Willful Violation (Lawyers Behaving Badly Book 3) (5 page)

R
aphael had left
her at least half an hour ago.

She knew because she’d watched an episode of some new reality cooking show, and now it was finished. She didn’t want to start the next episode.

Thirty minutes, though. That was triple Raphael’s estimate. At the very least, he should have returned to check on her.

It wasn’t like Raphael to forget. He led his life with precision, even when he was smacking her ass and fucking her brains out. And apart from those instances, he was invariably polite.

Frowning, she smoothed down the bottom of the trooper’s shirt and went into the hallway.

She walked past the office. Apparently there were enormous sliding doors that closed the room off. She hadn’t noticed them—twenty-foot-long doors didn’t exist in her world.

She thought about knocking. Why had she come out here, if not to check in?

But had she thought they’d… what? Left her? Of course not.

So, why are you here?

The answer stirred up from deep within her. Because the meeting was taking too long, and Raphael had been too busy or distracted to update her, which almost certainly meant something was wrong.

Her bosses wanted to keep her in the dark, to protect her, but Maisie didn’t agree with their reasoning. She’d believed them when they’d said they had nothing to do with Norman Ballystock’s death.

Without fully giving herself permission, she drifted closer to the closed doors, then closer still, her neck bent, her brow furrowed in concentration.

She couldn’t hear a damned thing.

For all she knew, they’d gone somewhere else… and might be returning at any second.

Just as she was about to pull away, she heard a man clearing his throat.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad plan,” Ethan said. “But it’s our last resort.”

Someone groaned. Probably Trent; Raphael was more likely to give a detailed argument listing the reasons he disagreed.

She couldn’t walk away now; she had to know what the plan was.

“Let’s think about this rationally,” Raphael said. “How much risk are we facing? What can we do to mitigate our exposure if we don’t take this preemptive step?”

“It’s easily undone once everything is settled,” Trent said.

“Oh?” Sarcasm dripped from Ethan’s voice. “So, I suppose you’re volunteering to sacrifice yourself?”

“My family would disown me,” Trent said. “Being second-generation Japanese comes with baggage. You know that.”

“My family’s not much better,” Raphael said. “I don’t want to get written out of my grandfather’s will.”

“So, you two came up with this brilliant idea, but I’m the one who will have to deal with the daily consequences.”

“It protects us all,” Raphael said. “Anyway, you were the one who brought it up first.”

“That’s a good point,” Trent said quickly. “What changed?”

Maisie’s frown deepened.

Were Trent and Raphael trying to talk Ethan into confessing? It had to be something along those lines.

They wanted Ethan to play the hero, yet again. He’d gotten the scar on his face while saving a former employee. Maisie still didn’t understand exactly what had happened that day—the two stories she’d heard had conflicted greatly on some pretty important details—but Ethan’s role of hero was indisputable.

Poor Ethan
, she thought.

“Nothing changed,” Ethan said.

“You thought I’d be the one doing it,” Raphael said. “And I would. But after my brother’s antics the last few months, I can’t do that to my parents.”

“What if you don’t tell them?” Trent asked.

“What if
you
take the hit but don’t tell
your
parents?” Raphael asked.

“You know very well I can’t do that,” Trent said.

“All right,” Ethan said. “We don’t have to make a decision this instant.”

“Sooner is better than later,” Raphael said. “If we go that route, it needs to happen in the next week. You know that.”

“Maisie is probably getting restless,” Trent said. “That woman gets into trouble when she’s bored.”

Maisie scowled. She didn’t want to miss anything they said, but she especially didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping, so with great regret, she pulled herself away from the door and hurried back to where Raphael had left her.

She’d barely gotten herself situated when Raphael strolled in, his hands buried in his pockets, his expression distracted.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

He tilted his head and looked at her for what seemed like an eternity. Fear began to crawl along Maisie’s spine—what if they knew she’d been listening?

She was just about to confess, to point out that she’d only overheard a little, when Raphael smiled.

“It will be,” he said. A thoughtful expression crossed his face. “I forgot to mention that your friend called the office this morning. Heather Plithen. From Lotani.”

Maisie felt like she’d come down with a sudden fever—chills and everything. “We went to school together, but I wouldn’t say she’s a friend.”

He nodded as if that made sense. “Well, she set an appointment for tomorrow. It seems Lotani is looking for new representation. If we were to take them on, they’d be one of our biggest clients, Maisie.”

She swallowed. “I think Heather might not be serious.”

“That was my first thought.” He sat on the chair beside her. “To be honest, her first message sounded like a prank. She claimed she’d met Ethan yesterday, but he only has a vague recollection of her. But because she also said she knew you, we returned her call.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Maisie said, unable to savor the small victory of Ethan not having noticed Heather. She was worming her way in anyway.

“I’m glad we did. She’s coming with the Bobs. That’s Bob English and Robert Hollis, the founders of Lotani. Whatever you said to her on the street, she was impressed.”

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t be modest, Maisie. If we sign them, you’ll get a referral bonus. It would work out to quite a bit of money. Six figures.”

That
was
a lot of money. Enough to cover moving expenses when the owner of her condo found a buyer. She could pay off most, if not all, of her student loans and credit card debt.

But Maisie didn’t trust Heather. The scheming witch was up to something, and it probably had to do with Ethan.

M
aisie was huddled
in the doorway of the building next to Fortune Tower. She’d been staked out there for twenty minutes and counting.

Heather and the two Bobs were likely to show up any second now. Maisie didn’t know if they’d be coming in a taxi or a chauffeured car, so she scrutinized every vehicle that stopped in front of the building.

A dark gray sedan glided up to the curb.

Maisie couldn’t see the occupants, but she counted three people in the back.

The driver got out and sprinted around the car to get the door.

Now Maisie was positive. Heather was the kind of person who expected everyone to roll out the red carpet for her.

A pair of long legs emerged, followed by the rest of Heather.

Holy. Shit.

Heather’s tight black dress was completely inappropriate for the meeting. It was made from two fabrics, one solid black, the other a softer shade. It molded to her waist and hips.

The two men who followed her out of the car didn’t seem to be paying attention. Maybe they’d gotten desensitized.

But Heather would be a feast for the eyes of any heterosexual man. She tossed her head, and the sunlight played with her gleaming blonde hair.

Maisie’s mouth had gone completely dry. She pressed deeper into her hiding place. That fucking dress. It stopped several inches above Heather’s knees. It was suitable for a nightclub, not a business meeting.

But then, LB&B were the ones being interviewed here. Heather could show up in whatever she wanted, and no one would complain.

God, oh, god, why the hell had she told Heather where she worked?

One of the men said something—they were both in their fifties, Maisie guessed—and Heather threw back her head and laughed. Maisie didn’t need to hear it to know it was fake.

The three headed into the building, Heather’s hips swaying provocatively. Guys walking by stared openly.

That dress had probably been very expensive.

Up close, it was probably even sluttier.

* * *

M
aisie paced
in front of the building. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her throat, her head.

This was a spectacularly bad idea.

If she went up there, her bosses would probably kill her.

But then she imagined Heather in that skintight, low-cut dress, leaning on the conference table, giving Ethan an eyeful.

Maisie’s entire body shook with repressed rage, and she dipped into her purse to grab her cell phone.

“Good afternoon. LB&B Law. How may I help you today?”

It was Mrs. Donahue. Maisie would have recognized that voice anywhere; it populated plenty of her nightmares.

“Hi,” Maisie said, disguising her own voice, making it a little higher and assuming an exaggerated Southern accent. “May I speak with Jayne Torrabadella, please? It’s about a meeting.”

“One moment.”

The silence gave Maisie a chance to change her mind.

To think this through before it was too late.

But then an image popped up of Heather sitting on the edge of the conference room table, spreading her long, toned legs… Ethan pulling at his tie, lust in his eyes as he unzipped his pants and—

“Hello?”

“Jayne! It’s Maisie.”

“Oh, hi. How are—”

“Listen, LB&B has a referral program, right? Because I referred a friend, and she’s meeting with you guys today. It’s a corporate client. I’d like to attend the meeting as well.”

“Look at you, hustling. You don’t need to worry about getting your referral,” Jayne said. “They’re very honest about that.”

“Yes, well.” Maisie’s mind raced. It was difficult to think when she was in full-out panic mode. “My friend would feel better if I was at the meeting. I originally told her I couldn’t make it, but my job interview let out early, and it so happens that I’m here now.”

“Ok,” Jayne said hesitantly. “When’s the meeting?”

“In ten minutes. My friend is probably already there. She’ll be thrilled to see me.”

Maisie remembered how Heather’s ass had looked in that dress.

Then she remembered the one thing that Jayne always complained about: she never got to do any work for big clients.

Maisie felt like a piece of shit, but this was important. “The client is Lotani.”

“Lotani is looking for new representation?”

“I bet you’d fit in with what they’re looking for.”
You’re scum, Maisie.
She ignored the voice. “I should put in a good word for you. If you’re interested…”

“Are you kidding? Why don’t you come up? I’ll find out which room they’re meeting in—”

“Actually, could you come and get me? I don’t have a pass anymore.”

There was a moment of silence, and Maisie could just imagine what was going through Jayne’s mind. Bringing a visitor up without a pass was against the rules, but weighed against a chance to get in at the top with a huge client?

“On my way,” Jayne said. “I’ll meet you on the street, just outside the lobby.”

* * *

J
ayne was even prettier
than Maisie remembered.

Her mane of wheat-blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders in soft waves, and her peaches-and-cream complexion was positively luminous.

Today she wasn’t wearing one of her sexy pantsuits. No, today she was wearing a white dress. It wasn’t clingy—in fact, the bottom was loose—but it highlighted her curves, especially when she walked.

She looked like a fashion doll, only prettier.

Fuck.
Maisie really had to get her job back.

She trusted her bosses. They’d brought up the idea of being exclusive, after all. Or was that exclusive without condoms?

There hadn’t been much discussion around it.

And Maisie was a realist. Trent, Ethan, and Raphael were powerful and dominant, but they were still men.

Men who were very, very hot, and filthy rich.

Eventually they were going to get tired of her. Attorneys worked late hours. Anything could happen.

It was a losing game; Maisie knew that. But if she could get even three good months, then she would let go…

Jayne pressed a badge into Maisie’s hand.

“It’s Mrs. Donahue’s,” Jayne said once they were through the turnstiles. “I told her I misplaced mine and just had to run down here to grab something from a client, but I’ll need to take it right back to her when we get up there.”

That felt like a bad omen.

Things weren’t bad enough, and now she was impersonating Mrs. Donahue? It would have been funny if it weren’t so tragic.

“The meeting is in the conference room at the end of the hall. Could you wait for me just outside, and we’ll go in together? I wouldn’t feel comfortable walking in alone—you were invited, not me.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks, Maisie,” Jayne said.

Don’t thank me yet
, Maisie thought.

A few minutes later, Maisie was pacing outside the conference room. She could hear muffled voices, but she’d managed to stop short of bursting through the door.

So far.

Jayne turned the corner and quickly walked toward her. Her eyes were shining. “Ready?”

As Jayne turned the handle, Maisie steeled herself for the performance of her life.

“The second concern…” Trent’s voice trailed off.

Everyone in the room was staring at Maisie and Jayne.

“Hello,” Maisie said. She’d had a whole thing rehearsed, about how she wanted to make sure that everything was going smoothly, but the look on Ethan’s face froze the words in her throat.

She could sense Jayne getting uncomfortable as well.

“Please take a seat,” Raphael said. His tone was polite, but there was a threatening darkness in his eyes.

Maisie and Jayne quickly followed his suggestion. So far, Maisie hadn’t looked at Heather or the two men, though she’d seen them in her peripheral vision. She finally looked over and saw that absolutely no one was paying attention to her.

They were all staring at Jayne.

Well, not
everyone
was, but Ethan, Trent, and Raphael had seen Gorgeous Jayne every day for years. They were probably immune to her beauty.

“The second concern,” Trent said, “is a potential conflict of interest. We represented Triple Why until four months ago. I’m not at liberty to discuss details, and their current status here at the firm is uncertain, but they are one of your competitors and would present a conflict for us.”

One of the Bobs nodded. “We anticipated that,” he said, “but this is a lot of business we’d be bringing. Far more than Triple Why, I’m sure.”

“We’re merely alerting you to the potential obstacles,” Trent said, but he was looking at Maisie again.

There was nothing in his expression to suggest that he’d somehow guessed her reason for showing up. Well, if they did ask her, she planned to deny, deny, deny.

And then, deny some more.

She rested her hands on the tabletop and clasped them together.

“I’m more concerned about finding someone we can work closely with,” Heather said. She was smiling at Trent.

Who was looking at Maisie.

It would have been a nice feeling under different circumstances.

“That won’t be an issue, Heather,” the other Bob said. He was distinguished and rather attractive. Maisie wondered if he was sleeping with Heather.

“It shouldn’t be,” Raphael said. “But if you can’t trust your potential new law firm, who can you trust?”

“Any more questions?” Ethan asked.

Now Heather was staring at him, and Maisie wanted to punch her. Not because of jealousy, but because Heather’s behavior was so goddamn rude. Maybe she wasn’t gawking at his scar, but it sure looked like it.

Maisie had never hated Heather as much as she did in that moment.

The two strangers started to stand, and then everyone was getting to their feet. Maisie expected Heather to come over, maybe say something snarky, but instead she pushed her way to where Ethan was standing.

“I wanted to take a moment to say hello,” she said. “The benefit last night was nice, wasn’t it?”

Ethan nodded once. Maisie knew him well enough to see that he was irritated… and she also knew the reason for that irritation.

She
was the reason. By showing up at the office when she’d been ordered to stay away.

“Did you enjoy Penn?” Heather asked in a simpering voice.

“I confess I barely remember it,” Ethan said. “Excuse me.”

He turned and headed right for Maisie. “A word, please. You, too, Jayne.”