If I Only Knew(16)

I lean back in my chair and look out the window. “What game are you playing?” I ask aloud.

He and Callum aren’t speaking. They barely acknowledge each other, and the tension is thick. Yet when Callum sees me, he’s all smiles. Clearly there’s no love lost between those two.

No matter what’s going on between the brothers, Milo hasn’t wasted any time making friends in the office. He’s flirtatious, smart mouthed, and egotistical. Yet I can’t seem to get Staci to stay at her desk for more than thirty minutes without coming to “check” on him. She said it’s her job to make sure everyone feels comfortable in the office.

I have a feeling I’ll be interviewing for a new receptionist once he leaves.

My email dings and I spin back around, needing to focus on what I can control—my job.

The email, though, is from Nicole with the subject line: Favor?

This can’t be good.

I open it up and sure enough, I was right.



* * *



D-



* * *



I need you to make sure Callum isn’t late tonight. My mother is keeping Colin overnight and I plan to have some really kinky sex. You know, think sex swing, lube, and props. Maybe a good spanking, too.

Hope that made you uncomfortable.



* * *



Love,

N



* * *



For her birthday, I’m buying her three visits to a therapist.

Milo knocks a moment later and then enters. I try to cover the blush that must be on my face because I can feel the heat. Nicole is always good for making me feel mortified.

“You all right?” he asks.

Yup. Just trying to shove the mental image of Nicole and Callum out of my head.

“I’m fine. What’s up?”

He shifts his weight. “You received another call.”

“Yes?”

“A Richard Schilling called, wanted to let you know that,” Milo looks at the paper. “The trial will begin tomorrow.” His brow raises.

“I hoped this wouldn’t happen,” I mutter aloud.

I’m not ready for this. I don’t want to sit in that courtroom, but I don’t think I can stay away either. A part of me needs to hear it all, be involved so I have some answers. I remember Peter telling me that a trial is like a show, to believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see.

This is going to be the ultimate shitshow.

“Have you gotten yourself in a bit of a jam?” Milo asks leaning against the doorjamb.

“What?” I jerk my head back.

“I just love a bit of a bad girl.” He winks. “You were hoping it wouldn’t happen so it must be something good—or bad. Especially since you have to go to trial. Tsk tsk.”

I tilt my head. “I bet you do,” I taunt him back. “I’m a really bad girl. I’m worried I might actually end up completely broken by the end of this.”

Milo moves closer as though I’m giving him some juicy gossip. He sits, puts his head on his chin. “Do tell,” he smirks.

I lean in, playing it up since he has no clue what I’m about to hit him with. I drop my voice real low and keep my face void of emotion. “Do you promise not to judge me?”

“Sweetheart, I would never.”

I let his term of endearment go this time. “A few months ago, something happened.”

“Yes?”

“It was . . .” I look away as though I’m embarrassed.

From the corner of my eye, I catch the grin that spreads across his face. Dumbass thinks he’s got me where he wants me. “Does my brother know?” I nod. “Then it can’t be that bad or he would’ve terminated your employment.”

This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I turn my head back to him. “He couldn’t fire me for this. It wouldn’t be good for Callum if he did.”

His eyes go wide. “Does it involve my brother? Did he break the law as well?”

“No,” I whisper.

“You’re stalling. It must be downright scandalous. Did they use the cuffs on you?”

“I wasn’t involved like that . . .”

Milo scoots forward. “Then out with it, what naughty thing have you done, Danielle?”

I let out a heavy sigh and look to the ceiling. “You have it all wrong,” I tell him.

“Let Milo know your dirty little secret,” he urges.

What a tool.

“Fine,” I sigh. “It’s a trial for the man who killed my husband sixteen months ago.”

Milo’s face falls and I watch the emotions roll through his deep green eyes. “Excuse me?”

I lean back in my chair and continue to swirl the pen, needing some sort of anchor. “Get back to work, Milo.”

“No, you said your husband was killed?”

“Yes, now get back to work.”

“When?” he asks.

“A while ago, out!” I point to the door.

“You were toying with me?” he asks with a mix of awe and indignation.

“I sure was, and you were eating it up. I swear, I’m not going to ask you again,” I warn.

He gets to his feet but doesn’t leave. I have the worst assistant in the world. “You made me think it was you who were on trial!”