Reasonable Doubt(23)

“You need to get back to work.” I tugged at the ballet slipper charm around her neck. “You still owe me that Brownstein report, demotion or not.”

“You told me it wasn’t a demotion.”

“I took a page out of your book and lied.” I rolled my eyes and stepped back. “Get back to work.”

“Fine, Mr. Hamilton.” She smiled and headed for the door.

“And when you come back,” I added, “just leave my afternoon coffee on that bookshelf and walk out. Don’t come anywhere near my desk and don’t say anything to me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll fuck you again if you do.”

She blushed and stepped out of the room.

The second she was gone, I fell back into my chair and shook my head.

Twice in less than twenty four hours? Jesus...

I pulled up my latest case file, but I couldn’t bring myself to read it. All I could think about was Aubrey.

I’d felt something like this before, and I knew it would lead to nothing but despair. What I felt was nothing deep, nothing all-encompassing—yet, but it was real, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I’d built the last six years of my life detaching myself from any chance of having feelings for someone else, refusing to build any friendships, but Aubrey had snuck by my impenetrable doors somehow. And not only had she snuck by, she’d done it with lies, something I would never allow from anyone else. Something that would make me immediately discard her and never think of her again.

I had absolutely no idea how to handle this. This was uncharted territory and I had no idea where to sail next.

Sighing, I picked up my case file and forced myself to read the first few pages so I could get a grip on myself. Before I knew it, I was lost in my work, and the only thing on my mind was how I was going to convince a jury to believe my latest client’s bullshit.

Before I could call the lead prosecutor and ask what he was offering in exchange for a plea deal, I felt something hot splashing into my lap.

My goddamn coffee.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I dropped my papers to the desk, glaring at a red-faced Aubrey. “Did you just throw that into my lap on purpose?”

“I did.” She nodded, and I realized there were tears in her eyes. “Bringing you your coffee is my job, right?”

“Are you fucking bipolar?”

“No, I’m just a liar like you said. I’m actually just like you, but at least I can admit when I haven’t told you the truth, at least I have a reason.”

“Excuse me?”

Tears fell down her cheeks. “You have a visitor at the front desk.”

“Is it your replacement?” I asked dryly. “Because I swear to God, if these stains don’t come out of my pants—”

“It’s your wife.”