Present
Something about you feels familiar.
The sentence had undone me, and here I was, twenty minutes later, sitting on the wooden bench in the wet sauna, waiting for Arya.
It didn’t help that she looked good enough to eat in her red bikini. Or that I’d been hitting the Brewtherhood almost every night, hoping she’d defy me by showing up. Picking up where we’d left things off last time.
I rested my head against the wall, beads of sweat slithering down my torso into the white towel wrapped around my waist. I was hard. I was always hard when Arya Roth was around. And for some reason, she always seemed to be around. I couldn’t get rid of her, now that she’d reentered my sphere.
I detested that she’d come to the pretrial hearing. Not only because it had made me deal with a constant semi while exchanging golf tips with Judge Lopez, but also because seeing her miserable didn’t have the desired effect on me. As much as I hated her—and I truly did—her father was my main fish to fry.
Not to mention Claire was getting antsy. I hadn’t invited her over since the hearing had begun, and it didn’t help that she’d noticed I couldn’t take my eyes off Arya whenever we were in the same room. I had to remind myself that Claire knew it had never been serious. That I’d stressed it to her time and time again.
The door of the sauna whined open and shut. My eyes remained closed. I waited for her to say something. She was the one who’d jumped through hoops to find me, after all.
“Christian.” Her voice was raspy, full of warmth.
“Sit down,” I ordered.
“Not before you look at me.”
“Sit. Down,” I enunciated.
“Look at me first.”
“Make it worth my while.” A smile tugged at my lips. That was when I heard it. The soft whoosh of her towel as it hit the wet floor. Was this crazy woman completely naked? Only one way to find out.
I popped my eyes open. Arya stood in front of me, like every single time I’d imagined her in my fantasies. Her breasts were spectacular. Her nipples small and pink, her hips silky and round. Her body was an hourglass, dripping with sweat. Her skin smooth and velvety, begging to be touched.
She’s not worth the partnership, not to mention nailing her father. She is doing this to ruin you. This one-trick pony seduces for destruction.
She took a few steps toward me. We were alone, but someone could walk in any minute. The wet sauna was unisex. I could tell she was going to mount and straddle me if I didn’t put a stop to it. As much as it pained me—especially one part of me—to reject her, I couldn’t cave in to her advances.
She leaned toward me, bracing one of her arms behind my shoulder, her green eyes meeting mine. She put her other hand on my pecs. They flexed instinctively. My cock threatened to play peekaboo with the towel. Suddenly, we were back to being fourteen.
I laced my fingers around her wrist, pushing her hand away. “I’ll pass.”
“Why?”
“Never show your neck to someone who wants to chop your head off.”
“It is a pretty neck, though.” Arya’s eyes twinkled. I wanted to laugh. She didn’t move away. “Is it because of Claire?”
Claire. Her name on Arya’s lips felt strange. Wrong. In my thirty-two years, there’d never been another woman who held a candle to Arya’s pull, capabilities, and demolition.
“Jealous?” I swiped my tongue along my lower lip.
“Maybe.” She slid her hands back over my shoulders.
My heart thudded faster. I hadn’t been expecting that answer. “Don’t be.”
“Are you saying you’re not sleeping with your associate?” she asked, and I couldn’t lie, although it was tempting.
I shook my head. “I’m saying she doesn’t matter.”
There was always the chance Arya was fishing to find some leverage against me, and screwing my fellow associate was definitely not a great look.
“What’s the problem, then? The chemistry is there.” Her tone was businesslike, almost terse.
“Yes.” I flashed my teeth, cool and collected. “But the willingness to fuck up my case isn’t. If I touch you, I lose, and you and I both know it. Now wrap a towel around yourself and park your ass all the way across the bench. We need to talk.”
She retreated, stepping back and picking up her towel. She wrapped it around herself and walked toward the farthest end of the wraparound bench, sitting in front of me, calm and collected, like she hadn’t been rejected minutes ago.
“You should clean your hands of him.” I ran a hand over my hair, which was slick with sweat.
“No,” she said simply.
“He is guilty.”
“You would say that; you are Amanda Gispen’s lawyer.”
“I’m saying that because I have eyes and ears. I looked through your side’s discovery responses. This will cause a lot of destruction to your father. Just because shit is about to hit the fan doesn’t mean you have to get dirty.”
“Christian,” Arya said, almost chidingly. Another memory from our thirteen-year-old selves. She’d always been bossy. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you advice.”
“Are you going to charge me five hundred bucks at the end of this hour?”
“You mean two grand. And the answer is no. This advice I am giving you for free, though you should consider it priceless. Your father’s attorneys—are they a part of his in-house litigation team?”
I had no idea what I was doing or why the hell I was doing it. I just knew I had to throw her a bone. I wanted to win, but not by default. Conrad Roth’s case looked weak right now. A walk in the park.
“No.” Arya shook her head. “They’re outside counsel. He’s worked with them before. They come highly recommended by his team.”
“His team ain’t worth a dime, and his general counsel should be fired. Any rookie would tell you that when dealing with any gender-related lawsuit, the jurors would respond more sympathetically to a female litigator. Especially someone young.”
“Like Claire,” Arya pointed out.
“Like Claire. But that’s beside the point.”
“Are you saying he needs to hire a female lawyer?” Her green eyes sparked with curiosity, and there it was, the Arya I knew and was obsessed with. Apparently she was still there, under the thick layers of designer clothes and ballbusting moves and bullshit.
“Correct.”
“That’s sexist.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Her eyes tapered. “No part of you wants my father to win this case.”
Smiling at her like she was a foolish child, I deliberately mansplained. “I’ll be buttoning up this puppy if you bring in Jesus Christ himself to represent your father. It’d be nice to break a little sweat while I do. I’m giving you a head start.”
Arya’s eyes glided over my chest. I was glad I couldn’t do the same to her, now that she’d wrapped herself back up. My IQ had dropped by sixty-nine points when she was naked.
“You look pretty sweaty to me,” she remarked.
“In court.”
She extended her bronze legs, wiggling her toes. I couldn’t help it. I sneaked a look. First at her shapely calves, then at those toes she used to entwine with mine when we were kids, reading under the desk at her library.
“So tell me, Christian, how do I know you?”
We were on a first-name basis now. That wasn’t good. Still, it felt weird to refer to Arya as Ms. Roth.
I flexed my muscles. “You seem like a smart cookie. Figure it out.”
You’re playing with fire, I could hear Arsène warning in my head.
That may be, I answered. How could I not, when the flame is so beautiful?
The next day, I called Claire into my office.
“Miss Lesavoy, please take a seat.”
Claire always looked good, but she seemed to be putting in extra effort in recent days. Perhaps to remind me she had more to offer than her sharp mind.
She sat in front of me, smiling breezily. “Hey, stranger. Tried to call you last night. Your voice mail has been working extra hours.”
I’d been busy jerking off to mental pictures of Arya. But I supposed she could do without this piece of information.
“Sorry.” I smoothed my tie over my dress shirt. “I was busy. Listen, Claire, I’m going to cut straight to the chase. You are gorgeous, intelligent, smart as a whip, and completely out of my league. I’m a washed-out, jaded asshole who cannot say no when a good thing lands in his lap, and in doing so I’m slowing you down. So this is me doing you a favor and calling things off before you begin to resent me and working together becomes tasking.”
I thought it was a nice little speech. Especially considering none of these things were lies. She was too good to me. I was jaded. And things were becoming more complicated, especially now that we were handling the Roth case.
Claire scowled, not bothering to appear unwounded. I knew I should adore that about her, but I couldn’t help but miss Arya’s mind games. Her arrogant pride. Her obstinacy.
“Don’t you think it’s on me to decide whether you’re good enough or not?” Claire asked.
“No,” I said softly. “I fake quality quite well.”
“I think you’re selling yourself short.” Claire leaned across the desk, capturing my hand in hers. “I like you very much, Christian.”
“You have no reason to.”
“Even more so, because you don’t get how amazing you are.”
I gave her an it’s-not-going-to-work look.
“Is it Ms. Roth?” She dropped my hand.
“Don’t, Claire.”
“It is, then.” She stood up but didn’t leave. Waiting for a blanket denial. For me to change my mind.
I masked my annoyance with concern. “You deserve better.”
“I obviously do.” She smiled humorlessly but didn’t make a move toward the door. She was waiting for something else. Something I was incapable of giving her. Humanity. Remorse. Sympathy. I wanted to kill Arya and Conrad just then. For robbing me of all the things I could have given others.
“I trust this matter is settled and behind us,” I said.
And that was when I saw it. The realization sinking in. The way her eyes turned off told me everything I needed to know. She got it.
“Yes. Everything is perfectly clear. Will that be all, Mr. Miller?” Claire stuck her nose up in the air.
“Yes, Miss Lesavoy.”
It was the last time Claire spoke to me that day.
