Rascal (Rascals Book 1)(12)
I watched her leave, unable to pull my eyes away from the way her jeans perfectly cupped her amazing heart-shaped ass. It was only after she was gone that I realized exactly how noisy the bar still was. I looked at my watch. It was after ten. Usually, the contractors would work until at least midnight—we paid them well for it—but tonight I was less worried about the bar’s timeline and more concerned about a certain blonde’s ability to sleep.
“OK guys, finish up!” I found myself calling. “We’re taking an early night tonight.”
When the bar was quiet and empty, I poured myself another pint and thought of Alex, only a few floors away—so close and so tempting. It took everything I had not to head upstairs and try to finish the kiss we had started a few days ago. Instead, I sat at the bar and finished my drink.
5
Alex
For whatever reason, I woke up the next morning craving a grilled cheese sandwich. Or maybe I was just craving the person who had made me a grilled cheese sandwich. Emerson had surprised me last night—in more ways than one. Not only for making me dinner, but for not trying to make a move when I was exhausted, crampy, and focused on work. Most of the guys I knew—including the few I had dated—never seemed to pick up on cues like that, subtle or unsubtle. But Emerson seemed to get it.
Unless he just wasn’t interested.
Even though I had told myself over and over again that I didn’t have time to date, that I didn’t have time for someone like Emerson, the idea that he didn’t make a move because he wasn’t interested bummed me out. Which was ridiculous. If anything, I should be grateful that I didn’t have to deal with unwanted advances.
Except, I kind of wanted him to advance on me.
Or maybe I didn’t know what I wanted.
Instead of focusing on that, I turned my attention to the one thing I knew I wanted. A permanent position at Patricks, Richmond & Garrison, the most prestigious law firm in Chicago.
With coffee in hand, I headed towards my first meeting of the day. I’d only be taking notes, but it was important to get facetime with the other associates and partners whenever I could.
I took a seat next to Lucinda and Bryce—my competition for the associate position. The three of us had just sat for the bar a month ago and were waiting for our results. I had studied my ass off and felt good about it, but nothing was certain until the results were posted. Failing that meant automatic disqualification for the associate position.
“You look tired,” Lucinda told me as I pulled out my notebook.
She said it with a smile—she did everything with a smile—but I knew enough about Lucinda to watch my back. She might look like a sweetheart, with her big blue eyes and perfectly coiffed brown bob, but she was just as ambitious as the rest of us. If given the chance, she’d stab me in the back in a second.
The other potential associate, Bryce, wouldn’t. Nope, since he was a guy, he would happily stab me in the front—and get away with it.
Both of them came from prestigious law families—getting in the door because of family connections or beloved professors from the most expensive law schools in the country. I didn’t have the kind of pedigree that they did, I just had my work ethic and refusal to quit.
But I’d bet on those any day.
“I feel great,” I told Lucinda, smiling just as broadly as she did.
Bryce didn’t say anything, just continued to sit there looking mildly constipated as always. It was a look that most employees of Patricks, Richmond & Garrison wore. Our jobs were hard and the firm was a little on the stuffy side, but it was where I needed to be to launch my career in the law. A few years in a prestigious firm like this, and I would have my pick of other options—or maybe go right to the top here. Partner.
“Here they come,” Lucinda muttered as the clients entered.
I had read up on this case over the weekend. The firm was representing the wife of a successful tech company CEO. They were embroiled in a messy divorce in which the wife, Laney, was asking for half of their assets—including the company—while the husband, Trevor, was arguing that he was the one responsible for his company’s success, therefore his soon-to-be ex shouldn’t get a dime.
Looking up from my notebook, I observed the wife as she took a seat on one end of the table. Laney was in her mid-forties, looking polished and professional. But I was also close enough to see that her mascara was smudged and her eyes were red. Clearly, she had been crying.
Even though I knew getting emotionally invested in our cases was always a bad idea, I couldn’t help feeling bad for this woman. She looked devastated, and slightly shell-shocked.
“He left her for his secretary,” Lucinda whispered in my ear.
She always knew all the gossip around clients, but we all went silent as the partners began to speak.
“Our client is asking for a fair share of the assets,” Arthur—the Patricks in Patricks, Richmond & Garrison—started. “A fifty-fifty split after twenty years of marriage is not only reasonable but expected.”
The opposing lawyers shook their heads, almost in unison.
“Illinois isn’t a community property state,” one of them smirked. “Our client built his company from the ground up. By himself. Your client’s contributions were to spend our client’s money. If anything, she should be repaying him.”