CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ZANDER
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I’m not surprised when Sebastian strides into my office the next week.
I returned from the restroom to get Courtney’s purse on Friday night, telling the group that she was unwell. Tear lines streaked her face, and she didn’t want to come back into the room.
“Oh, no.” Kylie stood, but I told her to stay and have fun.
“I’ll make sure she gets home.” I tossed back the last of my drink from my standing position and let out a gasp. I was still reeling from having my client in my arms. “I trust my friends will see you get home safely, Kylie.”
Not that she wasn’t capable of it herself, but it was my way of letting the boys know I wanted them to take care of her.
They would anyway.
And if it didn’t occur to them, Miss Meddling—aka Emily—wouldn’t let her leave without offering Kylie a ride home.
“She’s in excellent hands.” Dereck grinned.
Damon shook his head behind his back repeatedly in good humor, all like, no, no, stay away from him.
Kylie giggled.
I’ve yet to learn whether he took her home, but I’d give it a strong ninety percent chance.
Now I’m about to get my ass reamed by one of my best friends. The one who watched my every move last Friday.
“What the fuck are you doing, Zander!? Throwing away your career for a divorcee that for all intents and purposes has committed adultery!” Sebastian booms as he slams my door closed.
I stand.
“We don’t know that. And I am not talking about my client.” I growl as I push a button to close the shutters in my office, giving us privacy.
“Rich.” He rolls his eyes.
Fair, but I’m not letting him know that. I’m the shark, remember.
“And is that all you got from my speech? Did you miss the seven years you studied to be a lawyer at fucking Harvard where you got honors and then spent your entire career becoming the best of the best?”
I snarl.
Sebastian plants his hands on his hips. “And now you’re going to throw it all away. For pussy?”
“Watch your mouth!” I growl.
“Did you fuck her?”
I cross my arms.
“Jesus, Zander.” Sebastian shakes his head, glancing away.
“I didn’t fuck her,” I sigh. Dropping my arms, I point to the chairs in front of my desk. “Sit down.”
“No. I can’t punch sense into you from there.”
“Exactly,” I shoot him a half smile. We stare at one another for a long moment before he shakes his head and tugs one of the chairs around.
I lower back into my black executive chair and shift my keyboard over an inch or two. “Surprised you came alone.”
Normally, these interventions include two or three of us. Strength in numbers and all that. We’re all as pigheaded as one another, just in different ways.
“I’m the only one who noticed, although I think Dereck might suspect something.” Seb shifts his big frame to get comfortable in the seat. “What’s going on, Zander? This woman isn’t worth it.”
Again, my jaw tenses.
The woman has gotten under my skin, and I don’t just mean the way she has my body thrumming when she is near. I’ll protect my friends and family until death, but women have never brought out that need in me.
Until now.
It’s not like she’s some pathetic female who can’t speak up for herself or is close to being on the streets. What is it about Courtney Blackmore that makes me want to lift a sword and challenge anyone wanting to harm her to a duel?
Because that’s how it feels.
Taking her home and driving away was extremely difficult on Friday night. My hands were clenched fists as we rode side by side, the silk of her red dress drawing me like I was a damn bull.
Perhaps it was knowing I’d upset her.
Or perhaps it was seeing the glint of sexual arousal in her eyes when I told her I wanted to thrust my cock inside her and make her come.
God, I do.
The answer is: I know Courtney is holding back information, and I don’t trust her. She wants me to remain her attorney; therefore, my dick needs to stay behind my zipper like a prisoner.
“She’s my client. I just told you I didn’t sleep with her, Seb. Enough.”
His thick brow lifts. “But you wanted to.”
“Yes. I do. Because I have blood running through my veins and a cock between my legs. A big one, if we’re talking details.”
“You forget, I’ve seen it.”
“I’m older now.”
“And humbler.” Sebastian quirks his lips.
I chuckle, and the mood lightens. I want to ease his mind. I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize my career and reputation.
Sure, I nearly did.
I was inches from crushing my mouth to hers in that restroom, but I didn’t.
“She’s a gorgeous woman. More than gorgeous—”
“The entire room noticed.” Sebastian states. “And they also know you’re her attorney.”
“The entire country knows.” I shrug, “Escorting her home is not going to get me disbarred.”
He leans forward. “It raises questions. If I noticed, so will other people. Including Vanguard. He’ll use it against you.”
I am aware.
And he’s fucking correct.
My reputation is at stake here, and there doesn’t need to be proof when it comes to the court of public opinion. You just need to plant the seed of doubt.
And if Warren saw me leave with Courtney, and the state she was in, the only way I can turn it around is by making her a victim.
Courtney will be more than pissed if I do that.
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“WHAT THE HELL is this?” Courtney comes storming into my office two days later and tosses the New York Times onto my desk, seething.
I stand, tidy my shirt to make sure it’s tucked nicely into my pants and round my desk.
I close the door.
“Me fixing a potential disaster. You saw your husband’s social post,” I state.
“Ex.”
“Not yet.”
I lock the door.
When I turn, she’s pacing the floor. “You made me look like an idiot. Like I’m brokenhearted and regretful for leaving.”
I wish to God she would trust me. I expected this response from her, but it was a necessary step to take. Adam is playing dirty, and so we have to be strategic and play games, too.
Sebastian was right during his little mini-intervention; Vanguard used our exit from the Spring Gala to paint a picture of us being involved with one another. Media outlets and podcasters picked it up and ran with it. Social media is split down the middle.
Courtney is a whore.
Adam is evil.
Predictable as hell.
I immediately called my PR manager into my office, and we went into risk management mode. I should have consulted Courtney, but as this affected me far more than her, I had every right to speak up.
She can fire me if she wants.
She won’t.
“I did what was necessary to set the story straight and protect both of us. You know that. Do you really care what everyone thinks?”
I went on the record stating that Courtney and I were at the same event, and when I saw she was visibly upset, checked on my client. That she had suffered an anxiety attack and needed medication, and that I then escorted her home, where she had the appropriate pills and was able to rest.
She stops pacing the carpet and turns to me. I realize we are several feet apart, and it feels both too close and too far. “Yes, I care. Everyone now thinks I’m heartbroken over my husband and some nut case.
I rub the back of my neck, frustrated that she’s not able to see what I did it.
“Would you rather he uses this against you and reduce the settlement? Or get me disbarred?”
“No,” her cheeks are blushed from anger. “No! But...”
“But what?”
“Is that what you think truly happened?” she asks, and I frown.
“What are you talking about?”
I know what she’s asking but I’m hoping she’ll drop it. She doesn’t.
“On Friday. You stormed into the restroom. You almost kissed me. You tugged me against you and then held my hand the entire drive home.”
Fuck.
I had purposely blocked that part out. In my head, I told myself I didn’t touch her.
“Firstly, I don’t storm anywhere.” I snap, lying, because I have been known to storm a time or two. Yet we don’t need to go into that right now. “And it wasn’t a Homecoming dance, Courtney. You were upset; I was comforting you.”
More lies.
I wanted to keep touching her. To comfort her.
Her cheeks turn ruddy, and guilt washes through me momentarily. She deserves the truth, but I can’t give it to her. It’s dangerous for both of us.
Yet, I take a step closer.
Courtney’s eyes flare.
“Look,” I fight my hands to stay off her body. “You’re a very beautiful woman. Under different circumstances—”
Her eyes drop. “Don’t say it.”
“Why not?” I growl.
“Because I’d rather be angry at you. It helps.” Her voice is soft, pulling my very soul into hers like a demoness I should run from.
“Helps what?” My voice is rough and just as low.
Her pretty green eyes roam my face; her mouth gently opens, and potent chemistry rich with sexual energy begins to swirl around us like a tornado.
Jesus fuck.
I need to get her out of my office.