Disdain
Chase
I stand before the bathroom mirror, flipping a silver makeup compact over in my hand. My guest bathroom that has never been used is littered with feminine touches, suddenly making it look very lived in.
It’s at my request, of course, that Jefferson fill it with every assortment that Alexis might need, but that doesn’t stop the irrational frustration at having my sanctuary invaded.
Control and routine. Routine and control. They go hand in hand, and are the foundation of my life. It was my budding law practice that, years ago, became the base of what Lark and Gannet is today.
My ideas. My routines. My connections.
Mike Gannet offered a flare for marketing and a delicate finesse with the clientele that I didn’t possess, which made him a necessary asset. Otherwise, I hate change. Each partner henceforth was hand selected by me, because I deemed them worthy as they offered some valuable benefit for the practice.
And, they had a similar foundation. A belief system that afforded them an invitation into The Firm—an association of the most elite, a membership, if you will, of likeminded, powerful men who like to play and still keep their reputations in tact.
Politicians. Judges. CEOs. Too many great men have been brought down by their pricks. The Firm gives men with means—lots of means—a lucrative way to fulfill their needs without the fear of exposure.
Truthfully, Lark and Gannet makes money—but it doesn’t accrue the kind of wealth that The Firm rakes in.
I built my enterprise one client at a time, safely and securely, into the staple that it is now—and I’ve done so with an idealism and routine that was never questioned. Never challenged.
Until now.
I hate change.
I toss the compact to the counter and look up when Alexis’s reflection appears in the mirror.
My breath stalls in my chest. The elegant black dress hugs her curves as if it was painted on; the silky material stopping right above her knee and revealing her sexy thigh with a long slit that travels all the way back up. The thick straps at top cross over her breasts, wrapping her shoulders.
It was a battle between us; me desiring her to adorn the sheer dress from earlier, and her negotiating for this one now.
As much as I’m loath to admit it, the battle was well worth these results. “Turn around,” I say as I stalk toward her.
With obvious reluctance, she does as told, spinning around as I come up behind her. The open back of the dress frames her sides, leaving her back completely bare. I close in, pressing my palm between her shoulder blades and drag it all the way to where the backside just covers the top of her ass.
I suddenly regret announcing that I’ll be bringing her tonight. Rather, I’m more than tempted to feel the delicate material tear beneath my hands as I shred it from her body.
Still, the desire to see her reaction to The Firm outweighs my carnal instincts.
I press a kiss to the nape of her neck, and am rewarded with her shiver as I sweep my hand around her front and caress her through the silk dress. “Perfect. Let’s go.”
Tonight, Jefferson pulls my personal limo up to the front door as I exit. I rest my hand at the small of Alexis’s back, guiding her just ahead of me toward the sleek, stretched car. I insist she sit across from me rather than too near, because I know my hands will find their way beneath that dress, then there will be no stopping.
Tugging at the knot in my tie, I suppress the urge. “Are you nervous?”
Her legs are crossed, her back ramrod against the seat. She’s been alternating laying her hands in her lap and fidgeting with the straps of the dress. I smile when she settles her hands in her lap again.
“You know I am,” she says, her gaze meeting mine for the first time since we entered the car. “And I feel agitated without my phone.”
Though I’m truly indulging in her anxiousness by keeping her in the dark, there’s a niggle of unease at her admission. I sigh and bring out the phone in question. “Put your concern over your brother out of you mind. I assure you, if you’re needed, I’ll let you know.”
She looks down then, averting her gaze. “Thank you.”
I slip her phone back into my pocket. Although I’d have never advanced her if I felt she couldn’t be trusted, I provide the best services for my clients because I’m cautious. Having her phone in her possession will only distract her from feeling the intense anticipation of the unknown, and I can’t chance she’ll record anything. Besides, she has no messages. Her brother hasn’t contacted her in over six months.
I’m not sure informing her of exactly what his condition is will alleviate her worry, however. Last time I received an update, Jake Wilde had just been released from jail on his own recognizance after a stint in D.C. corrections for a simple possession charge. It’s a misdemeanor, but it’s his third one.
Which is curiously interesting, considering his sister is a paralegal who works with top-notch lawyers. You’d think she’d be his first call. There was some falling out between them years ago, which I had assumed was due to his blowing through his inheritance that was split between them after the death of their parents.