees is being charged with assault but needs someone to help him prove it was self-defense.”
“Ah,” Graham grunted again, and part of me wanted to ask what the hell he was doing, but I refrained, “Was there video footage of the incident?”
Brandon gave me a questioning look, so I leaned forward to respond, “I can ask the pub we were in. I’d be surprised if they didn’t.”
“Excellent, send me the details.” Graham hung up the phone after that.
I gave Brandon a nervous look as I spun the pen right out of my hand. It flew across the room, smacking against his wall. I jumped out of my seat to retrieve it, before turning back to the CEO.
Brandon was just studying me, a blank expression on his face.
“I apologize,” I scratched the side of my head with the cap of the pen, “I know this doesn’t look good for me. Or you.”
Brandon shrugged his shoulders, “Vincent probably deserved it.”
I blinked at Brandon, “What? You know this prick?”
Brandon sighed and nodded, “He came here a few weeks after Jacqueline started.” I widened my eyes in shock because I had no idea, “He heard I was interested in hiring employees from Blix and tried to convince me to hire him on. But he gave me an uneasy feeling,” Brandon frowned, “I tend to trust my gut about these things.”
I sat down in the chair again, my attention completely focused on the CEO, “I kindly turned him down. He wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept emailing me. Even showed up a handful of times, inviting me out to lunch with him. As if I didn’t have a full schedule.” Brandon shook his head, “When I was following him out of the building, he noticed Jacqueline leaving the lot,” I held my breath as Brandon leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms again, “Let’s just say, he felt too comfortable voicing his thoughts about her in my presence. I told the building’s security not to let him back on the premises. He then sent me a very colorful email letting me know what he thought of that.”
“Jesus Christ.” I leaned back in my chair, surprised to hear this from Brandon Moore of all people.
“I ended up reaching out to my connections at Blix, which filled me in on some unfortunate circumstances that, I assumed, led to Jacqueline being interviewed and hired here.” Brandon raised an eyebrow, “What I want to know is, how you got involved with him.”
The heat of embarrassment rushed under my skin before I realized that the answer to this question wasn’t as scandalous as it could be.
“Jacqueline and I went to that new taco joint a couple of blocks away, for lunch,” I jutted a thumb over my shoulder, probably in the entirely wrong direction, but whatever, “He saw her there and started saying some crude things about her.”
“Not surprised,” Brandon chimed in, a frown pulling at his lips.
“I told him to sod off—then he threw the first punch,” I rushed to say, because for some reason that detail felt important, “Though, I threw the last. I didn’t realize it would knock him on his arse…but I wasn’t upset about it, either.”
Brandon nodded, his eyes landing on the stack of papers on his desk.
“I never told Jacqueline that Vincent came here after she was hired,” Brandon pressed his lips together in thought, “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning. There’s a reason we promoted her to CHRO, we don’t want to lose her. However…” Brandon sighed and rested his elbows on his desk, a pinch forming in his brow, “I’m wondering if we should tell her about this.”
“This,” I pointed to my assault charges, “I don’t think she needs to concern herself with. This is between me and him. Her name isn’t anywhere on these documents. I checked.”
Brandon nodded, “I’ll check in with building security to make sure he’s still not allowed on the premises. It’s not a good thing that he’s still so bitter years later. A man who is willing to hold a grudge for that long is probably dangerous.”
I agreed. It made me sick to my stomach, but I also didn’t want to ruin Jacqueline’s day with drama from her ex-boyfriend. I didn’t want my assault charges to give her any reason not to keep seeing me the way I wanted to keep seeing her.
Perhaps it wasn’t fair to keep her in the dark.
He was her ex-boyfriend, after all.
But I wasn’t a perfect man by any means, so I decided I would tell her about it after it was all taken care of.
* * *
A week later, I met Graham Moore in person.
And the lad was fucking fit.
Brandon gave me Graham’s number after I approached him in his office, and Graham and I have been in contact since. Thankfully, the pub did have video footage of that night and was very happy to hand it over for our case. They also had statements from employees working that day who had already dealt with Vincent’s volatile behavior before Jacqueline and I showed up.
“As you can see, it’s a reach to try to call what happened, assault. It’s in your best interest to drop these.” Graham didn’t take a seat at the conference table. We weren’t meeting in Sun Steer’s building; we were meeting two buildings over on the same campus, where Vincent was allowed to go. The four of us sat in the otherwise empty conference room, where Vincent glared at me from across the table, next to his lawyer. His face looked healed, minus the tiniest scar on his cheek from when my fist broke his skin.
“But—” Vincent spoke up, but his lawyer lifted a hand as she spoke over him. He tensed at the action; a vein started to bulge in his neck right when she started to speak.
“My client and I would like a moment to discuss, if you wouldn’t mind.” She glared at Vincent, properly annoyed at the inconvenience this arsehole was causing everyone.
In response, he pounded his fist on the table in irritation and glared at me.
His lawyer jumped from the motion but straightened her posture as she frowned at him.
“Of course.” Graham turned his massive frame toward the doorway, keeping a wary eye on Vincent, and I followed him out. I had an inch or two on him, but the bloke was solid muscle. It was like looking at a rugged, beefy, cowboy version of Brandon. With a full blonde beard.
“Do you think they’ll drop the charges?” I asked my new friend and lawyer in a low voice. Graham removed his cowboy hat—because he wore a fucking cowboy hat to this—and brushed his hair back before placing it back on his head. He glanced over his shoulder, keeping his gaze where we could see Vincent and his lawyer bickering with low voices. Based on the way Vincent’s face reddened and his nostrils flared, I’d say things were looking good for me.
His lawyer, though, was clearly on her last straw. Vincent pounded both of his fists on the table before hissing something between his teeth at her, and she responded by shaking her head and gathering her things, refusing to look at him.
“They’ll drop them,” Graham murmured, “I don’t know how good you are at reading body language, but that woman fucking loathes him.” Then he pulled out a small black box, no bigger than the palm of his hand, brought it to his lips, and inhaled.
My lawyer had just taken a hit of a vape pen.
Welcome to California.
“I managed to pick up on those not-too-subtle signals, yes,” I leaned against the wall, keeping our conversation low so our voices didn’t echo across the lobby, “Could you do me a solid and connect with my immigration lawyer? I don’t want this to fuck with any of that.”
Graham winced, before lifting a massive shoulder in a casual shrug, “I would hope it wouldn’t, since you weren’t at fault here. But I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, mate.” I clapped him on the shoulder.
He nodded, and took another hit of his pen, before pocketing it.
Fucking legend.
The doors to the conference room burst open, and Vincent stomped toward the two of us with his hands balled into fists. Graham and I immediately straightened our postures, and in response, Vincent halted his approach. He huffed through his flaring nostrils, and his narrowed eyes bounced in contemplation between Graham and me.
I was in disbelief that this man was clearly considering starting another physical altercation with me.
Seconds after being humbled by our lawyers.
Vincent shook his head once and spat on the ground, before shoving his hands in his pockets and turning toward the exit. I was so shocked by the insanity of his behavior that I chuckled, loud enough for Vincent to glare at me over his shoulder, letting me know he did not find any of this amusing. His shoulders were scrunched high enough to almost cover his ears as he stormed out of the building.
Moments later, his lawyer stepped into the lobby and approached us, “My client has decided that all charges will be dropped,” she held her hand out for Graham and me to shake, “I’ll send everything to the address here?” She held a piece of paper, and when Graham double-checked the address, he nodded his confirmation. Then she nodded her head and followed her client out of the lobby.
Then I buckled over, with my hands supporting my weight on my knees, as I wheezed through my relief.
“Oi, I could kiss you on the mouth,” I gasped, as I stood tall again.
Graham lifted an unimpressed blonde brow, reminding me so much of his brother, “I’d rather you just pay me like everyone else.”
“If you insist.” I nodded, wrapping him up in a hug.
Graham grunted, patting his rough palm on my back twice, and pulled away.
“Are you excited about the new equipment being built for your property?” I asked as we exited the building to walk through the courtyard.
“Huh?” Graham was checking his phone now, his Timberland boots thudding loudly with each step he took, “Oh, yeah. Super thrilled.”
I snorted, “So that’s a no.”
“What do you mean?” Graham’s voice was laced with thick sarcasm, “It’s not like every movie ever has specifically warned society about what happens when you give computers too much power.”
I threw my head back and laughed, “Are you worried the tractor will run off with all your produce?”
His lips quirked under his thick facial hair, “I can barely check my email. Why Brandon thinks I can launch his fancy new tech for his fancy company, is beyond me.”
“Well, that’s why we are sending an engineer to you. To help with the transition. It’s a learning process.” I saw a flash of blue out of the corner of my eye, and grinned.
Speak of the devil.
“Hi Vi—” She bulldozed between the two of us, her phone to her ear and her bag clutched in her hands as she sprinted towards the car park. She was rambling something about waiting until she got there, and I shook my head.
I’d check in with her another time.
Graham grunted, and when I turned to look at him, he was holding his side, “Small thing knows how to work through a crowd.” He lifted his flannel shirt as if to check for injuries, and I laughed again.
“Are you coming up?” I asked my lawyer.
“Sure, I want to say hi to Brandon.” He pulled his shirt back down, threw a puzzled look over his shoulder, and shook his head before following me into Sun Steer’s building.