Chapter 6 Roman
SIX
ROMAN
“Good morning, Mr. Reeves.”
Glancing up from the email I’m reading on my phone as I enter the suite of my new practice, I offer our secretary/paralegal, Maggie Cartwright, a genuine smile. “Good morning, Maggie. I don’t suppose you’ve considered calling me Roman yet?”
“No, sir, I haven’t,” she says with an indulgent grin as she rounds her desk to hand me my messages and the files I’ll need for my meetings today. Once I have everything in hand, she frowns. “Where’s your protein shake?”
Good question. It’s something I have with me every morning, and yet today I completely forgot it.
I’m a creature of habit and stick to a strict daily regimen I’ve had for years.
Up at four-thirty, in the gym by five, then showered, dressed, and out the door with briefcase and protein shake in hand to make it into the office no later than seven.
But now I’m missing one of those components, thanks to a pair of blue eyes the color of the Caribbean haunting my dreams last night and causing my shower to go long for something that has nothing to do with hygiene.
It’s been two months, and I still can’t get Addison Paige out of my head.
It’s like she’s taken up permanent residence in there.
I have half a mind to send her a bill for rent, but that would mean opening the lines of communication, and I’ve successfully managed to resist any and all temptation to contact her.
I just have to ignore it and continue to bury myself in my cases and get Reeves & Cooper, LLC off the ground and running.
It would probably also help if I made some time to meet up with one of my casual, call-me-when-you-want-me “friends,” but I can’t work up enough energy to do anything beyond have a couple of drinks when I get home before falling into bed.
“I was running late this morning and decided to skip it rather than be late for the seven-thirty meeting,” I lie smoothly. After all, I’m a lawyer.
“No worries, Mr. Reeves,” she says, grabbing her purse. “I’ll just run down to the coffee shop and grab you a breakfast sandwich.”
Only in her mid-thirties, Maggie has the most unique way of treating my partner, John Cooper, and me like her superiors and her sons at the same time. “That’s not necess—”
“Don’t even think about arguing. You’re not missing the most important meal of the day on my watch. Go get settled, and I’ll be right back.”
She’s out the door and hitting the call button for the elevator before I can say another word.
Chuckling to myself, I head down the hallway to the right of Maggie’s desk, which is my “wing” of the suite, with Coop’s being down the left hall.
Each side has a conference room, an office for the junior attorneys we’re hiring, and our much larger office at the end.
A small break room with a fridge, microwave, and espresso machine connects the two hallways, accessible from both sides.
The office suite isn’t huge, but Coop and I also leased the suites on either side of it for expansion a couple of years down the road.
Until then, we’re sub-leasing them to an accounting firm and chiropractor.
And since it’s a new building contracted by Danvers & Son Construction—Chance’s company—we got in during the first phase and were able to design the space to our tastes.
It’s what Chance refers to as Anchorman Chic due to the “rich mahogany, and leather-bound books.” Yeah, he’s a dumbass.
I toss the files Maggie gave me onto my desk and drop into my leather chair like a sack of potatoes.
I’m normally a well-oiled machine, but lately I’ve been having days where it feels like my gears are grinding together.
After the fitful night’s sleep and disruption in my morning routine, I feel like shit and I don’t hold out much hope for the rest of my Monday.
Bracing my elbow on the armrest, I press my thumb and forefinger against my closed eyes and pray the grit behind my lids disappears before meeting our new hires.
Two junior attorneys will be joining our practice.
They’ll be able to help on our cases, and we can groom them into the kind of lawyers we want representing our firm.
Coop did the interviewing and hiring since I was busy wrapping up a couple of cases at Reeves, Rotier, & Davis—my dad’s firm, where I’d practiced since graduating law school.
I don’t have hard feelings toward anyone there, my dad included.
They treated me well and taught me a lot.
But it was time to move on and make my own way.
I don’t like answering to others, and I was never going to make partner there.
Anyone only ever saw me as “Bill’s son.”
“You look like hell.”
Looking up, I find my partner standing inside my open doorway, impeccably dressed in a charcoal three-piece suit, hands in his pockets, and a too-bright grin on his face for such a crappy morning. “Fuck you, Coop. We can’t all wake up with a new woman in our beds every day.”
“Janice wasn’t new, but she is one of my favorites,” he says as he takes a seat in one of the guest chairs across from me. “Maybe you should follow my lead. A night of wild sex might diminish that world you’ve been carrying on your shoulders lately.”
I only grunt in response. We’ve both been stressed, getting this place going, transferring our clients from our former firms, taking care of the mountains of paperwork and everything else that never even crossed our minds that’s required to start a business.
It’s been a long couple of months, but we’re finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
Would a night of wild sex relieve some of my tension?
No doubt. Unfortunately, the term “wild sex” brings up images of blond hair clenched in my fist, a pink flush across creamy skin, and mile-long legs spread for me in a darkened alley.
My cock stirs to life every time I remember the way her breasts rubbed against my chest, the bright flames of arousal in her aqua eyes as she indulged voyeuristic tendencies she didn’t even know she had, and how her hot, tight pussy milked my balls dry when she finally came around me.
Fuck. I sit forward and pull myself closer to my desk.
The last thing I need is for Cooper to notice the semi I’m sporting in my suit pants.
If nothing else, I should seek out the company of a woman just to get Addison out of my mind.
I need to replace her with newer memories.
The only reason I’m thinking about her so much is because it’s the only sex I’ve had in months. Plain and simple.
“So how do you want to handle the new hires?” I ask, changing the subject. “Is there one you feel particularly attached to, or what?”
“I emailed you their CVs. I take it you didn’t look them over.”
“No, sorry. I was swamped with the Waterford divorce case last week. I trust you. Whatever you think will work best is fine with me.”
“Well, the one is the son of my uncle’s best friend, so he asked me to take him under my wing.
But I did my due diligence on the kid, and I wouldn’t have hired him if I didn’t think he had the chops to cut it.
He graduated at the top of his class two years ago and co-counseled on some decent cases over at Giglante Law Group. ”
“Sounds good,” I say with a nod. “Then I’ll take the other one. What’s his background?”
“Her.”
I arch a brow in my friend’s direction, wondering if he didn’t let his dick weigh in on the decision to hire her instead of going solely on her merits as an attorney. “You’re aware you can’t fuck an employee, right?”
“Don’t worry, she’s not my type,” he says with a wink. “But she might be yours, so you’d better watch yourself.”
I roll my eyes at his teasing tone. “Somehow, I doubt that.” Not many women are my type, and female attorneys in the bigger Chicago practices tend to be uptight and rigid to overcompensate for having vaginas in firms that are still very much “boys clubs.” Getting us back on track, I repeat my earlier question. “What’s her background, then?”
“Top of her class at Loyola. She’s young—only out of school for a year—but hungry, and I suspect a bit of a workaholic. But that also might be because she’s coming from Schmeel & Associates, and though she didn’t come right out and say it, I think we can both guess how she was treated there.”
Like shit. Richard “Dick” Schmeel was a male chauvinist prick who hired other male chauvinist pricks.
Then, to avoid any EOE complaints, they hire female interns and treat them like grunt workers.
I’ll have to retrain any bad habits they instilled in her over the last year, which could be a pain, but if Coop chose her over the other dozen or so candidates, she’ll be worth the extra effort and guidance she might require initially.
“Not a problem,” I say. “We’ll get her on the right track.”
“Here we go, Mr. Reeves.” Maggie rushes in with my breakfast sandwich and a stern order to eat the whole thing before I join Coop and the new hires who are waiting in his conference room already.
I mutter a “yes, ma’am,” and eat it quickly while checking the latest stats for the Chicago Blackhawks on my phone, then I wash it down with the cup of black coffee Maggie had thoughtfully brought me as well.
Feeling mildly better with food in my stomach and caffeine in my system, I stand and go through the motions of tugging my shirt cuffs down and double-checking that my tie is tight to my collar and lying smooth before buttoning my suit jacket. Then I grab my leather portfolio and a pen and head out.
As I approach the open door of the conference room, I can hear Coop going through the basics of the office.
Though they’re facing away from the entrance, I register a lean, dark-haired man relaxed in his chair and a blond woman with a graceful neck showcased by her tight French twist and rigid posture.
I nearly smirk to myself for nailing her disposition.
Hopefully she’ll learn to relax over time.
I have no interest in working with anyone who has a pole shoved up their ass twenty-four seven.
When I cross the threshold, Coop interrupts himself. “There he is.” All three of them get to their feet as I set my coffee and pad down. “I’d like to introduce you both to the other half of Reeves & Cooper.”
That’s when I hear it. The softest gasp followed by the barest whisper of my name. And instantly every part of my body tenses in response. I lift my gaze and meet the stunning aquamarine eyes I’ve been seeing every night when my lids finally drift closed, and I curse my fucking luck.
Coop was right. My new junior attorney was definitely my type, and her disposition wasn’t the only thing about her I’ve nailed.
I have to focus on drawing even breaths as I take in the way her navy blue pencil skirt hugs her hips and her white blouse stretches taut over her chest, which is mostly hidden by her short matching jacket.
Logically, I know her attire is professional, but my libido might as well be staring at her in a lace teddy.
If I see her as mostly naked, surely every other man sees the same thing, and that has my hands itching to administer black eyes to anyone owning a dick within a fifty-yard radius.
If my partner caught Addison’s reaction, he isn’t letting it show, but that doesn’t mean anything. Cooper is a shrewd observer, so I’m fully expecting an interrogation later. For now, I’m thankful he carries on as though nothing’s happened.
“Roman, this is Martin Ramirez and—”
“Addison Paige.” Her eyes widen in surprise, but there’s no use denying we’re familiar with each other. What would be useful is knowing how to work closely with the only woman I can’t have, when I suspect I’ve developed an addiction for her taste…a taste that’s still with me all these weeks later.