SCARLETT
The sign on Jameson’s firm has all its letters lit now, and instead of their former faint white glow, they’re welcoming me to enter Tate & Associates in a soft blue.
Since he hasn’t answered my last few text messages, I’ve tumbled down the rabbit hole of researching him and his career.
His twelve-year reputation for winning was the standout fact. I found a few heartwarming cases and headlines, but scattered among them were more questionable bylines that skewered him for “stealing a soul away from Hell.”
I didn’t want to believe any of those articles—but the more I read about his clients’ crimes, the more I noticed his obvious pattern.
The guiltier, the better.
And I didn’t understand how the same man who was willing to help save me from a bad loan would willingly represent the type of people who set it up.
Bookmarking a page on a recent drug-bust client, I slip into the janitorial closet and grab my cart.
“What are you doing here, Scarlett?” Mr. Brice looks up from his notebook as I approach.
“Just grabbing my cart, sir.”
“I meant in this building.” He smiles. “You were reassigned after your last shift.”
“Huh? What do you mean reassigned?”
“Apparently, Mr. Tate is looking into moving you into a part-time clerical position here at the firm,” he says. “You must’ve put that on your temp agency application?”
So he knows…? I can feel all the color draining from my face, feel my knees going weak.
“He’d much prefer if you did your cleaning work at the firm’s library that’s across the street. Effective immediately.”
“What?”
“You work at the library now.” He shrugs. “No mopping, just dusting and sweeping over there. Go on, now.”
I leave the room and head to the elevator bank instead, anxious to confront Jameson about this, but Mr. Brice emerges from the closet.
I sigh and leave, walking out of the building and across the street.
Are you purposely avoiding my phone calls and texts?
You’re starting to sound like a stalker, Scarlett…Don’t make me sue you. (I’ll win)
You know what I mean.
I don’t.
Is this because I’m twenty?
It’s because of A LOT of things.
Name five.
After you pick up a broom. How’s the cleaning job going?
I stare at his message in disbelief—half hurt, half confused about him throwing this job in my face.
Okay, Jameson… FUCK YOU.
I don’t fuck minors.
I’m NOT a minor.
You might as well be.
I groan and half-ass dust the bookshelves that look like they haven’t been touched in over a decade.
I take a seat near the corner and simply wait for a sign of life before pretending to clean again.
In the middle of mime-cleaning the windows, I spot Jameson walking out to his car with an assistant close behind.
She begins placing boxes into his trunk, so I take my chance and rush downstairs.
His assistant is returning inside as he’s sliding behind the wheel, so I open the passenger door and slide onto the seat.
“We need to talk, Jameson,” I say.
“I’m too far removed from my high school days.” He looks over at me. “Surely you can find someone else to discuss mean girls and crushes.”
“I’m in college, asshole.”
“Thank you for finally admitting to what I already discovered days ago,” he says. “Good to know you’re dropping the marketing career angle—unless you want to hold on to that one?”
I gasp.
“Oh?” He glares at me. “You thought I wouldn’t figure that out, too?”
“I was planning to tell you about that...”
“When?” he asks. “When I was balls deep inside you?”
“No...”
“You’re at Hudson University, but you used to be at Harvard until—what? You decided to take your acting major to a whole new level by pretending to be someone new every day?”
“You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Doubt it,” he says. “Get out of my car. Now.”
“No. I need you to listen to me.”
“Okay.” He puts the car in park, and I let out a sigh.
But then he steps out and walks back toward the firm, leaving me inside.
“What the hell?” I step out and follow him.
“Jameson, seriously?”
“Yes, fucking seriously.” He spins around and glares at me. “What the fuck do you want to talk to me about?”
His roar echoes through the empty halls, and if there’s anyone on this level, I know they heard him.
“Hello?” He arches a brow. “What do you have to say?”
“I...” I lose my train of thought, and I can suddenly hear the same sound that ended our conversation weeks ago.
“Here.” Jameson grabs my hand and pulls me inside the mailroom.
Then he crosses his arms. “Talk away, Scarlett.”
“I only lie when it’s a means to get what I want.”
“That’s literally what every liar says.”
“It’s every lawyer, too,” I say. “Especially someone like you, right?”
He blinks.
“You seem like you’d like an established woman, so...” I shrug. “It’s not like I tried to trick you into marrying me.”
“Just fucking you.”
“You didn’t need to be tricked.” I roll my eyes. “I like you, and I think you like me, too... And I turn twenty-one soon, so I really don’t see the big deal.”
He serves me a blank stare.
“Your bio says you’re only twenty-eight.”
“My bio from eight years ago.”
I mentally calculate the math, realizing he’s thirty-six.
“Oh,” is all I can say.
“Are we done talking now?” he asks, dropping his arms. “Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“If I was thirty, would this be better?”
“Probably.”
“And you’re no longer attracted to me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But we’re done?”
“Yes, Scarlett.” He moves closer to me. “We are very much done.”
“I’m sorry...”
“Don’t be.” He stamps his mouth over mine, kissing me until all the breath leaves my lungs, until my knees begin buckling.
He gently pushes me to the side until my hips hit the desk.
Then he tears his mouth away and lifts me onto the top of it.
“Lay back.” He presses his hand against my thighs. “Now.”
I oblige, shutting my eyes as he slides my dress up to my stomach.
The sound of my panties tearing echoes off the walls, and the next thing I feel is his tongue darting against my clit.
“Ahhh...” I moan as he swirls his tongue against me, as he keeps me pinned down.
Unfamiliar pleasure wracks through me, and the moans that leave my lips become even louder.
Suddenly, he releases my left thigh, and before I can make my next move, he slides two fingers deep inside me.
Thrusting them in and out between his kisses, he renders me helpless within seconds.
I lean forward and grab a fistful of his hair, silently begging him to slow down.
My pleas are ignored with a deep stroke from his fingers, with him sucking my clit between his lips.
I writhe under his control, feeling na?ve at this level of pleasure.
“Stop trying to get away from me...” He grabs my legs and places them over his shoulders. Then his mouth returns to my pussy, trapping me in an ecstasy I can’t escape.
I’m so close to the edge, so close to feeling what I’ve always wanted, and then...
“Oh my God...” My entire body trembles and heat explodes inside me all at once.
I feel him hold me as I shake, feel him pressing kisses against my skin.
“Good girl,” he whispers. “You look fucking beautiful coming for me...”
I’m not sure how long I lie suspended between bliss and disbelief, but when I open my eyes, he’s pulling a condom from his pocket.
I take a few deep breaths, and his eyes meet mine.
“Hope you don’t think that’s the only time you’ll come for me tonight,” he says.
“Wait.” I sit up. “Wait a minute...”
He arches a brow. “Something wrong?”
“Yes... I need to tell you something.”
“At this exact moment?”
“Yes...”
“Okay.” He sets the condom on the desk. “I’m listening.”
“Well, it’s kind of hard.”
“It’s very hard.” He glances at his cock, then back at me.
My cheeks flush red, but I don’t break.
“So, I’ve done this before with a few boyfriends—and a few other things too?—”
“I can assure you I don’t give a single fuck about your dating history, Scarlett...”
“I’ve never had full-blown sex before, though.” The words rush from my mouth. “It’s gotten close, but I always panic—like stage fright or something—so I...”
He blinks.
“I just thought you should know,” I say. “Sex with you will be my first time.”
“So, on top of everything else we just attempted to sort out—all of your piecemeal bullshit that somehow keeps getting worse and worse…” He speaks slowly. “You’re a virgin?”
I nod. “But it doesn’t change anything between us. I do want to have sex with you—right now—and I know I won’t regret it.”
“Okay.” He steps back and pulls up his pants. He zips them up and stuffs the condom into his pocket.
He grabs his blazer from the chair and strolls out of the room without ever looking back.
And he doesn’t return.