Chapter 4 #2
Now I have to justify why I should get my cases back.
As if recovering from injury and having a romance writer shadow me wasn’t enough humiliation.
The rest of the afternoon is spent reconstructing what I could of the Thornton case from memory and our digital files.
By the time 5 PM rolls around, I’ve compiled enough evidence of William’s incompetence to make a solid case for reclaiming what’s mine.
I enter my condo and immediately kick off my heel, letting it fly across the entryway, and grimace when I look at the medical boot.
The cool marble floor against my bare foot is the only pleasant sensation I’ve felt all day.
The rest of my body thrums with frustrated energy as I make a beeline for the kitchen.
I stop in my living room, grabbing the remote to turn on some music.
I need something to drown out the voice in my head telling me I’m losing my edge.
Scrolling through my playlists, I select ‘Anger Management’—a collection of girl K-pop groups that are perfect for rage-cooking.
As the first notes of EVERGLOW’s ‘Dun Dun’ blast through my apartment, I stomp toward my kitchen, medical boot thumping awkwardly against the floor.
After a gruesome hour with Caleb, I wasn’t able to get my case back from William.
I came well prepared and still fell short; now I’m stuck working alongside him on it.
Utter bullshit. I need to ensure this case goes as smoothly as I’d planned before I went on a leave of absence.
My phone rings loudly, halting me in my tracks as I head back to my purse.
Demi’s face fills the screen, her contact photo from a night when we both got spectacularly drunk and were forced into matching pink wigs.
She’s probably only just getting around to reading my SOS text from this morning, which I sent in a moment of pure, unfiltered panic.
I brace myself, pause the music, and swipe to answer.
She doesn’t even give me time for a greeting.
“He saw what?” bursts out at a pitch that rattles my eardrum.
I consider holding the phone away from my head, but I never win these battles.
“AND YOU DIDN’T LET HIM DEVOUR YOU RIGHT THERE?
That man is God’s gift to the romance community.
You know that, right? You have him within arm’s reach and you’re what, mortified?
Minji, do you understand how many women would literally murder you to be in your position? Including me!”
“Hello to you too, Demetria,” I deadpan, but there’s no use. She’s already on a roll.
“Hey, girl, hey! Sorry it took me so long. You know I’m training for that new florist gig at The Beaufort?
Turns out luxury hotels demand a lot more than ‘make it colorful and symmetrical,’ but whatever.
Anyway, back to you. You’re telling me you got Aaron Singleton—like, the actual best-selling author—shadowing you, and you didn’t immediately text me live updates?
I had to learn about your accidental striptease from a cryptic 8:43 AM text?
Girl, if you ever have a brush with greatness again, you better call me before you even put your bra back on. ”
“There won’t be a second time. Also, my bra was on.” I roll my eyes but can’t help laughing as I put the phone on speaker and head to the kitchen.
“First off, I barely know who this guy is. And yes, I should’ve locked the door,” I say, yanking open the fridge.
“Who shows up that early anyway? Even if I did tell him to.” My hand hovers over the kimchi container before moving to the eggs.
“Demi, is it weird that part of me… didn’t want him to look away? ”
“Finally!” Her voice bounces off the kitchen tiles. “The ice queen thaws! Look, you’re hot-blooded like the rest of us. And after what you went through last year. You deserve to feel something good again.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” I mutter, filling the kettle with water.
“When’s the last time you went on a date? Had sex? Hell, flirted with someone who wasn’t opposing counsel?”
“I have a life.” The kettle slams onto the burner.
“You have case files and instant ramen,” she shoots back. “Remember college Mimi? The one who danced on bar tops and skinny-dipped in the fountain after finals? That girl knew how to live.”
Now she’s in full-on lecture mode. Demetria doesn’t even stop to breathe, painting a picture of my past self like she’s narrating a documentary on extinct species.
I let her talk in circles for another five, maybe ten minutes, while I pour the hot water over my noodles.
Hearing Demetria rant and rave about my life is nothing new.
“Hello? Earth to Minji?”
I blink at my phone. “I’m here.”
“Hear me out. The weekend is coming up, and I’d recommend reading his newest book, Sinful Love. The audiobook was released two days ago and fuck me three ways to Sunday. He does the voice for the male character, Baron—one word: eargasm. Two words: Fuck me. Three words: Fuck me now. Four words—”
“Demi, please shut up.”
“Not the four words I was going to use, but nonetheless, listen to the audiobooks, please, I beg you. If that doesn’t convince you that being a muse for this man is an honor, I will give you my Birkin bag. And before you ask, yes, the black one you’ve been eyeing in my closet.”
I snatch up my phone quickly. “What was the name of the audiobook? Sinful Desires?” I open my Audible app.
“Sinful Love.” She chuckles.
That Birkin bag will be mine. I’ve been eyeing that bag for over a year now.
She hasn’t used it once. It’s a shame to have such a beautiful bag and not put it to good use.
Birkins were made to be worn, not shelved away to collect dust. I quickly add Sinful Love to my cart and click purchase before I can talk myself out of it.
The smug satisfaction in Demi’s voice makes me want to hang up on her, but the thought of that Birkin keeps me on the line.
“I bought it,” I announce flatly. “But don’t think for a second this means I’m interested in him. This is purely transactional—your bag for my time.”
“Sure, babes. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Demi’s laughter floats through the speaker. “But speaking of sleeping, I bet you wouldn’t mind—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” I warn, stirring my noodles. The steam rises to my face, a convenient excuse for the sudden warmth in my cheeks. “I’m only doing it for the bag.”
“For the bag. Right.”
“I don’t know why you sound like you don’t believe me.”
“Because I don’t. Didn’t you just admit you wanted him to look earlier?”
I have no defense because she’s right. For a split second in that moment with Aaron, I wasn’t Attorney Minji Lee. I was just Minji, a woman who felt seen for the first time in over a year.
“Fine,” I concede grudgingly. “He’s attractive. I’m not blind. But that doesn’t mean I want to sleep with him. That’s unprofessional.” I’ve probably slept with him already.
“Oh shut up!” she says. “Actually, how about you listen to the entire series? Book one is Sinful Sinner, then Sinful Lies, and lastly Sinful Love.” Her mind is already at full speed, miles ahead.
She pauses, almost as if she’s catching her breath.
“But if you finish the last book and you’re not willing to spread those legs for Aaron Singleton, you, my friend, might be the only woman on the planet immune to his voice, and not only will that Birkin be yours, I will even give you that Hermes bag.
” She’s relentless, but I know she loves a bet as much as I do.
“Deal!” I smile. “I’ve listened to plenty of audiobooks.
Not romance but same difference,” I add, hoping she’ll hear the confidence in my voice and realize she’s underestimated me again.
I’ve tackled legal texts longer than this man’s entire collection and lived to tell the tale.
“I have a bet to win, so I’m going to let you go.
I’ll give you an update after book one.”
“Sounds like a plan!” she chirps, and I can already tell she’s planning a victory speech for the end of this. “Oh, and babes, please use AirPods and a friendly reminder.” She pauses dramatically, milking the moment. “Try not to touch yourself.” She laughs as the call disconnects.
I shake my head at my phone, trying to push away the images she’s planted with her risqué commentary. Touch myself? Please. Does she really think I’m that desperate?
I purchased the other two books and pressed play on book one.
I can see those bags in my possession now because the first ten chapters of this novel do not give whatever Demi thinks it was supposed to give.
I must admit, Aaron does have a way with words and a knack for hooking you into the story in a way that could be dangerously addictive.
But when it comes to the main character, Janessa, I just can’t relate.
She’s the kind of heroine who would be killed off first in a horror movie—clueless, wide-eyed, and somehow always needing rescue.
It’s like she’s totally out of touch with reality, and as far as I’m concerned, she might as well live on a different planet.
It’s not surprising she doesn’t resonate with me and my pragmatic, real-world approach to life.
If you’re missing a few brain cells, then maybe you would connect with Janessa.
As the night draws on, I get comfortable in bed, finally putting in my AirPods.
Perhaps that is why I can’t get into this book; I’m not listening to it like Demi said to.
Maybe the AirPods add more oomph to the story.
Taking a deep breath, I settle under the covers like I’m about to embark on a serious mission and hit play.
Aaron’s voice is deep and commanding, and I find myself closing my eyes, picturing myself as the one with her hands tied above her head.
I’m the one with her legs wide open for him to do as he pleases.
The first moan he makes, I turn to lie on my back.
The second moan, my hands are dangerously close to slipping under the waistband of my panties.
“Do you like the way I make you feel?” I slowly circle my tongue around her nipple, and she withers beneath me. “I can’t wait to taste you.” I work my way down her body, kissing her pussy lips. “Tell me you want me to taste you. Tell me you want me to tongue kiss you here. Say it out loud.”
“Please, Aaron, please… please.” I sit up, pulling the AirPods out quickly, pausing the audio. Did I just answer? Shit. No more of this tonight.
My heart is racing, and I’m clenching my thighs together like I’m trying to protect something precious. This is ridiculous. It’s just a book, just words strung together by a man who makes his living selling fantasies to lonely women. Women like me—so maybe, in a sense, I am Aaron’s target audience.
Hell.
Demi can keep those damn bags.