Body of Law (Body of Law #1) (2 page)

Even from behind I could see how in shape he was, his suit clearly tailored to fit his tall, masculine frame. His golden-brown hair was perfectly cut, right up to his short sideburns, and when he turned I could see the rest of his face was nearly as perfect. And yet, it wasn’t just the sharp nose and deeply embedded brown eyes that took my breath away.

It was the fact that I had known Sebastian Scott my entire life.

Chapter 2

Violet

Well, my entire life was an exaggeration. Still, considering how intense my crush on Sebastian Scott had been, it certainly felt that way. Figments of him remained in my memory from my teenage years, capsulated right there between Dad grading papers and my first genuine attempts at cooking. Even before Mom died, Dad couldn’t help but take his work home with him. And to him, the young undergrad was just like one of the many law books he lugged home, day after day.

Sebastian had been one of my dad’s favorite projects. And as far as I knew, he was the only project that failed.

***

“Vi, are you done with your homework?” From somewhere on the other side of the house, my father’s voice called out to me. Without hesitation, I dropped my pencil and headed for the kitchen, more curious than anything at the exotic smells wafting toward me.

“There you are.” Dad smiled at me the moment I walked into the room. Marrying late, he hadn’t expected to outlive his young wife, let alone be a single father. Still, I always thought he did a decent job of it. “Set the table for me, will you? And add another plate—we might have a guest.”

Excited at the prospect of meeting someone new, I hopped to attention, scurrying to the cupboard where we kept our mismatched dinnerware. 
“A guest?”

“One of my students, a very promising undergrad…”

I rolled my eyes and searched for forks and spoons. According to Dad, all of his students were either “very promising” or showed “exceptional potential.” These were things I’d heard so often that I'd just stopped listening. Instead, I focused on folding napkins and arranging glassware. It was only after a minute that I realized he was looking at me with one of his brows furrowed—a trademark of his paternal concern.

“Violet, do me one more favor, okay?”

Uh-oh. I knew that voice—the overprotective Dad voice. “Sure?”

“If Sebastian does end up coming over tonight, just be a little wary of what he says. Maybe don’t take him so seriously. I understand he can be quite a flirt with the co-eds—”

I shook my head, moving to take the wooden spoon out of Dad’s hands and take over the chili. “I’m fourteen Dad. I can practically take care of myself.”

He laughed and ruffled my hair. “Tell me about it. Sometimes I think—”

Dad stepped aside to cough then, a memory that stood out as the first of many coughing fits in a long series that led to his end.

I was sure my face was revealing every emotion I was feeling, but Sebastian’s remained stoic and cold, almost as if he didn’t remember me at all. Instantly, my insides reeled at the thought, but I didn’t know why. It seemed like he was eying me suspiciously, but I did my best to meet his gaze.

“Ah, Sebastian, I think this one is yours. Sebastian, meet Violet Donovan, top of her class at Illinois State University, and highly recommended by the staff at UCL.”

It took me a minute to recognize the snowbird as Roger Gardner, the most famous lawyer in Chicago, but after I did, I went back to staring at Sebastian. Apparently, Dad’s reputation had gotten me further than I’d thought. A well-known district attorney before he’d retired to teach, Dad had probably run into Roger Gardner more than once. If that was the case, I was probably in for more sludge work than I could have imagined.

Roger smiled in my direction but I only shrugged. The subtle mention of my father made me more uncomfortable than I anticipated.

Rolling his eyes, Sebastian switched his briefcase from one hand to the other. It was the most I’d seen him move in the few seconds we’d spent staring at each other and the tension between us flat lined. Instantly, however, our moment was interrupted by the fountain of words that was Quinn Morgan.

“Mr. Gardner, sir, always a pleasure to see you sir. Did you catch the game last night, sir? I really thought the Cubs had it there—”

Gardner sighed. “Go away, Morgan.” 

“Yes, sir.”

Sebastian raised his hand and waved to Quinn with flimsy fingers. For a second, I thought I sensed a moment between the two, but ignored it—office gossip was something I didn’t want to get caught up in. Despite the tension, I extended my hand to Gardner and put on my best smile.

“Mr. Gardner, it’s such a pleasure to meet you in person. I’ve read so many things about you, I almost feel like I know you.”

It might have felt a little like ass-kissing, but it wasn’t untrue, either. The top criminal defense attorney in the city, Roger Gardner was just as well known in the criminal underworld as he had been in my study classes. For the hard-nosed bad guy I always imagined him to be, however, his handshake was subtle, his eyes kind. Maybe it was this approach that had won the juries over—after all, who would argue with a well-dressed grandpa?

“The feeling is mutual, Ms. Donovan.” He looked back and forth at the two of us and smiled. “I’m sure you’ll learn a lot from Sebastian here.”

I automatically panicked. “I t-thought Mr. Morgan—”

“Morgan has enough on his plate,” Gardner said. “Besides, Sebastian here got to skip his year as the mentor for the summer associates team, so he gets to make up for it now.”

Gardner turned to leave and was only two steps away from us when Sebastian dropped his briefcase and tried to catch-up to him. “Roger? Roger? Is this really necessary?” He looked back at me and sighed, like he had never been more annoyed in his life. “I understand I may have been a
bit
out of line in court the other day, but this? You’re sticking me with this infant of a girl who can’t even dress herself? If I wasn’t so tired, I’d be downright pleased with my ability to piss you off.”

I stared at my shoes while they mumbled something else between them. With the receptionist talking even louder and the distance between us, it was hard to make out the rest of it. However, given how Gardner was chuckling as he walked away, I got the impression he’d won.

“Great.” Sebastian sighed and looked past me to the receptionist. “Can you believe this?”

From the corner of my eye, I saw her shrug, but she said nothing. I kept silent as well, silently fascinated by the lack of change in his good looks. Vague images of my father’s funeral passed through my head— he had the same look of disenchanted humor as he did then. Only in the rare moments when Dad brought him home for holiday dinners and summer barbecues did I ever see  warmth there— or at least I thought I had. I smiled at him now and tried to muster up some confidence.

“Hello.”

Now focused on a stack of mail the receptionist had handed him, Sebastian only acknowledged my presence by handing me his briefcase. I reached for it without hesitation, surprised by the electricity I felt when our fingers overlapped for just the briefest of seconds.

But once again I was on the move, following him like the obedient lap dog I quickly saw myself becoming. One after the other he threw envelopes, discarding them by tossing them over his shoulder as if they were confetti. Was he trying to throw them to me? I struggled to pick them up as they landed on the ground, swearing silently in my head and reminding myself of the paycheck I’d be receiving at the end of the week.

“I—um—excuse me—”

Sebastian ignored me and kept walking, intentionally, it seemed, swerving around people who walked passed and occasionally switching it up by throwing one of the envelopes straight into the air instead of down. By the time we reached the oak door with his name engraved on the plaque, I felt more than relieved. I followed him through the door and instantly decided that whoever had decorated the criminal law halls must have decorated Sebastian’s office, too. His entire office had a steel interior feel to it, dark marble creating a border between the white walls. Like everywhere else, it brought out the shine of the ink-black furniture and the black walnut desk. The only hint of color came from the sunlight outside, and even then, the blackout blinds were only halfway open. I shivered, even though the air conditioning had just come on and the interior temperature was anything but cool.

“Nice office.”

“I know.” His hands were empty now, but mine were more than full. Between his briefcase, envelopes, and a couple of manila envelopes, my arms practically overflowed with his correspondence. Struggling, I went to empty the majority of it on one of the chairs across from his desk, but was stopped with a firm glance and a shake of his head.

“Don’t put that there.”

I gritted my teeth and looked to the glass coffee table. One foot in that direction, though, and his voice rattled me again.

“Not there, either.”

I forced myself to smile yet again. If I unleashed my temper now, all of my efforts would be for nothing.

“Then where should I put it?”

“Beats me.” He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. “Most of it is Morgan’s, anyway. I just take it to screw with him.”

“I see.” I pressed my lips together knowingly. Apparently, Sebastian’s compulsion as a prankster had changed as much as his looks.

He smiled for the first time, seating himself in his tall desk chair before spinning around to look away from me.

“Well, can you
see
I’m due in court in twenty minutes?” he asked. “Do you think you can get me a coffee within five of those minutes? Or is that unseeable in your little future?”

I watched him stare out of his windows at the street. I hadn’t seen him in eight years, hadn’t heard so much as a peep since my father’s funeral, and yet he seemed the same as before. Steady and strong, but dark and damaged all at once. I shifted the weight of the contents in my hands and reminded myself to blink.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

“That depends.” Sebastian turned, craning his neck so he could look me up and down. Though his expression remained indifferent, something about it struck me straight to the bone. “Are you eighteen?”

I dropped the pile on his desk. “Twenty-three actually. But I’m—”

“Here to test my caffeine tolerance? My god, you’re a boring girl…” He turned his head back to the window. What his facial features expressed after that, I couldn’t tell.

“Okay, so I’ll drop these at Mr. Morgan’s office—”

“I’m going to have to spell things out for you, aren’t I?” I thought I heard him chuckling but I couldn’t be sure. “I bet I know how you got to the top of your class—”

“Where should I put his mail then? Your office would be the first place he would look.”

“Which is why I don’t hide it here anymore.” Was that anger I heard in his voice? When did that happen? “Jesus fucking Christ, if I have to drag you by the leash to do everything I need you to do, nothing will get done.”

“Okay” I dug my heels into the carpet. “I’m all over it. Do you need anything else?”

Turning again, he smiled at me wryly, his glance intentionally looking me over before resting on my chest. “Oh, so many things” When I blushed, he chuckled warmly. “But for now, a coffee will do.”

Chapter 3

Sebastian

The sun was just starting to make its way past the shades when my alarm went off. Ideally, I should have been up an hour earlier—gotten in a few miles on the treadmill while catching up on all the new ways the stock market was going to disappoint me. But once I was through with that girl from the perfume counter—the best thing I’d picked up from Neiman Marcus in a long time, by the way—and I’d finally convinced her that
no, she couldn’t spend the night
, I was excruciatingly tired.

Perhaps turning thirty was the cliché everyone said it would be.

I threw back the feather-stuffed divan and stretched before moving to rise. My eyes focused and I saw the modicum of mess what’s-her-name and I had left in the bedroom of my 4,240 foot penthouse. There was a broken lampshade and wine spilled on the floor, my torn shirt nearby. More than one used condom stuck to the floor… I sighed and made a mental note to leave an additional tip for the housekeeper. After all, there was rarely a problem money couldn’t solve.

Thinking nothing else of it, I walked over to my cappuccino machine and fixed myself a cup before making my way to the bathroom: the morning routine. Regardless of how tired and annoyed I felt by all of it, there were some aspects of my everyday life that I still abided by, still appreciated.

As critical as some routines were, however, others were inconsequential, the bane of my existence really. There was the mundane chatter with the receptionists, the back and forth in court, and the mandatory staff meetings that Burke’s spokespeople insisted on twice a week. Out of all of it, my morning shower and coffee were the only routines I genuinely enjoyed anymore. A combination of the high pressure and the hot temperature of the water always seemed to ease the hangover, not to mention help soothe my aching muscles from a long workout. Of course, the shampoo and soap I had imported from Europe didn’t hurt, either.

I wiped the steam from the mirrors and assured myself there were no grays in sight, not a muscle sagging. It was positively reassuring how my looks had held up over these last years. Thanks to meticulous work-outs and sunblock use, I still looked like a student, a student who now brought in over $2 million a year in billings.

Once I was satisfied, I decided on one of my Hugo Boss suits—the slim-fit, three-piece dark charcoal— and styled my hair accordingly. In retrospect, perhaps it looked too young, but I liked the youthfulness it afforded me. After a dab of spiced cologne, I headed toward the elevator, another day in a long line of endless weeks.