I wait for him to recognize me as his eyes move over me in a slow sweep. They linger on my legs for a few seconds, probably because of my patterned hose—it’s how I spice up my business wardrobe. When his eyes finally return to my face, his brow furrows slightly while he shakes my hand. “Daxton Hughes. Nice to meet you.” His eyes drift to the mug on my desk, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. Motherfucker. He doesn’t even remember me.
I pull my hand from his grasp, frustrated by the tingles shooting down my arm into inappropriate places thanks to a freaking handshake. “Why don’t we all have a seat?” I better not sound breathy to anyone but myself.
They settle into the chairs around the table in my office. I wish I could hide the mug, but the image is on both sides.
Dax stretches out his long legs and slips his phone into his pocket, muffling the constant buzzing of messages.
“My assistant, Laura, indicated that you’re interested in setting up a trust for your daughter.” I flip open my laptop, and the theme song to It’s My Life fills the room. The timing couldn’t be worse. My best friend Holly regularly sends me memes and video clips as a joke. Normally it’s not embarrassing because the guy who starred in the show isn’t sitting across from me, with his parents.
I slam my fingers on the keyboard, aiming for the Mute button, but all I succeed in doing is making it louder for a few painfully awkward seconds. “So sorry about that.”
Daxton wears an amused smile. Maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world that he doesn’t seem to remember me. I fold my hands on the table and focus my attention on his parents. The back of my neck is damp and my face is on fire. “The trust for your daughter. How can I be of assistance?”
Mrs. Hughes smiles kindly. Her graying hair is cut into a short, stylish bob. Her makeup is light and carefully applied. She’s not flashy, but she’s dressed nicely. She looks so sweet. It’s too bad she birthed a gorgeous asshole. I hope her daughter is nicer.
“We’d like to secure Emme’s savings, and Daxton wanted to join us.” She pats his hand.
Daxton smiles at his mother. “I thought it might be a good idea to tag along since the trust lawyer at my firm is on leave and they didn’t want to wait.”
“Whitman and Flood is one of the best firms in the city. You’ll be in good hands here,” I say proudly.
Evelyn nods her agreement. “I keep thinking she’s just a baby, but she’ll be thirteen soon enough and then eighteen is around the corner and the next thing you know they’re moving out.” She smiles fondly at her son. “Anyway, we didn’t set up a trust for Daxton when he was Emme’s age, and it probably would’ve been a lot easier on everyone if we had.”
“Daxton was always very responsible with his money, except for his first year of college,” Mr. Hughes says.
“You could hardly blame him for that. Daxton used to star on a TV show when he was Emme’s age.” Her gaze darts to my mug for a second.
Daxton’s cheeks flush a little. “Mom, we’re not really here to ta—”
“I’m sure Miss Flowers knows what it’s like to have braggy parents,” Mr. Hughes breaks in.
I smile but the comment makes my heart twinge. It’s been a long time since someone bragged about my accomplishments, and the man who stole my biggest one is sitting on the other side of the table, and apparently doesn’t remember the way he screwed me. Not literally, thank God.
“Please, call me Kailyn,” I say through a granite smile.
Daxton’s brows pull down and he tips his head to the side, inspecting me.
“Where did you go to law school, Kailyn?” Evelyn asks.
“UCLA.”
“Really? Daxton went to law school there, too! What year did you graduate? It couldn’t have been that long ago, you’re so young.”
I fight with my hands to stay folded on the table rather than allow them to flutter around. “It’s been five years.”
“Oh my goodness! Daxton!” She grabs his arm. “You went to law school at the same time! Did you know each other?”
“We might’ve run into each other once or twice on campus.” I look to Daxton, waiting for him to acknowledge, to remember. Waiting for a sign that he feels some kind of remorse over what he did. While we never hung out, we were always competing with each other. We bantered in class, especially during debates, sometimes to the point where the professor would have to put a stop to it. It felt a little like verbal foreplay at the time. It kept us both entertained, or so I’d thought.
Daxton’s eyebrows shoot up. “Holy shit!”
“Daxton!” His mother slaps his arm.
“Sorry. Wow. Kailyn. I didn’t recognize you.” He rubs his fingers over his bottom lip, eyes moving over my face again in a way that reminds me a lot of how he looked at me in law school. “You, uh…look so different. Good. You look good.”
I give him a tight smile and adjust my glasses, wishing I’d worn contact lenses today. “Yes, well, T-shirts and jeans don’t quite cut it in the business world, as I’m sure you know.”
His eyes drift down. “I liked you in jeans and T-shirts.”
“Did you have classes together? Were you friends?” His mother seems oblivious to the tension flaring between us.
“We had a lot of classes together,” Daxton replies, gaze locking on mine.
Why is it so hot in here all of a sudden? “But we weren’t exactly friends.” I pick up my pen and flip it between my fingers to avoid pulling at the collar of my blouse, which feels too tight.
He tips his head to the side, his expression curious. “We were friendly rivals, though, weren’t we? You kept me on my toes, always two steps ahead of everyone else, me included most of the time. It was hard to compete with beauty and brains.”
I bark out a laugh. At one time I’d almost believed we were friends, but he’d proved me wrong. “Rivals, sure. Friends don’t generally screw each other over by stealing the top spot in the class, do they?”
“Stealing…what?” His brow pulls down. “I worked my ass off for that. You can’t be mad about that after five years.”
I sure as hell can still be mad about it, especially when he’s acting like he earned it fairly. As we stare each other down, I briefly wish I’d pursued criminal law instead of trust law as a career. Then I would have much better knowledge of how to get away with murder.
At the clearing of a throat, I’m suddenly aware that I’m being completely unprofessional, and this juvenile battle is being witnessed by my potential clients, who are also his parents.
“Well, you two are certainly full of fire, aren’t you?” his mother chuckles.
I don’t want to let it go, but if I push this further, I’m at risk of embarrassing myself, and I don’t want to give Daxton the satisfaction of seeing how much he gets to me. Still. But this is the first opportunity I’ve had to confront him in five years, so it takes an infinite amount of grace to stow the anger and fix my face with a fake smile. “Daxton and I were always competing for head of the class. In the end I came in second. Anyway, you’re not here to talk about law school. Let’s discuss Emme’s trust and how you’d like the funds allocated. I’m sure we can set up a great plan that will help her manage her money responsibly as she grows.”