“Violet.” He looks right at me. “Emily.” He notices her. His voice lowers as he glances my way. “I need you to come to the Red Oak conference room.” His eyes flit to her and then back. “Just you, Vi.”
My heart stops. The mystery guest must be here.
David steps back out into the hallway, closing the door. I look directly at Em, biting my lower lip as she stands. She reaches the door before I do and when I follow right behind her, she throws it open, allowing me to stroll out, my chin high, my black pencil skirt and baby blue shirt flapping in the breeze I’ve created as I storm down the hallway, ready for anything.
Ready for anything but the man sitting down in the first seat in the conference room. Right in front of me.
I turn the corner and nearly trample into him. He sits with his stance wide, his large muscular body taking up half the room as he glances up and meets my gaze with his.
Cocoa-colored eyes stare back at me from the middle of a handsome face.
“Hello… Keats,” he says. He stands, and I can barely breathe. I lose what’s left of my already-choked voice, barely having the energy to cough. I stare up at him.
“What—What are you doing here?”
“Well, a minute ago,” the brown-eyed man comments, “I was sitting in my seat and now I’m standing here, talking to you.” His stormy eyes smile. “Would you like a seat?”
Seat? There are seats?
I can’t take my eyes off him, but I nod, wordlessly, allowing him to escort me into nearest office chair, my body brushing his as I move to sit down. Sparks shoot from every contact point, and I have to fight to keep my skin from shuddering. Not from the cold, but the heat—the pure fire that is this man’s broad chest.
It sweeps against mine briefly, but it is like a flame, kindling everywhere at the same time. I slide inside the softened seat, swallowing hard. I sweep an errant lock of hair behind my ear before speaking.
“Where’s David?” It almost feels silly asking. He smirks.
“He’ll be back. He just took a call.”
“Oh.”
“A call from a client.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“How are you?” he asks.
I wet my suddenly dry lips. “I’m fine.”
“You know,” he comments casually, “I went to the Rainbow Room.” He sucks his teeth briefly. “Not really my taste…but I can show you what is.” He shrugs. “Sometime.”
Just then, David turns the corner. He clears his throat as he waltzes into the room.
“Heath.” He throws a glance at the well-built man. “Oh, I see you’ve already met Violet.”
The small statement makes the man I know as Heath Sparrow smile. He looks my way.
“Yes.” His silken voice deepens. “Yes, I have.”
My heart is now a certified snare drum. It beats with a quick staccato rhythm and I cross my legs, hoping to calm the band currently playing beneath my breath. I can’t believe my own eyes and ears.
Heath Sparrow is the new Managing Partner? The man we’ve been expecting? A man I’ve insulted, snapped at…is now my boss? My eyes search the room.
“Is it just us?” I ask.
David sits. “No, Violet.” He looks at Heath. “Actually I’ve invited our other junior and senior partners on staff to meet with us. As you already know, our main decision-maker Fitzgerald Sparrow has been involved in a quite serious car accident, but he’s always entrusted me to make the best decisions for the firm…” He hesitates. “And I need my biggest team players to hold down the fort while speculation flies about the Chris Jackson case.” He motions to the man on his right. “And for Heath’s handling of it.”
Heath doesn’t smile. “Thank you, David.”
David’s eyes are cold. “You’re welcome.”
Another pair of footsteps join us. Soon, Bitchy Partner Number One enters the well-lit room, a smug smirk on her face. Joined by Asshole Partner Number Two, followed by Sarah Hardy, our head of Marketing.
They take the seats directly in Heath’s stoic line of sight, and before I can say a word, they are clamoring all over themselves to be the first to introduce his or her own royal highness, practically salivating at the chance to kiss Heath Sparrow’s notoriously well-formed ass.
Not that I’ve been looking that hard at his ass…
Bitchy Partner, of course, begins before anyone else.
She waves towards the front of the room. Like a kid introducing herself to the clerk at a candy store.
“Hi, I’m Kathryn. Kathryn Sandoval.”
Heath smiles. “Hello, Kathryn. Kathryn Sandoval.” Next to go is Seth and then Sarah.
Me? I’m sitting in the seat nearest Heath, trying not to pee in my pencil skirt.
My knees practically knock.
I’m almost close enough to reach out and touch Heath, and if I did… I’d remember what it was like to feel him two days ago. When he wrapped those thick fingers around my elbow. When his strong hands clasped over my skin, the heat of his large body running red-hot.
I squirm in my seat, and David claps his hands.
“Alright, everything good now? Now that introductions are over, let’s get to the nitty-gritty. With Fitzgerald’s longtime, uh, friendship with Chris Jackson and Jackson’s connections to this firm, there will be speculation. Rumors about our involvement in his new legal direction. Court appearances begin next week. Our calendar is going to be jam-packed—a tight one. We’ll be the center of the press for the next week. Kathryn, Seth…” His eyes search for them. “I’ll need you two on both, respectively. I want us to be firm. And Sarah, you’ll put the spin on this. And Violet…”
His eyes shoot to me. “You’ll help Heath learn the ropes, show him what this firm can do. Show him what working for the best law firm in Manhattan is like. Make him as much a part of this as possible.”
Heath sighs. “Way to make me feel at home, huh?” He looks at David. “Just a few days back in New York, and I’m already being dictated to.”
David stares at him, his blue irises blanking. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
The bigger man leans back in his chair. “Of course you didn’t, David. But then again you’re not the big boss at this firm…are you?” He stands. “So, here’s how it’s going to go.” He straightens to his feet. “We’re not going to take interviews. Not going to give any morsels to the gossip rags or even the press. I’ll pick a person to handle all communication with the media. Someone very…” He shrugs, lifting his large shoulders. “Welcome-Wagon-y.”
He stands and grins, sweeping a hand over his thick, walnut-hued hair. The move tousles the carefully coiffed strands, and somehow with the mussed locks brushed aside, he looks even more handsome, his large hands grazing his strong jaw, his perfect fingers ruffling the dark hair of his shortened sideburns.
He turns and walks away. But when he reaches the door, he points at me. “And I choose Violet Keats to be that person.”
He walks the rest of the way out and we all watch him, our mouths hanging open, my own hanging just a little lower than everyone else’s as I realize that my tiny plan to help the firm start a civil case against the most corrupt businessman in New York just put the biggest law job I’ve ever had on the line.