CHAPTER FOUR — CONFESSING MY SINS
Marnie
The next day, I have plans to grab lunch with a new friend from the firm, Eliza.
She’s also a paralegal, but the gorgeous blonde has been around longer than me, so she’s probably a few years older.
Still, Eliza knows her way around Gibson Grant, and that’s one of the reasons why I want to get lunch with her: to pick her brain a little about my dominating bosses, and their dirty predilections.
I step into Cafe Baptiste, which happens to be the tiniest, most chaotic café within walking distance of the firm.
It’s packed—table-to-table office drones, line cooks in full clatter, grad students hunched over laptops—and I instantly regret my choice.
But Eliza’s already claimed a two-top by the window, waving at me.
The other paralegal looks good. Better than me, for sure: golden hair down and glossy, not a hint of dark circles or lipstick on teeth.
Her jacket’s thrifted tweed, but she wears it like it’s custom.
She smiles when she sees me, the real kind that splits her whole face, remembering what it’s like to have an actual friend.
“Over here, Marnie!” she calls, standing up to give me a welcome hug.
I hug her back, but I can’t relax. My arms are stiff and my jaw’s got that post-dentist numbness from clenching. When we sit, I clutch my water glass with both hands, not because I’m thirsty, but to hide how bad I’m shaking.
Eliza raises an eyebrow. “You look like you just gave blood and failed the snacks.”
I try to smile, but my face forgets how. “It’s been a weird day.”
She snorts. “Yeah, that’s how the firm can be sometimes,” she says with a sassy smile before leaning in. “If you need to bury a body, Marnie, I’m not great with shovels, but I can drive the getaway car.”
For a second, I want to blurt everything—the plug, the spanking, the fact that my body’s a ticking time bomb—but the words get tangled behind my teeth. I take a huge gulp of water instead, buying time.
Eliza’s blue eyes go soft. “Hey, you know you can tell me anything, right? I know we just met, but it’s okay. I’ve been at Gibson Grant for five years, and know how difficult it can be to work there.”
I shoot her a rueful look.
“Even though I only just started at the firm?”
She nods, eyes widening.
“Especially since you just started. Spill, girl. What’s on your mind?”
I take a deep breath before shooting her a look.
“Well, I’m not just here for a job.”
She blinks. “Okaaaay. So you’re here for the experience? The money? Because as paralegals, we don’t make much.”
I shake my head.
“No, I mean yes. I’m not just here to pay off my loans. I’m investigating something. About my family.”
A long pause. “The Williams thing?” she asks, cautious.
I jerk back. “Wait, you know?”
Eliza shrugs.
“The Stanley Williams case was the biggest thing at the firm a couple years back. I remember working dawn to dusk for months on that case, and Marnie … you look just like him.”
I swallow hard, staring at my clasped fists.
“My dad. Yeah, I’m Stanley’s daughter.” The air goes hollow, like the room just got vacuumed clean.
Eliza sets her drink down with trembling fingers. “Shit, Marnie. I’m sorry about the loss of your dad. We all think he should have been spared the death penalty. That’s why we worked so hard.”
I swallow, staring down at the table.
“No, it’s okay. I don’t talk it about it a lot, and thank you for your dedication. I know everyone at Gibson Grant slaved away, trying to save his life.”
My new friend takes another sip of her drink. “So do you want to talk about it? I assume that’s why we’re here, right?”
I stare out the window, watching rain bead down the glass in streaks. “Yes, and no. Sometimes, it’s easier not to discuss the execution. When people find out, they treat me like a bomb or a sob story. I didn’t want you to treat me any different.”
The pretty brunette reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. “Never. That’s not—” she cuts herself off, voice thickening. “You think I’d give a shit if you were the daughter of Godzilla?”
I look up, blinking fast to clear the burn from my eyes. “I just… I needed someone to know. Because I’m in too deep, even though I just started here, and I can’t tell if I’m losing my mind or if I’m actually onto something.”
The other paralegal sits back, crossing her arms. “Okay, but what do you mean? Why would you lose your mind now? Is there something new?”
I lower my voice while nodding. “The trial. I think there was a cover-up. Evidence, missing or faked. Brent and James—they were my dad’s lawyers, and now I work for them. I’m trying to get to the truth.”
Eliza whistles. “Jesus, Marnie.”
“I found files,” I say, softer. “Stuff that doesn’t match the public record. I got caught with them yesterday by Brent Gibson himself.”
Eliza’s silent, chewing her lip. “Did he fire you?”
“No. He threatened me. Then told me to be honest. Then… he, well, did something else.”
Eliza’s eyes go wide, her cheeks flushing. “Oh my god. He fucked you, didn’t he? OMG, OMG!”
I feel my cheeks go molten. “Not exactly, but it was intense.”
She gives me a look—half amused, half rueful. “So it wasn’t sex?”
I shrug, sheepish. “Sort of. We didn’t get to home base, but he did something else. And I went along with it because what am I supposed to do? He’s huge. And intense. And hot.”
Now my new friend leans in, her voice barely above a whisper. “If you’re sleeping with the enemy, you need a plan, girlfriend. Like, a safe word or a dead man’s switch. Have you told anyone else at the firm yet?”
“No. Just you.”
She nods, solemn. “That’s smart. Because if there’s a cover-up, you don’t know who’s dirty.”
Now, I’m starting to get confused because are we talking about my dad’s case, or the fact that I was finger-fucked by Brent Gibson yesterday?
The noise from the café ratchets up, and for a moment it feels like the whole world’s clamoring and raucous.
I glance at the people in line, the barista banging grounds into the bin, the guy behind us shouting into a headset.
Nobody’s listening, but I feel naked still.
Eliza taps the rim of her mug. “So what now?”
I tell her about the dinner invitation. “Brent wants me to come over for dinner tonight, and it’s not just that. James Grant is going to be there, so it’s both of them.”
Eliza stares at me, mouth agape. “Both? Like, as in—”
“Yeah.”
She laughs, but there’s an edge to it. “Marnie, you realize you’re about to get double-teamed by your dead father’s lawyers, right?”
My ears burn so hard I think they’re going to combust. “I’m not… I mean, I don’t know.”
She shakes her head, smiling. “You are in seriously hot water, mamacita. I honestly think you’ll be expected to take them both, like spit-roasted in the dirtiest way possible. But do you trust them?”
I think about it. The way Brent looked at me. The way James’s emails made my stomach clench. The raw, electric force of them together makes my pussy weep, even in the busy atmosphere of the cafe.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I want to, which is probably the stupidest thing ever. Seriously, slap some sense in me. I’m begging you, girlfriend. Just do it before I go insane.”
My new pal merely smiles and rolls her eyes. But then she reaches for my hand again, this time gripping hard. “Just promise me something, Marn. Don’t lose yourself in this. If it gets ugly, walk away.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my lip trembling.
Eliza purses her lips, choosing her words carefully.
“Listen. I don’t know what Mr. Gibson and Grant are like behind closed doors, but I hear rumors.
They’re alpha males who are intense. Competitive, even.
Brutal in bed. You get the picture. They’re sharks in the courthouse, but also in their private lives, and they steamroll every woman they desire. ”
I smile, weak. “Yeah, I got that.”
She shakes her head.
“You think you can handle them?”
“I think I have to because how will I get information about my dad from them otherwise?”
Eliza squeezes my hand again, then lets go. “I don’t know, Marnie. I guess this is the only way.”
I shake my head and then take another sip of my water before smiling at Eliza brightly.
“You know, we haven’t even ordered yet, and I just realized I’m not hungry. I’m going to go back to the office and get some work done. Is that okay with you? We can catch up later, maybe around three for a coffee break?”
The other paralegal nods, sensing my need to be alone.
“Of course, Marn.” She hugs me, whispering, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say with a rueful smile and then turn to the door.
When I step back onto the street, I feel lighter and heavier at the same time.
The air is cold, sharp enough to sting my lungs, but I walk with my head up.
I made a promise, and I plan to keep it.
Even if I have to walk straight into the lion’s den.
Tonight, I’ll be honest.
And I’ll find out if the wolves bite harder when they hunt together.
I don’t even get two steps out of the café before I realize I’ve left my phone sitting on the table, screen-up with the dinner invitation in full view. I double back, cursing my idiot brain, and find Eliza grinning at the text like a cat with a half-dead mouse.
“Wear sexy lingerie?” she stage-whispers, brandishing my phone like it’s radioactive. “I couldn’t help but see, girlfriend. I swear, I wasn’t spying.”
I snatch it back, my cheeks going red. “It’s just underwear,” I hiss, like that’s going to convince anybody. “Everyone wears it. So what if it’s lacy?”
Eliza merely smiles, this time dropping her voice to a low purr. “A private dinner, Marnie. With both of them. At their apartment. Spit-roast. Double-teamed. Sandwiched.”
She lets the words hang, and I can feel every molecule of my body heat up, starting at my neck and flaming straight down to my thighs.
“Oh my god, you’re so bad,” I mumble, digging my nails into my palm.