KEPT: A Second Chance Fairy Tale (17 page)

Shit
.

“Thank you, Lucy.” Jeremy’s mother grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly in both of hers. “He wouldn’t tell us what he wanted. He still may not, but you and Michael got him talking. He hasn’t said much to either of us in the last few weeks, until today.”

“Mrs. Lehman,” I respectfully address. “I don’t know Jeremy, but it didn’t take a lot to get him talking.”

“And?”

“I’m thinking maybe if he has a chance to talk to someone outside the family, he may say a lot more. He may tell someone what he really wants.”

“Are you suggesting my son see a therapist?”

Michael’s hand touches my back as he positions himself behind me, and I jump at the contact. “Lucy’s not suggesting anything.”

Raising her hand toward Michael, Mrs. Lehman wordlessly tells him to stop talking. She doesn’t look at him as she speaks to me. “I don’t know why it is we’ve never met before, Lucy, but I can assure you that I’m glad we have. Do you have anyone you could refer us to?”

I look past Jeremy’s mother to his father, standing near the door to the office. His hands are on his son’s shoulders and he’s rubbing them with care. It’s clear they love Jeremy, but have also forgotten about him.

“I’ll e-mail you a few. Is that okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” She nods, then looks up at Michael, offering him a watery-eyed smile. “I’ll call you in a few days to let you know how things are going.”

Michael gives a tight-lipped, reassuring nod and pushes on my back as we follow everyone out of the room. Mr. Reynolds hasn’t said a word since Mrs. Lehman spoke, but his cheeks are flushed.

He’s probably angry, but so am I.

“Well, for a broken family, they didn’t look too upset,” Corbin observes as we file out of the conference room. “Are you free now?” he asks Michael.

“Need a minute,” Michael snaps, holding one finger up in gesture. “Lucy, with me.”

Corbin’s eyes widen as he takes in the others waiting by the elevator together. Standing between his parents, Jeremy turns his back on them for a second to look our way. I give him a small, subtle wave goodbye, which he returns.

“My office, Lucy,” Michael pushes.

“I’ll wait here until you two are finished,” Corbin adds with a look of mischief as Michael and I take a few steps back.

Corbin’s enjoying this.

Bastard
.

With my stomach twisting in knots, I enter Michael’s office first. Before he’s all the way inside, I hear Corbin in the background. “Nice, Michael. Remember.”

I don’t understand his message, but also don’t have time to think about it. Michael’s office door slams, so I turn and wait for him to say something.

When he doesn’t, I go first. “I think…”

I stop talking when his angry eyes bore feverishly into mine.

“I don’t know whether to thank you, counsel you, or beat your ass red,” he says in frustration.

“Michael, I told you–”

Ignoring my defense, he clips, “You were supposed to stay quiet. You didn’t.”

“I tried–”

His voice gets even louder. “You were supposed to take notes. You didn’t.”

Michael walks closer, stopping just inches from me. I can smell his aftershave and feel his body heat radiating from his position. He looks so angry, but I still find him so beautiful.

“What do you want to do?” I prod.

He thinks to himself before answering, “Beat your ass red. But even if I did, I don’t think it’d make a bit of difference.”

My face flushes. It doesn’t matter that I can’t see it. I can certainly feel it.

“You want to
spank
me?”

Growing up, I had never once been spanked. My mom raised me on her own and, most of the time, I was the one playing the role of adult. Because of that, I never did anything to warrant that type of punishment.

However, the way he said it insinuates something entirely different. Even if he doesn’t mean it to, his suggestion appeals in a way I know it shouldn’t.

“Or I’d like to gag you,” he says next, surprising me. “But I’d put good money on you chewing through the damn rope, if only to exhaust me.”

Oh, my god.

Gabe and I were far from prudes, but I was also young and didn’t have much experience with sex. As our marriage started falling apart, there wasn’t much of it to speak of. We were merely trying to make our marriage work, not always being comfortable with more.

“Gag me?” I question, my chest moving up and down rapidly.

He notices my flustered state immediately. A small, miniscule trace of a smile crosses his lips, and my mouth falls open as I take it in.

“Michael?” I say in hopes to rein in his attention.

“Woman, you must be tired.”

“What?”

“Do you give
anything
a rest?”

“What?”

Stepping into my space, Michael’s eyes scan mine as he moves in closer. He looks angry and fevered, but there’s also something else.

Something else entirely.

“Keep quiet. That was it. The only instruction you were given,” he reminds me.

I’m being lectured by a grown man. It wasn’t as though I was doing what I did for entertainment. Now, hearing his version of my behavior, I’m pissed.

“Someone had to do something!” I cry out, throwing my arms over my head for no reason other than to exasperate my anger. “He’s a little boy, and his parents–”

“Shut up,” he snaps at me, lifting his hand between us.

Before he’s able to say more, I add, “Fire me then because I’d do it again.”

A menacing glare of annoyance stifles the air between us. His breathing is labored. His reaction to my voice seems to be the catalyst to what’s working between us.

“I’ll do it again,” I repeat for good measure. “Because, I mean–”

I can’t get another word out, the warmth of his hands catch me off-guard right before his lips crash down on mine in a painful fervor. Just when I make the decision to pull away, I try to speak, but his tongue slides into my mouth.

Again and again, he probes, twisting his tongue with mine. Panicking, my back starts to bend as I try to pull away, but Michael’s relentless pursuit continues. Nips, pulls, and a soft bite to my bottom lip leave me swooning in place, bracing my hands on the desk beneath me for balance.

This is a kiss you don’t question.

This is a statement meant to send a clear message.

It’s a gesture full of pent-up frustration.

It’s rich with passion and bursting with desire.

It’s everything I’ve never had.

Not until we’re both breathless does Michael abruptly release me and step back. His eyes avoid mine as he straightens his suit and exhales a heavy breath.

I move around him with caution, still tasting the kiss on my lips. Michael looks much less affected and, I admit, it disappoints me.

Without looking up, he unbuttons his jacket, pulls out his chair, and takes a seat. Reaching for a file, he says calmly, “We’ll talk tomorrow when I’m less likely to think of more creative ways to keep you quiet. Now, go out and send Corbin in.”

Michael

A
FTER LUCY WALKED OUT OF
my office yesterday, I found it impossible to concentrate. I flipped through the active cases on my desk, knowing they required my attention, but it did nothing to distract me from thoughts of her.

She, alone, was all I could think about.

Lucy coaxed Jeremy into saying things I’m convinced he wouldn’t have said otherwise. His reaction to her gentle nature was obvious, and it was something I related to. In the brief time I’ve been around her, I’ve found that the layers of Lucy Monroe run deep. She has a way with people. They trust her.

I should trust her, too.

Rather than thank her for what she’d done, I’d made a pivotal mistake. I let her challenging disposition in the face of my fury get to me. Lucy doesn’t let anything go–ever. So, if only to get her to stop talking, I did exactly what I shouldn’t have. Or so I told myself.

Either way, no matter the reason, I kissed her.

She wasn’t supposed to let me. She sure as fuck wasn’t supposed to respond the way she did. Just when I thought my point was proven and I had momentarily shut her up, her mouth fell open and I went for it. Her body melted into mine. Her soft, sweet moan was an undoing I’d never expected to face.

And that’s exactly what Lucy Monroe is capable of–
undoing me
.

“That’s a bummer, Lucy, but we understand.” I hear Corbin’s voice before I look up to find both he and Lucy entering my office. “I’m sure we can do it another time.”

Lucy’s shy expression comes my way before she can hide it. We’ve been ignoring each other since the meeting in my office, but we have our standard appointment. Rather than cancel and continue to avoid a confrontation, we’re now face to face.

Unfortunately, what she’s wearing today doesn’t assuage the ache. With her short skirt, high heels, and button-down blouse, I’m using all my energy to concentrate.

“What’s fine?” I ask, sitting back and removing my glasses. “Do what another time?”

Corbin looks disappointed as he tells me, “Lucy won’t be able to join us for dinner tomorrow evening.”

“No?” I question, doing a fair job of not hinting that I think Lucy’s full of shit.

“I don’t have a sitter for Dillon,” she explains quietly, which is new. I’ve not found a lot of things about Lucy to be quiet. Or easy, for that matter. “My mom usually watches him on Friday nights, but she can’t this week. She’s not feeling well.”

Even with her well-thought-out reason, I still sense she’s being untruthful.

Corbin, surprisingly not catching on to her antics, moves in to comfort the little liar. “It’s all right. Maybe we can take you to lunch tomorrow instead.”

When Lucy bites her bottom lip, waiting for my reaction, I look to him and suggest, “Or I’ll take her alone.” Once I offer, I relish in Lucy’s obvious panic. “We can have a nice, long chat about work ethics and how honesty is
always
the best policy.”

“Oh, like you’d know…” she starts, but stops when I level my eyes at her.

Corbin’s eyebrows furrow, and it’s understandable as he’s lost in the silent conversation Lucy and I are engaged in. “But, she’s why we’re–”

“I said I’ll take her,” I reiterate. “She’s been here a month. We don’t want to delay the celebration. Do we, Lucy?”

Corbin shakes his head, as Lucy drops hers to study the floor.

“Is that all you need, Corbin?”

Still looking lost, he places his hand on Lucy’s lower back to prod her forward. She turns to him, a pleading look crossing her face before she smiles weakly.

“That’s it,” Corbin replies. “I’m headed downtown for a while this morning. You two won’t kill each other, will you?”

“Nope,” I answer, keeping my eyes on her.

“I think we’re good,” she adds, focusing her eyes on the floor again.

“All right. I’ll leave you to it. Call if you need anything,” he says before walking away.

Once Corbin’s out of earshot, I point to the open area beside me. “Grab a chair, pull it around, and sit down.”

Lucy’s head tilts, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. She points to the chair across from my desk. “But I sit here.”

“Grab a chair, pull it around, and sit,” I say again, this time stronger.

Exhaling a dramatic puff of air, Lucy rolls the chair around my desk and positions it next to mine. However, she’s left enough space between us that it’ll be impossible for her to see the laptop’s screen. Her eyes mark me with an irritable look as I grab the arm of the chair and pull it closer before she’s had a chance to sit.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” she questions.

Although her voice is serious, her eyes are full of merriment. The visions I’ve tried desperately to forget come back.

I close my eyes and take a breath, but she continues, making me struggle to keep my composure. “Spank me maybe?”

“I’ve thought of nothing more,” I mumble to myself, trying to remain in control.

Without acknowledging what I’m sure she heard me say, Lucy smooths the back of her skirt and sits. Closing the distance even more, she rolls her chair right next to mine. If I turn around, even slightly, I’d probably find her gloating.

“What happened yesterday won’t ever happen again,” I remind her, referring to Jeremy, as I flip through the screens on my laptop. I was too flustered at the time to truly counsel her. If I’m being honest, I was too captivated by her, but I don’t voice that.

“Which part won’t happen again exactly?” she draws out to annoy me.

“All of it,” I clip.

When I turn around to look at her, I’d swear she seems almost as disappointed in hearing it as I am in saying it.

“It won’t,” she assures me, lifting and sorting through the pages of her notepad. “I was wrong.”

“You could’ve cost us a client.”

“I said I was wrong.”

“Or you could’ve done worse damage to Jeremy than has already been done.”

Her jaw ticks and her temples protrude with each grind of her teeth. “Got it, boss. Anything else?”

The term ‘boss’ is meant to irritate me, and it does. That kiss wasn’t anything close to the relationship we’re supposed to engage in.