The Devil You Know (The Devils #3)(29)

I make a point of facing Fields’ position at the table’s head, but when Ben enters the room, the right side of my body tingles, as if his gaze is a physical thing. I turn and my eyes lock with his.

They always lock with his, though, don’t they? Every time I’ve ever sat at this table with him, every time for two freaking years, Ben’s been looking at me whenever I turned, and I’ve been looking right back. Every single time there’s been this same clench of want in my stomach, this same half second in which it’s impossible to look away.

I think of the hunger in his face as he watched mine last night, the strain. Him saying, “I’ve wanted to watch you come for so fucking long.” I swallow hard and turn my chair away from him, facing the front of the room, where Fields has already begun to drone on.

He talks about billables and the retreat, and then he asks us to each to give him a quick status on our clients.

When he gets to my nemesis, Ben glances at me before he speaks. “The Lawson suit against Fiducia is coming along. We’ve found plenty in the personnel files. Now we’re looking at expense reports.” He’s just summed up my work, and the only substantial thing I had to report. “We’re ready for the class-action in Charlotte, and I’m meeting with Brewer Campbell later. They’re sending a lot of work our way, so it’s going to be all-hands-on-deck soon.”

The point of my pencil snaps. Brewer Campbell is the client he stole from me, and now he’s bragging about it. And he didn’t say a thing about the cases he’s assigned to boring Craig, which means I’m the only one at the meeting left with nothing to report.

“Gemma?” Fields asks. “Anything?”

I grind my teeth. Having to follow up Ben’s coup with absolutely nothing fills me with loathing for him all over again. “I’ve been pretty buried with the Lawson case,” I tell him, sounding like a goddamned intern. “And Roberts was supposed to go to mediation but they postponed.”

Have you brought more work to the firm, Gemma? No.

Have you spearheaded something on your own? No.

Did you just let the worst person here fuck you on his desk? Yes. Yes, I did.

I wouldn’t make me partner either.

I march out of the meeting as fast as I can and head straight for the elevator with Ben at my heels.

My finger stabs at the button to go downstairs. “Are you following me?”

“Are you running out of here early because you’re scared of my devastating sexual appeal?”

I roll my eyes. “You’ve now fucked me twice. Once last night and once at today’s meeting. That seems like enough.”

His nostrils flare. “Lawson’s the biggest case either of us have. Of course, I was going to discuss it. You’d have done the same thing.”

He’s right. If I’d gone first, I’d have discussed Lawson, as if I’d done all the work on my own too. I’d have delighted in it.

I step into the elevator and he follows. I walk clear to the other side and hold my bag to my chest, as if to ward him off.

He glances over at me and his nostrils flare once more. “You’re impossible.”

I laugh. “Oh, is this the part where you act like a dick and make it out to be my fault? We’ve managed to move through all the stages of a relationship without actually having one. Impressive.”

His jaw is locked tight. “I made a mistake. I admitted it. I’ve apologized until I’m blue in the face. But you are hell bent on seeing the worst in me no matter what.”

The elevator doors open, and I walk out, grateful to escape his clean, testosterone-scented air. “No, because I don’t see anything in you at all,” I reply. “Go play your games with someone else. Or better yet, don’t. Grow the fuck up and stop treating women like pawns.”





19





For the next week, Ben and I avoid each other like the plague. We converse only via email, which is absent even the barest hints of cordiality. No thanks, no let me know if you need anything, no regards in the signature line.

To: Ben Tate

From: Gemma Charles

We need to file the motion by Wednesday.



* * *



To: Gemma Charles From: Ben Tate

Send to me for review before submission.



* * *



To: Ben Tate From: Gemma Charles

Motion attached.



* * *



To: Gemma Charles From: Ben Tate

Send it.



* * *



I fly into a silent rage at each of those emails, at the way he’s treating me, as if I need his fucking supervision. I’m the only one of us who’s ever even handled a gender discrimination suit. Our whole strategy was my idea.

But underneath it all, I just feel lost. I was fueled by viciousness and vengeance before, yes, but also hope: hope that my life could eventually be something that makes me happy. Without that, it all feels wrong. When I listen to a client rant about making her husband pay, when I sneak out of the office pretending to go to lunch so I can coach another one of Victoria’s friends before she goes into court, when I walk into my empty apartment at night…I sense that things have gone drastically off-course and I’m not sure they can be set right.