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A HOT LAWYER NAMED ANDREW: Not safe.
ME: I’ll be fine
A HOT LAWYER NAMED ANDREW: Huh. We’ll see about that.
I rolled my eyes. After the breakup, I had been too embarrassed to tell anyone what had gone down in my relationship and, being kind of done with it all anyway, gave up my CFO position and “retired” early. Money wasn’t everything. I had enough to be comfortable.
Andrew was the only one I had bothered to keep in touch with from my old corporate life. The guy was bit overbearing, but a damn good lawyer, and the Good Lord knew decent legal representation was hard to find. I still had personal investments to manage and such, so I kept him on retainer.
Though we only interacted on a professional level, sometimes he would look at me a certain way…
“Stop. He never looked at you like that,” I admonished myself. “He’s far too hot for a boring gal like you.” Hence why I listed his contact as A HOT LAWYER NAMED ANDREW. He was a fantasy crush type for me, the kind of guy you thought about in lust but knew you could never live up to the expectations needed to be in a relationship with him. He was like one-night-stand material. The kind of guy that you might fall into bed with if the stars aligned and the universe decided to favor you, but it would never go beyond that. Men like him dated models and celebrities, not plump kinksters.
The last time Andrew and I got together for business things got weird. A week or so ago, we’d met at his office to discuss taxes (now that I was no longer working, adjustments were needed) and to go over some seed funding I had provided for some startups.
After Andrew politely inquired after my ex, it took everything in me not to jump to my feet and scream at the top of my lungs what a son-of-a-bitch my ex was. Instead, I had smiled tightly and said, “Thank you for asking, but we’d ended things last year.”
I remember squirming under his intense scrutiny…
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” he asked after clearing his throat to fill in the awkward silence that followed my confession.
I had shrugged off the inquiry. It’s not like we were close friends or something.
“Tell me.” Quiet but authoritative. “I want the truth.”
“It was an embarrassing breakup,” I replied. “Not something to share.”
“This is why you retired.” Statement of fact rather than a question.
“Yes.”
“You have not replaced your ex?”
“No. I am alone. Single, I mean.”
“Interesting. So, you sit home now and do what exactly?”
“Nothing. Stocks. Day trade. At night I hang out at a club…”
“Club?”
I almost lied, but if I couldn’t be honest with my lawyer, then who? “Not a club you would know. It’s a fetish club. BDSM. I imagine you’re thinking that’s weird—”
“Not weird. I don’t kink shame.”
I blushed at the sentiment. “You are kind. Anything else to discuss?”
Andrew failed to suppress a smile. It was something I didn’t see much from him, but when he did do it, his smile could steal your breath.
“I won’t charge you for the last hour, if that is why you are avoiding this conversation,” he offered.
For some reason, that reply had warmed my heart. Probably because I knew better than most how time was money. And his time was wortha lotof money.
“I should go.” I stood and collected my belongings.
“So fast?”
I didn’t need to get attached to him. I crushed enough. A personal friendship would only complicate things, fuck with my feelings. “I’ll call your office to set up out next appointment.”
