“Stop looking like I just told you Reed has a secret wife. I’m not going to sell my body, Victoria.” I google Roarke Baldwin, bastard-at-law and scribble his phone number down, sliding the note to Victoria. “Here. Call over and say I need to have a word with the snake.”
“I don’t like this. I’m just saying,” she says before rising from her chair.
There’s no sense responding because there’s nothing else to say.
Through the frosted glass, I watch her movements. She picks up the phone and I hear the murmur of her voice as she talks, but she hangs up before sending a call through to me.
He’s probably in court screwing someone else over.
My throat contracts when she rises from her desk. I can’t remember the last time I was nervous and it only makes my resentment for Mr. Baldwin grow.
She enters my office and places a colored sticky note on my desk. “He told his assistant you’re to use his cell phone only. The office phone is for clients and you’re not a client.”
I crinkle the piece of paper, balling it in my fist.
“What a son of a bitch!” I throw the coral piece of paper across the room.
“I don’t like this. I think we should reschedule the gala.”
I slide my chair out, press my palms on the edge of my desk and push up, heading over to retrieve the note I just flung. “No. Mr. Baldwin wants to play, I can fucking play. The most arrogant predators always underestimate their prey. Roarke Baldwin is the biggest pompous ass I’ve ever met, and I guarantee he underestimates every woman he comes into contact with, including me.”
“You’re kind of scary right now,” Victoria says, backing away from the desk. “Can I leave the door open a sliver so I can eavesdrop?” She grins.
I laugh and shoo her out of the office with my hand. Chelsea must arrive because a moment later I spot two shadows with their ears pressed against my door.
Chapter Five
I press the numbers on my phone with shaky fingers, bringing the receiver up to my ear and release a deep breath.
He picks up after one ring. “I thought we were friends? Having your assistant call my assistant. Tsk. Tsk, Ms. Crowley.”
Aggravation fuses together every cell in my body until I become an impenetrable wall.
“First, we are not friends. Second, I would prefer to talk to you via our office phones.”
There’s a brief second of silence where he’s probably realizing I called him through my office line.
“Ahh… so now you have my number and I don’t have yours? That seems terribly unfair.”
“I didn’t realize you cared about fairness?” I lean back in my chair and cross my legs.
“You don’t know that much about me. It’s not like you know me intimately.” He lowers his voice on the last word and drags it out.
I roll my eyes, happy we’re not face-to-face so he can’t see the flush in my cheeks.
“You may have witnessed how I own the courtroom, but you know nothing about my private life. For instance, you don’t know if I like thrillers or comedies. Whether I prefer sorbet to ice cream or if I wear boxers or briefs.”
“I don’t need to know those things,” I say with frustration, shutting my eyes to rid the vision from my head of him in tight black boxer briefs—since that’s my preference.
“You want to know though.” A sexual innuendo pours out of his mouth and hits its mark between my thighs.
“There you go making assumptions about my wants.” I pick up my pen, shuffling through paperwork. Anything to distract me from this ache.
“I not only know what you want, I know what you need, Ms. Crowley.”
I smack my hand down on my desk. “Okay Rico Suave, let’s talk about this venue you have access to and keep the discussion of undergarments for another time.”
A beeping sound interrupts us.
“Hold all my calls please, Kristen.” Then nothing for a moment. “Sorry about that but you know how busy I am.”
“Yes, I’m sure destroying people’s lives takes a lot of time. So let’s stop the sexual innuendos and get down to business.”
“Let’s meet tonight. You frequent Torrio’s. I frequent Torrio’s. Let’s do something crazy and have a drink together.”
“I don’t need a drink at Torrio’s, Mr. Baldwin, I need a venue to house my gala. Now tell me your terms and I want the details of this venue you insist you can secure. I refuse to meet you until you supply me with that information.” I uncross my legs and tap my foot on the floor under me.
“So demanding. I like it.” I can hear him shuffling papers in the background. “I’ll have my assistant message your assistant with all the details of the venue. I’m sure it will be to your liking. Then we’ll meet tonight at Torrio’s. Seven sharp. Consider it our own personal happy hour.”
“I’m not committing to anything until I see the venue.”
“Then I’ll see you at seven.” The phone clicks and I stare at the receiver in my hand.
“Prick,” I murmur.
A knock sounds on my door.
“Just come in.”
The two women practically fall through the door.
“Nice to know there’s no such thing as privacy in this office,” I say, tossing my pen down on my desk.
“We only heard bits and pieces.” Victoria walks in with a muffin in her hand.
“Give us some credit. At least we didn’t hide in my office and try to connect to the line.”
Chelsea seems much happier today as she sits down in the chair. No red eyes or blotchy skin, her smile wide and bright.
“You’re happy today,” I remark.
Her smile grows wider.
“Oh let me guess, Dean made use of those uncontrollable hormones last night,” I say with a chuckle.
She shrugs, her eyes flitting up behind her eyelids.
“Good for you.”
“Wait until you’re five months along. That smile might as well be sewn on your lips.” Victoria waggles her eyebrows and places the muffin on my desk.
“Tell the bakery to stop sending samples. My God, do they want my ass to be the size of Lake Michigan?” I push it away, my attitude having a lot to do with the bastard I just hung up with.
“I’ll tell them.” Victoria’s abrupt removal of the muffin says I’m being a bitch. I reach out for the delicious looking treat. “It’s fine really. Sorry. That man just makes me crazy.”
“Let me take it back. I think they think since we’re an office of women we want to give all the items a go.”
Chelsea throws her hands in the air. “Don’t go telling them to stop. Hello!” She points to her stomach. “I can eat whatever I want for the next seven months with zero guilt.”
Victoria hands the muffin to Chelsea who happily takes a big bite, crumbs falling to her lap.
“So, we’re all going to Torrio’s tonight?” Chelsea asks with a mouthful of muffin.
“No. I am. Mr. Baldwin’s assistant will be sending you the information on the venue, Vic. Let me know as soon as you get it.”
“You’re going to have a drink with him?” Chelsea asks, her gaze meeting Victoria’s. “Under those dim lights that promise roaming hands and sneaking kisses?”