She was right.

And I’d gladly do it all over again.

Twenty-One

Ian

I jumped when my office door swung open without warning. Was it wrong I was disappointed that it wasn’t that gorgeous girl blazing through like she did a couple of mornings ago?

Especially with the irate expression Kenneth Millstrom was sporting.

Was I surprised?

Nope.

Irritated and worried and fucking itching like a motherfucker?

Hell yes.

I sat back in my chair and acted like it was any other day. “Good morning, sir.”

He stalked in to stand across from me at my desk. “Don’t good morning me.”

With a frown, I looked up at him, trying to play it off that I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re going to be. Care to tell me about the contract I saw you signed with one Grace Dearborne?”

I tugged at the tie around my neck and cleared my throat. “I’d be happy to. I was contacted a couple of days ago by the potential client. We spoke, and I felt hers was a case I could represent. One that deserved to be represented. One that will be an asset to our firm.”

He planted his palms on my desk. “An asset?”

I kept my chin lifted, refusing to cower. “Yes, an asset.”

“How the hell is going up against Reed Dearborne an asset?”

“You know the kind of recognition and attention a case like this will bring to our firm.”

“Yes, and I also know the kind of trouble it will bring. We’re talking about Reed Dearborne here. He has the entire state eating out of the palm of his hand. We go up against him, and we become the enemy.”

“He’s scum.” I tried to staunch the emotion that wanted to become a part of the word. It trembled with violence anyway.

“Maybe. But you and I both know that doesn’t matter. It’s all about perception. And his ex-wife is about to get dragged through the mud. We take her on, and we’re going to get dragged right along with her.”

“She deserves to be represented, just like anyone else in this country. If we refuse her based simply on who her case is against, we become the bad guys. And you know I’m not afraid to get dirty.”

His eyes narrowed, searching my face.

The guy was a bulldog. There was a reason he was in the position he was. I could only pray he couldn’t sniff me out.

The fact I’d been lost in all that skin and that body and that sweet, broken heart.

“Do you know she came to me the night of the gala and asked me to represent her?” he demanded.

A hard swallow and a short shake of my head. “No, I didn’t.”

“Reed Dearborne showed up that night as well. Introduced himself. You know in this world, a shake of a hand is an alliance. You understand the position this puts me in?”

“When I win this case, you won’t care about that position. The win will speak for itself. You taught me from the beginning that we don’t climb to success by taking the easy route. The easy cases and easy wins. We get there by achieving the impossible. By beating every odd. This one might not be easy, but I assure you, in the end, it will be worth it.”

A win against Reed Dearborne would give the firm an allusion of power and strength.

Tenacity.

Exactly what men like Kenneth and I were made of.

He pushed off my desk. “You better hope you win. Because if you don’t? You’re done. This loss won’t be pinned on me.”

Throat growing dry, I gave a tight nod.

I was putting myself on the line.

My career.

My partnership.

My future.

Everything I’d worked for.

But I refused to consider it a risk.

I was going to win this case. Whatever it took. This win would be the last rung on the ladder to the top.

“I won’t let you down.”

I wouldn’t let myself down.

And for the love of everything that was right, I wouldn’t let Grace down.

He moved for the door and pulled it open, pausing to look back at me. “I hope not.”

He started out, only to fumble a step, and my heart went racing when I saw her. She was dressed in some kind of goddamned skirt suit, pink and cream and gold, the jacket fitted and the skirt not quite landing at her knees.

A motherfucking vision.

“Ms. Dearborne,” he said, agitation lining his posture when he looked back at me as he held the door open for her, the guy sending me a clear and distinct warning.

Don’t fuck this up.

“Mr. Millstrom, it’s so nice to see you again,” she said as she moved into my office, standing on a pair of cream-colored heels.

I tried to remain unaffected.

To pretend like her standing there didn’t have me wanting to do crazy, crazy things.

“I only wish I could say the same,” Kenneth muttered, not saying anything else as he stepped out and closed the door.

Tags: A.L. Jackson Confessions of the Heart Romance
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