Hey guys! I know it's been almost a month... thank you to all of you who reached out to me and (very enthusiastically) asked about when this was coming!
This chapter is a bit of a shake up: Darien's POV! What's going on in that mind of his?
A HUGE, GRACIOUS, CHEERLEADER-ESQUE shoutout to Pia Bartolini, who took the time to Beta this and include some fantastic edits, formatting, and cleanup to this chapter! I worked this story in sections and it was definitely not pretty. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!
Please leave a review and let me know how you like it!
She's here late again.
I study her from my doorway, transfixed. What admin voluntarily sticks around until nine on a Friday night?
As much as I know I should look away, I can't help but catalog every detail. The way her eyebrows are snapped together, her gaze fringed by careless, easy curls as she reviews a deposition I don't recall passing her way.
Damn.
I cross my arms and frown, but I can't stop. What is it about her that I can't stop thinking about her? She's my assistant. My married assistant. Remember, she's splitting from her husband. I raise my eyebrows and contemplate the news Serena shared at the bar two weeks ago.
While it's true, I can't help but remember my own divorce. How much it fucking hurt when I found out she cheated on me. Cheated and conceived, no less, and how thrilled she was. So quick to leave me to marry him instead and have the baby I wouldn't give her.
Thankfully, my iron-clad pre-nup and my colleagues processing the divorce paperwork kept my wallet from being screwed over as well. But I'd be a damn liar if I didn't admit I think about it, still. What my life might look like if I hadn't refused to start a family with her, younger than I planned.
Instead, here I am. Unable to stop thinking about a woman who, ironically enough, has kids. And not just kids, older kids. I had honestly assumed that the girl with her at Starbucks a few months ago really was her sister. I must have looked like a complete idiot when I put two and two together.
Her position changes, setting down the paperwork to check her watch, and I hastily drop my gaze. I know this is the prime opportunity to turn away, but I watch furtively instead. Maybe she's wising up and about to head home rather than stick around here. After all, it's late. If she leaves, maybe I can get back to my own work rather than stand here and stare at her like some love-struck buffoon.
I watch as Serena lifts her purse up and pull out a sleeve of bright orange-tinted crackers. No. That's not what I think it is, is it? Processed peanut butter sandwich crackers? I gulp as I watch her tear at the plastic sleeve and place the horrible excuse of a meal on her desk and return to her task.
I'm about to do something stupid. I can just feel it.
My left heel lifts off the floor and I find myself moving toward her desk.
Why?
Why am I doing this?
Because you want to get to know her better.
I inwardly groan; why am I so stupid?
By the time I reach her, I am officially berating myself. This is inappropriate. Unprofessional. Senseless. Yet, I can't stop the words from falling out of my mouth.
"You're still here?"
Her eyes leave the black and white print of the deposition and meet mine. I have never seen such a shade of blue before; like the indigo of a lake at sunrise. Woah, Shields, when the hell did you start thinking like that? So. Much. Cheese.
She definitely appears startled, and guilty? "Yeah, I hope that's okay…" she trails off. It's unmistakable, the flicker of emotion that crosses her face as she gives me a small smile. It doesn't take me long to understand the why for her staying late; I used to do the exact same thing.
She doesn't want to go home to an empty house.
I give her a reassuring smile. "What are you looking at?" I ask as I nod my head towards her paperwork.
Her expression turns serious. "I've been reviewing this deposition, and there's something that, I don't know, just doesn't add up."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," she continues, "it's for Jacobson v. PharmaMed. I'm reading the interview with the complainant and something's…" she pauses, as if she's trying to find the right word, "off."
"Off?"
"Yeah."
"What do you mean by 'off?'" I inquire, my curiosity piqued. I have a crack team of attorneys and paralegals working this case.
"I know it's none of my business, or even my job, so I'm sorry if I'm butting in, but…" Serena lets out a deep breath. "She's lying."
"How do you figure?"
My eyes track her slender form as she stands up from her desk and leans in to show me the paperwork, and I feel my breath hitch in my throat. Her perfume invades my senses, the slightest tease of her cleavage peeking out the top of the v-neck button-up she is wearing.
I gulp again and desperately try to refocus my attention to the words on the paper and NOT her chest.
"See here? She talks about how she used the product exactly as the instructions detail?"
She smells so fucking good. "Yeah."
"And that she explains here, in great detail, how she applied the product, where she applied the product, and the reaction she received?"
She looks so confident right now. "Yes."
"I've used this product."
I blink a few times in surprise, definitely not expecting that piece of information. "What?"
"That's why I wanted to read this. I hope that's okay. I wanted to know if my child was at risk, and, well..."
I shake my head in disbelief. "And you found a discrepancy instead." Damn. I'm impressed.
"Yeah," she continues on, and I can hear the excitement build with each word she speaks. "This isn't how you use the product at all." I listen to her as she explains how one uses the product, an eczema cream, and how it's supposed to be properly applied.
"My son had a bout of eczema a year ago," she adds, "it was on the back of his knee. We had to take him to the dermatologist and they prescribed this. It's strong; really, really strong. You have to really use a teeny, tiny amount otherwise it can cause the reaction that she had. And from this description, it seems she lathered her arms up instead, which is why she got these burn-like scabs."
I stand there dumbfounded.
"So I took the liberty of pulling the instructions from the manufacturer, and it does reference using a pea-sized amount in the instructions. In the deposition, Jacobson says here that she 'rubbed the affected area with a nickel-sized amount of product'. That's what got me. A nickel-sized amount is what I'd use if I was using a hand lotion, not a topical steroid."
I take the deposition and the instruction sheet from Serena and look at the wording. Sure as shit, she's right. She is absolutely right. I look up from the paperwork and back to her, mind completely blown. How is it that a team of legal professionals missed this, but my assistant caught it?
"I think you just made our case." And I mean it. From my last update with the team, they were considering settling. After all, the burns and scarring on the complainant were compelling. But right there, in the paperwork of the deposition that our own attorneys performed, was the compelling argument that would prove perjury.
She smiles.
Her lips become a crescent moon, the gleam of her teeth the stars. It's a beautiful, romantic evening right there on her face. To anyone else, that smile may seem ordinary. But to me? Right there, it makes me feel things no smile ever has. A giddy, detached rush. Momentary bliss.
I am captivated by this alluring creature. And fucking doomed.
"Dinner."
The words fly out of my mouth before I have a chance to doubt myself. "It's the least I can do."
I almost implode when I see her cheeks stain slightly. "You don't have to do that," she insists, but I find myself wanting to. I want to so, so bad. I want, no… I need to spend more time with her.
"You like Thai food?"
I nearly topple over when her smile widens and the dimples form on her cheek.
#
My palms sweat against laminated paper.
Not like I need to look at the menu; I never deviate from Chicken Pad Thai. But I know the second I put it down, I'll want to look at her again. Study her face, the curve of her nose, the frame of her jaw, the way her hair tumbles around her.
My menu hiding space is short-lived, as the waiter comes to take our drink order.
Shit Shields, are you in high school? Act like a grown ass man and face her!
"Can I offer you something to drink?" he inquires with a click of his pen. I motion to Serena, allowing her to go first.
"Can I do the lemongrass tea, please? And a glass of water?"
"I'll have the same thing," I add a little too quickly. I'm about to comment on the coincidence of our drink choice when the waiter speaks first.
"And to eat?"
"Oh! Um," Serena says with a pause, "Pad Woon Sen? With chicken, please."
"Of course. How many stars?"
"4 stars."
"Four?" I interject with surprise. Yikes, that's spicy!
She closes her menu and hands it to the waiter. "Yup, 4 stars."
"Wow. Um, you realize that's going to be really hot, right?"
Serena raises her eyebrow to me. "I know; I love spicy food."
I shake my head in disbelief. "If you say so. I'll do Pad Thai, chicken, 1 star, please." The waiter jots down the order and shortly thereafter disappears.
"I take it you're not a fan of heat, then?" Serena inquires. I shrug.
"I like a little spice, but not to the level where I can't feel my face."
"Oh come on, a four isn't that bad," she insists with a giggle.
"Not that bad? I can barely handle a 2, let alone a 4!" I grimace.
"So I take it then when you order hot wings, they're not, ya know, actual hot wings?"
"Nope. I like mine with garlic and parmesan, actually. And boneless, not bone-in."
Her nose wrinkles. "So, you like chicken nuggets?"
"Chicken nu—wha?"
"Boneless wings are basically chicken nuggets, just tossed in sauce! Or in your case, oil, garlic and cheese." She's teasing me. Which means she's more comfortable with me. Which ultimately means, she might be flirting with me?
Woah woah woah woah. "They are not!"
"Are too!"
"Are not!"
She puts her hands up in surrender. "Okay, fine, they're not." After a few seconds, we both start laughing at the ridiculousness of the conversation we've just had.
"That's a good one," I muse as I prop my head on my fist, "chicken nuggets. Now I'll never not think of them as that." She giggles again, her peachy cheeks so youthful that I am again bewildered by the maturity she possesses, the intelligence she exhibits, set against the refreshing pure joy that she emits. It's such a change from the other people in my life; intellectuals, yes, but flat on the entertainment side. Serena is a breath of fresh air; hell, she's a gust of enchantment. The more that I see her, the more I want to spend time with her.
And now that I'm spending more time with her, suddenly I want to know more about her life.
I open my mouth, about to indulge my curiosity, but our dinner has arrived. Sizzling noodles and pungent aromatics snap my mouth shut, but it's worth it. The look on Serena's face when the dish is placed in front of her is equivalent to a child receiving an ice cream cone: pure bliss.
"I take it you enjoy Thai food," I say, snapping apart my chopsticks.
"It is easily my favorite cuisine," she sighs wistfully. "I don't get to enjoy it nearly as often as I should."
"No?"
"Yeah," she suddenly trails off, and once again, I want to put my foot in my mouth. There you've gone and spoiled the evening, dumbass. She's quick to recover, however, as she snaps her attention back to me with a wide smile. "But, now I guess I'll have more of an excuse to, won't I?"
Again, I see it, the front us divorcees put on when trying to be brave.
I never want to see that mask again.
"So, how spicy is it?" I motion to her as she swirls her chopsticks around in her noodles.
"Oh, pretty spicy," she replies with a grin. "Just right. Want to take a bite?"
The playful girl is back. Her eyes twinkling, a mischievous glint beckoning me to play along. Before my mind is fully aware of what the hell I am doing, I reach my chopsticks over to her plate and clasp the translucent noodle. I swear, I can see the peppers radiating heat as I lift it up. Fuck, I am going to regret this. Slowly, I bring them back over to my mouth, deeply, deeply regretting this decision, and pop the noodle into my mouth.
As I begin to chew, I feel the spice take over. My arms, ears, back, neck, I swear goosebumps are spreading like wildfire, the passages in my nose opening and an uncommon amount of snot wanting to drop out. My eyes widen with each bite I take, each one more painful than the next.
But it was worth it.
The laughter on her face, the way she tips her chin back as she giggles, those dimples creasing her cheeks as her smile widens was well worth the misery. My pained swallows and guzzles of water are accompanied by peals of laughter.
And I have no regrets.
#
"Can I ask you something?"
She nods. "Sure thing."
"How come you didn't go back to law school?"
Our pace slows slightly on our stroll back to the office, and I watch as her face transmutes into a variety of expressions. "I'm sorry," I suddenly say, "it's none of my business." Damn it, I ruined this nice night with my big mouth.
She shakes her head. "No, it's okay. I did," she answers. "When Elsie turned one I went back."
I wince. That had to be tough. "Oh."
She sighs with a shrug of her shoulders. "It was too much. A full class load, working, and raising an infant? Something had to give. And daycare, well, she had to be in daycare. And school doesn't exactly pay the bills, you know?"
"No it does not." I've heard the horror stories from friends and colleagues alike; daycare was as much as a mortgage payment.
"I mean, it worked out in the end, I like to think. I work in the same field, just, not what I had planned to be doing."
"Have you thought about going back now that they're older?"
She shakes her head. "No, not really."
"You should."
Serena stops walking and turns to me with a quizzical expression. "Huh?"
I face her fully. "Really, I think you should consider it."
She laughs and shakes her head. "If you think a single baby was hard, two preteens while working full time? There's no way," she trails off, as if she can't believe I'm suggesting it. But I can't help myself. I see the potential. How can I make her see it, too?
"That deposition you reviewed? I have Upton and his paralegal team on that. One of the best in the state. And yet, you caught something that thousands of dollars in billable hours completely overlooked."
"Yeah, but, that's something any paralegal could have found," she counters, although I can hear the consideration in her voice.
"But they didn't." I place my hands on her coat-covered shoulders, looking directly into her eyes. I want her to realize importance of her actions for the company.
The potential I can see that she has.
"You did."
Our eyes are locked on each others, a stare so intense I can feel my heart pounding through my fingertips. The wind picks up around us, fluttering her bangs in a gentle wave that manages to soften the already-angelic features of her impossibly perfect face. My hand twitches, wanting to feel the skin of her cheek against my hand, to touch her lips with mine, to kiss her breathless.
Which makes it so much harder to know that I can't. Shouldn't.
I force my hands off her shoulders and with every ounce of strength I have, will them into my coat's pockets. In there they have no chance of crossing the line, of making what would likely be a disaster of a situation. I slowly pace toward the office again, allowing her to fall into stride with me, and we take the next two blocks back in silence.
Once we reach the glass doors of the office complex, I pull out my keycard and unlock the lobby door, holding it open for her. She's immobile, standing in the darkness, her eyes downcast on the sidewalk.
Damn it, even when I make myself not cross a line, I still manage to cross a bloody line!
"You okay?" I am immediately stricken when those eyes I was captivated by moments ago now are now watery with tears. Tears that I caused.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
"Thank you," she whispers. The words send goosebumps down my arms, my heart to pound once again. "Thank you," she repeats louder. Before I have the chance to respond to her, Serena wraps her arms around me, and I'm knocked off my axis. The feel of her body so close to me is more potent than any whiskey, more exhilarating than any adrenaline rush I've ever experienced. Such a simple gesture, but to me, it was an earth-shattering moment of clarity.
I let go of the metal handle and wrapped my arms around her, returning the welcomed embrace. The crush of her soft form against mine felt so natural, so comforting, like coming home for the first time in years.
And as I continued to hold her, relishing every moment, I felt myself slipping further and further into this hole that I was certainly digging myself into.
I have officially have fallen for my assistant.