Chapter 3
He’s tall, at least six foot two, with a jawline that looks like it could have been chiseled by Michelangelo, and hair just long enough to make him fit for an Abercrombie and Fitch ad.
He’s left the top button of his shirt undone, a calculated rebellion that somehow makes him seem both approachable and untouchable.
He flashes a grin that starts crooked, then straightens itself into something devastatingly symmetrical as he closes the distance between us and extends the coffee in my direction.
I’m suddenly aware that I haven’t blinked in several seconds.
“For you,” he says, dimples framing his absurdly handsome smile. “I’m Nash Collins,” he adds.
“Avery Anders. It’s nice to meet you. I’m looking forward to working with you and Vanessa,” I stammer.
“Right,” James interjects. “If everyone is acquainted…”
I catch the scowl on Vanessa’s face, her displeasure painted clearly.
“Avery,” James says, drawing my focus away from the obvious annoyance on Vanessa’s perfect features. “Get settled into your office, and either Nash or Vanessa can help you set up your computer with our case management software and all the firm-specific programs we use.”
Vanessa’s frown deepens, and I can’t tell if it’s just me or if she’s having a bad morning.
Nash closes the gap between us as I watch James walk away, his authority an attractive force of its own. Vanessa watches, sharp and tense.
I’m still holding the coffee, warmth radiating up my arm and into my cheeks.
“Come on,” Nash says, brushing off the palpable silence. “Let’s get you all set up.” He offers a grin. “Wouldn’t want you feeling lost on your first day,” he adds, with a pointed look in Vanessa’s direction.
“Thanks,” I manage, as I follow him into my office.
Entering my workspace, a newfound sense of accomplishment overshadows the tension previously hanging in the air. I take a seat in my desk chair for the first time, running my hands along the black leather.
Nash pulls a chair from the opposite side of the desk around for a better view of my computer screen.
I’m too aware of Nash. How close he is. How casual he seems, completely unconcerned by Vanessa’s disapproval.
He scoots his chair nearer, our knees almost touching. My breath catches and he notices, glancing down with a knowing grin.
He leans across me, sliding my keyboard until it rests in front of him. I watch him work, his fingers flying across the keyboard with ease.
“Thank you for helping me with this. Vanessa seems like she wants nothing to do with her new attorney, so that’s—”
Nash interrupts me before I can finish, saying, “That’s just Vanessa. She does the bare minimum to keep her job here and gets away with it because she’s Richard Hollis’s niece.”
That explains the attitude.
I sink into my seat slightly, sighing. “Good to know.”
“Don’t worry. She’s only here until she finds a rich guy to sweep her off her feet and rescue her from having to work.” He glances at me before adding, “Her words, not mine.”
I can’t hide my surprise. “She told you that?”
He laughs, and the sound echoes between us. “Vanessa tells me a lot,” Nash says, eyes flicking over to meet mine. “Whether I care to hear it or not.”
Just then, my phone vibrates. I take a quick look, and it’s from Mina.
Mina
Drinks on me to celebrate your first day? I want all the details on the new boss!
I smile at the screen, imagining the way her eyes will widen when I tell her everything.
Just tell me when and where!
Leaning back with satisfaction as the last program installs, he says, “You’re all set. Big plans with your boyfriend tonight?”
I look over to meet his eyes, furrowing my brow in confusion until I realize.
“Is that your way of asking me if I have a boyfriend, Nash?” I tease.
He shrugs. “Do you?”
My cheeks heat instantly. The question is more loaded than he realizes, bringing up memories that still sting and threatening to plunge both of us into territory we definitely don’t need to be in.
I stare, caught between laughing and telling him how inappropriate this is. I’m his superior, technically. I know I shouldn’t entertain this attention from him, so I don’t.
“Nash, I’m flattered. Really. But I’m here to work. To make money. This job means more to me than you know, and I have a lot to prove. The last thing I need is a distraction from what I’m here to do.”
I try to sound stern, though I feel far from it.
His eyes light up and his dimples make another annoyingly cute appearance, like me finding him to be a distraction is a compliment.
It’s not.
I’m here to make a name for myself, not fuck my paralegal. Or at least that’s what I’m trying to remind myself, which is getting more difficult to do the longer I look at him.
I steel myself, turning to my computer screen.
“Shouldn’t you get back to work?” I tease, trying to deflect.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says in a way that tells me he’s unfazed by my scolding.
I roll my eyes, fighting back my smile, and nod my head toward my office door to let him know it’s time for him to leave. He stands, returning his chair to its rightful place.
Before he can step through the doorway, I stop him. “Nash.”
He turns back to me, eyebrows raised.
“Thank you for your help. And for the coffee.”
“Any time, Avery,” he says with a wink and closes my door, returning to his desk.
My thoughts drift back to Mina, and I check my phone.
Mina
The Cellar at 7:00?
See you then!
I spend the rest of the afternoon familiarizing myself with my new cases, pretending I can’t feel Nash’s eyes on me.
The glass walls of my office reveal every anxious movement, every slip in concentration.
He looks over every so often, each glance a reminder of his earlier question, leaving me with a fluttering feeling in my stomach that shouldn’t be there.
By five o’clock, the office’s ambient hum has receded to a low drone, and I realize how thoroughly the day has infiltrated my bones.
I slide the last file back into its folder and stare at the ceiling, trying to reconstruct what success was supposed to look like, because it’s definitely not me, half-seduced by my own paralegal and salivating after my boss.
Drinks can’t come soon enough.
I’m not sure what’s more exhausting: the work itself or the effort it takes to project the illusion of composure.
Maybe both.
One day in this office and my focus is already slipping, clouded by all kinds of inappropriate thoughts.
I gather my things and head to the elevator. The ride down sends a rush of relief over me, feeling like I can finally breathe for the first time today. I step out into the cool evening, headed towards my apartment to change out of my suit and into something more comfortable to meet Mina.
***
Mina sits across from me, sipping her martini and laughing at my animated retelling.
The place is packed for a Monday, a humming swarm of people trying to leave the workday behind.
“Let me get this straight,” she says, her eyes bright. “Your boss is a smokeshow, and now your paralegal wants to get in your pants?”
I laugh, but my nerves fire with uncertainty.
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t say he wants to get in my pants, Mina. It’s probably all in my head. First day nerves or something. I’m sure I was reading everything all wrong.”
I reach for my drink, anything to cover my vulnerability.
Mina makes a pffft sound.
“Look,” she says, launching into one of her no-nonsense monologues. “You have to stop doubting yourself. You’re a hottie and a total catch. And I’d be willing to bet both of those men are smart enough to see that.” She winks, taking a sip of her drink.
I let out a breathy laugh, bewildered at how sure Mina is about everything.
Our server brings two more martinis, an order of truffle fries, and seared tuna tacos. We dig in, not letting the food stall our conversation for a single second.
“They didn’t even tell me what I’d be doing until today,” I say through a mouthful of fries.
Mina shoots me a look as she swallows her drink.
“I know I should’ve asked, but I just didn’t care,” I admit. “I just had to get out of my old firm. Couldn’t stand the looks or the questions or the…” I trail off, not wanting to bring Pierce into this moment.
“Distractions?” Mina fills in, arching her eyebrow.
“Very funny,” I say, rolling my eyes. I sip the second drink she convinced me I needed and feel it slide over my nerves, coating them in something that feels close to peace.
“Sounds like you traded those for new ones,” Mina says, her voice warm, teasing. Her smile fades slightly as her eyes search mine. “But you seem happier already, Ave.”
I can’t help but smile.
“I am,” I say. “Really.”
Mina flags down a server for more drinks just as a band takes the stage in the back of the bar, readying for their set.
She leans in, her voice a whisper. “That guitar player is kind of hot,” she says, nodding toward the stage. I follow her line of sight.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” I say, tension creeping in.
I watch him pick up his guitar before angling my body away from the stage and hiding my face with my hand.
“That’s Nash. The one I was telling you about. From work.”
Her eyes widen, flicking from him to me and back. “The guitar player is Nash? Your Nash?”
I shift, uncomfortable with the possessiveness in her words. “Not my Nash,” I correct, feeling a rush of heat. “But yes, that’s him.”
Mina laughs, loud and musical, catching attention from people around us. “I know I told you not to fuck your boss, and I stand by that, but you should definitely fuck him.”
“Amina Hassan! I’m not fucking anyone. Especially not someone I work with and especially, especially not someone who is under me,” I whisper-yell at her.
“He should be under you, babe,” Mina jests, raising her eyebrows suggestively.