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3
JULIETTE
Ichew on the tip of my pen, my eyes drifting aimlessly toward the blank wall in front of me as I picture Alex in his tight gray T-shirt and black jeans as he towered over me.
I knew he’d try to flirt his way into my good graces, and I was well-prepared for that. Seeing his sly attempt to flash me that charming smile was Playboy 101, but the second he stepped toward me and put his foot down, I felt my facade crack. I wasn’t kidding when I told him I have no interest in that macho man bullshit, but clearly, my body thought differently. Something about the way he took control of that conversation had my stomach doing somersaults in ashit, this isn’t goodkind of way.
The truth is, I’m pretty confident my ultimate fantasy is to be manhandled by a guy just like Alex Rockwell. Big, bold, unapologetic and knows his way around a woman’s body. I close my eyes, a tingle worming its way through my belly.
“Jules!”
“Huh?” I snap my eyes open, turning my head around to see Brett in the doorway of my office.
“You okay? I only called your name three times.” He laughs, stepping into my office and sitting on the edge of my desk.
“Yeah,” I say, shaking my head as if that will clear the thoughts of Alex. “Yeah, just working on preparing some notes for the Norcon settlement. Thompson has a meeting with them on Thursday, so I need to make sure everything is outlined correctly.”
“You know we have paralegals who can help you with that, right?”
“Yeah, I’m going to hand it off to them soon. Just want to make sure I’ve done everything I need to do first.”
“You do realize there’s no point in giving it to a paralegal if you’re going to make sure it’s all done correctly first?”
“I’m still struggling with the idea of a paralegal doing any part of my work, okay?”
“Still a control freak, I see,” he laughs. “You sure you’re okay? You were really out of it just now.”
“Yeah,” I say with a look attempting to convey that his concern is ridiculous. “Just super tired is all. Not sleeping enough with this caseload.”
“How are things going with Delmore?”
“Uhh, good.” I hesitate, considering telling him about the threatening note and slashed tire, but decide against it. “I’m actually meeting with three new former employees today. Two have been diagnosed with mesothelioma and the other has chronic inflammation and an autoimmune disease. All three are now saddled with medical debt in the hundreds of thousands.” I sigh, shaking my head at the thought of something so soul-crushing. “I can’t imagine fighting for your actual life while being buried in debt that’s completely out of your control.”
“That’s why we’re fighting the good fight for them. Speaking of,” he hands me a stack of files, “these reports have been fact-checked and collated, and are ready to be handed over when we file the complaint.”
“Great, thank you,” I say, taking the stack and placing it with the others.
“Any idea when you plan to officially file with a judge?”
I sigh and look over at the stack of files I still need to work through. “Not until I’ve finished these, plus the three new victims I’m interviewing today. I think that will be substantial enough evidence that a judge would have to be insane or very obviously paid off not to grant a class certification.”
“The second we file, we need to make sure the judge who is assigned is kept as quiet and safe as possible. No doubt Delmore will try to pay them off.”
“We both know that’s a very big possibility, as messed up as it is.”
“It’s pushing 6:30 now; you staying late again?” He looks at his watch then back up at me.
“No, I promised Chloe I’d be home to make us dinner tonight.” I glance at the clock, double-checking the time. “Or at least bring home dinner,” I say, feeling like I’m failing her a lot lately.
“Perfect, I’ll walk you out.”
I feel relief wash over me at his suggestion. It’s still somewhat early, so the parking garage will be fuller than it was the other night, but still . . . I don’t love the idea of being down there alone.
“Thanks! Let me grab my things and I’ll meet you by the elevator.”
“I assume with your schedule, it’s probably silly to even think about asking you how your dating life is going?” Brett asks as the elevator glides down to the garage.
“Oh God, I haven’t even put those two words together in over a year.” I sigh, shaking my head.
