Liability (Alfha Law Firm 2)

“What?” she asks, pulling her head away from my chest and blinking up at me, looking adorably disheveled.

“Would you like to eat dinner in here, on the couch, or in the kitchen, at the bar?”

“Oh...wherever you want is fine with me,” she says, laying her head back down.

“In the kitchen,” I say, knowing if we stay in here I will not be able to keep my hands off her and she will most likely end up riding my face before she’s able to have one bite of her meal. She will need her strength for the things I have planned for us.

Lifting her off me, I take her hand and lead her to the kitchen, getting her settled on one of the barstools and stealing a kiss before going to the fridge. “What would you like to drink?”

“Do you have sweet tea?” she asks quietly, studying my every move.

“I don’t, but I’ll tell Sue, my housekeeper, to pick some up,” I tell her, and her brows pull together.

“You’re going to be here a lot, Fern. You opened your legs for me, let me eat your sweet little pussy and feel your virgin cherry on my finger. That cherry is mine, your body is mine, and you are mine. Like I said, you’re going to be here a lot,” I promise.

“You’re scaring me,” she says, breathing heavily.

“You’ll get over it, and you’ll get used to me.”

I know she wants to say more, but she smartly presses her lips together. If she thinks I’m going to give her up, she has another think coming. She’s lucky she’s in school, or I would find a way to move her in with me.

Grabbing her a juice and myself a beer, I pull off my shirt and toss it toward the living room before sitting down on the stool across from her.

“Eat, baby,” I nudge her knee, bringing her eyes from my chest up to mine, waiting for her to take a bite before I do.

“My grandfather talks about you,” she says, moving around a piece of sushi on her plate.

“What does he say?” I ask her, seeing her face has lost some of its color.

“Nothing, I don’t know why I brought it up.”

“Tell me,” I command, sitting back and crossing my arms over my now bare chest.

“He... he says you’re a player, that you will never settle down,” she whispers.

“He was right,” I agree, watching her eyes fill with hurt. “He was. I won’t lie to you and tell you that I haven’t bedded a lot of women in this city, but not one of them has been to my home. I wouldn’t care if any of them were at the bar with their friends, and I sure as fuck wouldn’t be sitting across from any of them sharing a meal while they wore my clothes.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, ducking her head again and pulling at the hem of my shirt. I do have a reputation in this city, but I have never felt what I’m feeling right now with any of the women I have been with, and I refuse to let my past ruin my chances of getting what I want. And I want Fern more than I want my next breath.

Once she’s finished eating, I clean up the empty containers then lead her to the bedroom without giving her a choice.

“Get into bed. I have some stuff to take care of,” I tell her gently.

“I need to brush my teeth.”

“Okay, then go brush you teeth then get into bed,” I say, giving her a kiss and a tap on the ass, sending her into the bathroom. Once the door is closed, I let out a frustrated growl. I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t want to scare her off, but I also need to be inside her.

Running a frustrated hand through my hair, I head toward my office and sit down at my computer. I need her to trust me. I need her to get to know me, but how the hell do I do that? I’ve never dated any woman more than a few times. I know how to make a woman beg for me, but how the hell do you make someone fall in love with you?

Giving up on getting any work done, I head across the open space of the kitchen and living room and quietly open my door. The room is dark. Only the light from the hall casting a glow across the expanse of my bed shows me she’s under the covers. Pulling the door closed behind me, I kick off my shoes and take off my pants before getting into bed with her.

“Carter.” Her voice cuts through the darkness.

“I’m here.” I pull her into my body, tucking her head under my chin as I hold her until she falls back asleep. Looking out at the city, I know I will do whatever is necessary to have this for the rest of my life.

Chapter 4

Carter

Leaning back in my chair, I rub my eyes then pick up my desk phone when it rings.

“Carter,” I answer.

“Hey, son, how’s it going?” my dad asks as I sit back, taking a breath. I haven’t seen Fern in three days, and my body is going through withdraws, I think but don’t say, instead muttering, “Good, getting ready to call it a night. What’s up?”

“I just got a call that Mr. McCauley is in the hospital. Seems he suffered a heart attack this afternoon.”

“Shit.” I stand, starting to put my stuff in my briefcase. “What hospital?” I demand, knowing Fern is there, probably scared out of her mind.

“Presbyterian,” he says, but I don’t hear anything else, because I hang up then head out of the office.

“Den, forward all my calls to my cell,” I tell my assistant, who watches me with wide eyes as I move past her, out of the office, and toward the bank of elevators.

Getting into my car, I fight through traffic until I’m parking in one of the lots a few blocks from the hospital. I know Mr. McCauley won’t be expecting to see me, and will probably wonder why the fuck I’m there, but something in me is screaming at me to get to Fern as quickly as I can.

As soon as I arrive at the hospital, I use my charm on one of the nurses until she tells me what room he’s in then jog down the hall in that direction.

Outside the door to his room, I pause when I hear a woman’s voice say angrily, “This is all your fault. I told him the devil was in you, and he didn’t listen,” before hearing a loud bang and a whimper. Without thinking, I open the door to the room, where I find Fern with her back pressed to the wall, while an older woman holds her by the throat.

“Let her go now!” I roar, stepping into the room, noticing the bed is empty.

“Who are you?” the woman asks softly, stepping away from Fern but running her hand down her hair like she was comforting her.

“Come here, Fern,” I command, holding out my hand to her, noticing her face is red and blotchy and there are tears in her eyes.

“Who are you?” the woman repeats, narrowing her eyes on Fern as she steps away from her and comes to my side, burying her face in my chest as she sobs.

“Where is Mr. McCauley?” I ask, hearing Fern begin to sob harder.

“He’s dead,” the woman says with no remorse or concern.

“Jesus,” I hiss, tucking Fern closer to my body, wanting to shield her from this.

“Now give me my granddaughter. I’m taking her home,” she says, holding out her hand in my direction, which causes the woman in my arms to cling tighter to me.