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She doesn’t say anything, but I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m lying. I walk to the door, open it, and step out into the hall. When I glance back, I find her still standing there, still staring at me, her forehead furrowed.
“Get dressed and eat. Understand?”
She nods.
10
Judge
Fuck. What am I doing with her?
I dress in my room, my usual three-piece tweed suit for the rare days I don’t have to be in the courtroom. I could work from home, but I go to my office in town. I need to get away from here, away from her. Even with a wall dividing us, I feel her presence. And it’s fucking with me.
It’s my own damn fault. I should know better. Santiago trusted me to take care of his sister. He has put his faith in me. I’m sure showering with her wasn’t something he imagined I’d be doing as part of her discipline. And the thing after? Against the wall? What the fuck was that?
I look up from the work on my desk and scrub my hand through my hair. It’s the little things she does. When I woke her, how she curled into me, leaning into my hand, and moaning. The way my body reacted when she ran the tips of her fingers over my chest and abdomen. What having her near me does to me. It’s nothing I’ve ever experienced with any other woman. And it’s not just the fact of my dick getting hard at the mere thought of her. It’s more. There’s so much more to Mercedes than anyone knows. Than even her brother, the person closest to her, knows. There’s a vulnerability inside her. She tries to hide it and usually succeeds, but I know she wants to give it over. Give it up and be held in arms strong enough to carry her and give her space to breathe.
I want to be that person. A part of me has always wanted to be that person for her.
But it’s out of the question. I meant what I said. I’m dangerous for her. I have no intention of marrying. I know what I’m capable of, and I won’t do that to her. But I can’t ruin her for another, even if the thought of any other man touching her makes me want to punch my fist through a wall.
I’m reading the same document for the umpteenth time when my phone rings. It’s my secretary. I push a button. “Yes?”
“Judge Montgomery, I’m sorry to bother you, but your mother has called three times. She insists she needs to talk to you.”
My mother. Wasn’t last night enough? “You’re paid to handle things like this, Meredith.”
“I’m so sorry. She’s just…”
I sigh. Meredith is sweet, and I’m sure my mother bulldozed right over her. “It’s all right. I know.” I lean back in my chair. “Put her through.”
“Right away, sir.”
“Well, finally you can find time in your busy day to take my call,” she starts.
“Mother. Good afternoon to you.”
“Afternoon. It’s evening. I’ve been calling all day. That dim-witted secretary you have—”
“What can I do for you?” I ask as I check the time. It’s a little past seven. I didn’t even realize how late it was. And Meredith was probably too nervous to say anything. I’ll make sure she receives overtime for the extra hours.
“We didn’t finish our conversation last night,” she says.
“No, we didn’t. And there’s a reason for that. My brother is a grown man. I think it’s about time he speaks for himself, don’t you?”
“You cut him off, Judge. You can’t do that.”
“Why not? He was blackmailing grandfather.”
I can almost hear her displeasure in the pause before she speaks. “He was protecting himself after your grandfather threatened to take everything away.”
“And why did he do that, mother?”
Silence.
“Selective memory?”
“What he did was wrong.”
