Chapter 3
Stephan
I don’t know why I’m nervous. I’ve worked with dozens of associates over my twenty years in law, and none of them have ever set me on edge like Katie. To be honest, I never notice most of them. They’re just nameless, faceless résumés that come and go. But not Katie– she’s different.
Fuck. Get yourself together, Stephan. You are a partner at the premier law firm in Chicago and perhaps one of the top in the country —you’re better than this.
I splash cold water on my face, hoping it will wake me from this trance. Even the escort I hired couldn’t exorcise these demons.
Stepping into the cold shower, I let the water wash over me, but the buzz in my veins remains. I am already hard, and the marble is cold and solid against my back. I wrap a fist around my thick, throbbing cock. There is only one way to burn off this nervous energy.
A vision forms when I shut my eyes—Katie kneels on the cold tile, her emerald eyes lock on mine, wide and waiting for the command. I run my thumb along her pouty bottom lip, a slow, deliberate trace, before gently pressing it past her teeth and into her warm, waiting mouth.
Her imagined compliance fuels me. I pump my fist around my bulging cock, my breath catching in the sudden, sharp pace.
I pull my thumb out, slick with her saliva, and shove my cock in its place. She doesn't hesitate; her lips seal around the heat. She swallows me, taking the entire heavy length into her throat. Her green eyes never leave mine.
Cinching my fist in her copper hair, I guide her rhythm. Slow at first— I don’t want her to take too much and gag. I tell myself that with a woman like Katie, you have to start gently and work your way up to something more intense.
This isn't just lust; it's the shattering of her pristine image that makes me ache. I want her in a way I’ve never wanted another woman. I want to be the one who strips away every last bit of that Catholic discipline, who rewrites her commandments in sweat and submission.
I squeeze my eyes shut, holding the fantasy tight, refusing to let her image shatter with the release. Pressing myself against the marble, I tense as the wave of my climax hits. I let myself go—a deep, shuddering surrender—and my cum spurts out, thick and hot, washing instantly down the drain.
Ragged breaths rip through my chest. The trembling stops, replaced by a cold, clear focus. My nerves are settled. I’ve contained the threat for now, but my head is still a mess. Desire has never worked cleanly for me.
I turn off the shower. The memory of her mouth dissolves into the steady hiss of water—white noise, nothing more. Katie O’Shea is an associate; I’m a senior partner. That is the beginning and end of it.
This isn’t Katie. This is what I want her to be.
I dress in a charcoal wool suit, a crisp white shirt, and a light blue silk tie. The fabric slides cool against my skin, smooth as water. I’m not in court today, so something slightly less formal will do. Still, every line sits exactly where it should. There’s comfort in precision.
By seven, I’m in the back of the town car headed for the office.
Outside, the city glints awake—steel and glass catching the early light.
Today, we start a new case, the kind that makes headlines and shifts markets, but it doesn’t faze me.
I am confident in my and my team’s abilities.
This is just another case… another paycheck.
By the time the car glides to a stop outside the tower, the city is fully awake. Suits move in herds along the sidewalk, caffeine and ambition in motion.
“Morning, Mr. Marek,” the doorman says.
I nod, step out, and let the weight of the building settle around me. Forty floors of glass and order—everything exactly where it belongs.
The elevator hums upward, mirrors reflecting a man who looks as calm as ever. Inside, my pulse is another story.
Annie greets me the second I step into the office, a steaming coffee already in my hand. “Good morning, sir. Damien’s in early. Cassian just called—he’ll be here in ten.”
“Thank you,” I say, taking the mug. “Have HR finalize the onboarding for the new associate. I want her in orientation by nine.”
“Yes, sir.”
I retreat into my office and close the door. The air smells faintly of leather and ink. Then, I pull the file for the new case, and force my mind to focus.
Numbers. Deadlines. Strategy.
But beneath it all, an unwanted thought hums like an undercurrent: She’ll be here soon.
Before I can start my computer, there’s a knock at the door.
Damien West fills the doorway—senior partner, best friend, and perpetual thorn in my side. Even at nearly forty, he still has that polished, all-American look—ashen-blonde hair, blue eyes, the kind of smile that belongs in a Ralph Lauren ad. He can have any woman in this city, and he knows it.
“Big day today,” Damien says, dropping into one of the leather chairs across from me.
I nod, though my mind drifts elsewhere—to a new associate with copper hair and too-honest eyes.
Taking a sip of coffee, I lean back in my chair, like today is any other day. “We’ve handled cases like this before and won. I don’t see this one being any different.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Maybe. But people get fired up over cancer patients, Stephan. This one’s going to be all over the news.”
I exhale slowly. “The news isn’t my concern. Our job is to make a jury hesitate—to remind them that doubt is reason enough.”
Damien opens his mouth to reply, but a sharp knock interrupts him. The door swings open before I can answer.
Cassian Roth steps in, punctual to the second.
He’s the only man I know who wears a three-piece suit like armor.
His hair is the only thing he can’t quite beat into submission—dark, thick, and fighting the gel to wave at the forehead.
The amber in his eyes, sharp and predatory enough to keep the rest of us in line.
“Morning,” he says, voice low, even. “Annie said you two were already plotting the day’s damage.”
Damien grins. “Just the usual—jury manipulation and moral decay.”
Cassian takes the other chair without waiting to be asked, setting a thin folder on the desk. “Halcyon’s PR team released a statement. They’re pushing the ‘innovation over intention’ angle again.”
“Good,” I say. “It’ll make them sound detached. Juries like villains who look too proud to sweat.”
Cassian’s mouth twitches—the closest he ever comes to a smile. “Then we’re on schedule.”
Damien glances between us, eyes narrowing. “You two really do enjoy this part, don’t you?”
I don’t answer. He already knows the truth. For all our talk about justice, we live for the strategy.
The conversation turns to logistics—court filings, expert witnesses, schedules—but I can feel the clock ticking toward nine.
She’ll be walking through those doors any minute now.
“Stephan?” Damien waves a hand in front of my face. “You there?”
I blink, the thread of thought snapping. Get it together. “Yes,” I say, the word coming out a little too crisp.
At 8:15, I notice something out of the corner of my eye. Through the glass wall of my office, I see Annie at reception, all smiles and efficiency. She’s shaking hands with someone—then I realize who.
Katie O’Shea.
She’s early. Of course she is.
Annie gestures toward the bullpen and leads her to a desk directly across from my office. From here, every detail is visible. A front row seat to my undoing if I’m not careful.
She’s dressed carefully, but not expensively—a navy sheath dress that’s one season behind, sensible heels, a leather bag that’s real but overused. I’d bet she spent a week’s pay making herself look like she belonged here. The effort shows, and somehow that makes her stand out even more.
She sets her bag down, smooths a hand over her hair, and pulls a laptop from its case. Every movement is neat, deliberate, and disciplined. I expected the soft nun, but the woman sitting at the desk across from me is focused, poised, and perhaps stronger and bolder than I had initially anticipated.
“Stephan?” Damien’s voice cuts through my focus. “You planning to start the day, or just supervise the new hire from afar?”
I blink and turn back to him. “She’s early,” I say, as if that explains everything.
He laughs softly. “You noticed.”
Cassian doesn’t even look up from the file he’s reviewing. “He noticed the minute she walked through the door.”
Damien grins over his coffee cup. “Try not to intimidate the poor woman before she’s even logged into her email.”
I ignore them both, but the heat creeping up the back of my neck betrays me.
Cassian glances at his watch. “She on the Halcyon team?”
Damien answers before I can. “Of course she is. She could be the worst lawyer in the city, and I’d still put her on the case just to watch Stephan sweat.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter, though we all know he’s right. The thought crawls under my skin, hot and electric.
Cassian stands, straightening his cuff links.“Well then, I’ll let my assistant Marcy know. I expect to see everyone in the big conference room at nine thirty.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “That should give you enough time to get your shit together, Marek.”
“Ha-ha,” I mutter. “Like I’m not the biggest shark in the room.”
Cassian’s mouth lifts, a flicker of amusement. “Keep telling yourself that.”
A devilish smirk tugs at the corners of Damien’s mouth as he follows Cassian out. “See you at nine.”
The door clicks shut behind them, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding—half exasperation, half relief. The office is quiet again, just the faint hum of the city beyond the glass.
I roll my shoulders, loosen my tie a fraction—time to get my head back where it belongs.
Nine-thirty comes sooner than I’d like. Cassian, Damien, and I stand at the head of the conference room, facing a sea of associates in dark suits and eager smiles. The low murmur quiets the moment we walk in—respect, or fear, or both.
But my eyes find only one face. I still my hands, force my gaze forward, and hate myself for it.
Katie O’Shea stands in the back, clutching her padfolio like a lifeline. She’s perfectly still, watching everything, and for a second, the rest of the room blurs around her.
I hate that she has this power over me already, and we haven’t even started working together. This isn’t me. Women don’t make me flustered like this. I focus on the other wide-eyed associates staring back at me—anything to distract myself from her.
The low murmur fades the instant Cassian opens the file in front of him.
“The Halcyon Pharmaceuticals case,” he begins, voice even, carrying easily across the room. “Product liability. One plaintiff, twenty-two co-defendants. A class action waiting to happen if we don’t shut it down fast.”
He flips a page. “The allegation: that Halcyon’s chemotherapy drug caused secondary cancers and fatalities in patients. The company denies causation. We will make sure the evidence does too.”
The room is silent, every associate locked in.
Damien adds, “We’re not here to debate ethics. We’re here to win. If that bothers anyone, there’s the door.”
A few nervous glances, no movement.
Cassian’s voice fades as I watch Katie, shoulders curved over her legal pad, chasing every word like it might save her.
Her dedication is a cruel contrast to the thought consuming me. My eyes track the severe line of her jaw down to her rose-colored lips—the same lips I envisioned wrapped around my hard cock earlier. The memory is a phantom pressure deep in my groin.
Cassian goes on to outline timelines, discovery strategy, and jury profiles. I hear him, but only in fragments over the sound of my pulse thundering in my ears.
Cassian closes the file in front of him. “We’ll divide the associates into three teams. West, Marek, and I will each take a group. The case moves fast, and I don’t want to repeat myself. You’ll all have access to the shared drive by noon.”
He glances at me. “Marek, you’ll oversee discovery. West will handle client relations and public strategy. I’ll take trial prep.”
Damien nods, easy grin in place. “And for anyone who hasn’t figured it out yet, that means you’ll be putting in more hours than you thought existed. Welcome to the big leagues.”
A few strained laughs ripple through the room.
Cassian consults his notes. “Team assignments are posted outside. Check your names and report to your supervising partner after lunch.” He shuts the folder with a decisive click and looks at me. “Anything to add?”
I shake my head. “Just this—if you’re on my team, expect to work harder than you ever have. Discovery wins or loses a case before trial. We don’t make mistakes.”
The room shifts, chairs scraping, murmured conversation filling the air. Through the movement, I find Katie. She’s already at the list, scanning the names. Her finger stops halfway down. A faint smile, then her eyes flick up—straight to me.
The moment hangs there.
Damien appears at my shoulder, smirking. “Guess who’s on your team?”
I don’t bother pretending to be surprised.
Cassian’s already at the door. “Try not to make a spectacle of yourself.”
The door shuts behind them, the echo sharp against the glass.
I turn back to the list. My name sits at the top, hers just below it—clean, precise, holding the inevitability of our futures. Discovery lives and dies on credibility. My chest tightens, making me uneasy. One questionable call, one appearance of favoritism, and opposing counsel would tear us apart.
For the first time in a long time, I can’t decide if I’ve just won or made the biggest mistake of my career.