Blind Devotion Page 5

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t’ve pushed.”

  Because there wasn’t anything more to be said, I opened the front door and crossed my arms over my chest. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” Before he disappeared, though, he leaned in and brushed his lips over my cheek, whispering, “I’m sorry,” before pulling back.

  I knew Chris wouldn’t hurt me, and I couldn’t blame him for attempting to convince me to share myself with him, but he went about it the wrong way.

  Max

  “I NEED TO make sure she’s not hiding anything. Just get it done!” Slamming the phone did nothing to ease the annoyance pumping through my veins. I’d been assigned to a client a few days prior, a Hollywood diva, and it was taking everything in me not to tell the partners to shove the case up their asses.

  The whole idea of fighting for your client blindly, not caring if they were truthful, was utter bullshit. I needed to know everything about them, whether or not they were lying to me. Otherwise, I couldn’t do my job properly. It was the reason I’d hired a private investigator. Albert, the same guy I’d worked with on numerous occasions when I lived in California. He was certainly skilled, but there were times, like now, when he drove me nuts. He was a huge fan of Amber Sotter, my current client, so I had to remind him to separate the fan-girl inside him and do his goddamn job.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Colter. But Mrs. Sotter is on the phone, and she insists on speaking to you.” Speak of the devil. My secretary, Linda, was standing in the doorway, an apprehensive look stealing her expression. I was positive it had everything to do with the pissed-off look on my face.

  Linda was in her late fifties, if I had to guess, and she’d come highly recommended. Strictly professional thus far, which was a huge bonus because I had no patience for flirting and inappropriate behavior. On their part, not mine.

  “Tell her I’ll call her back in ten minutes.” Linda gave a curt nod before exiting my office, quietly shutting the door behind her.

  Throwing myself back into clearing off my desk, there was a knock on my door not two minutes later. Huffing, I picked my head up in time to see Curtis Donn enter, one of the managing partners of Winthrop, Krueger, and Donn.

  “How are you getting on?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorframe, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, when I knew the opposite was true. The firm was always under scrutiny, based solely on the clients they represented. If the client was dirty, then so was their lawyer, right? Not necessarily so. I’d dealt with some shady-ass people during my career, but I was always by the book.

  Curtis was the youngest of the three managing partners, putting him in his late fifties. He was a stocky man standing at almost six foot with dark cropped hair. I didn’t know much about his personal life other than he’d been married for twenty-seven years and had three daughters.

  “I’m getting there,” I answered. “Now if I could only find Sotter’s file, I’d be all dandy.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that one. I hate to pawn her off on you but based on your expertise with these proceedings, you were the best man for the job.” He smirked, and I narrowed my eyes. I had no reason not to trust Curtis, and I’d put in my dues, of course, but if I kept receiving clients like Amber Sotter, I was going to have a real problem.

  I knew how lucky I was to have a job at their firm, the largest on the east coast. Most lawyers would kill for my position, but it didn’t mean I’d roll over and take every shit case they didn’t want to deal with themselves.

  I’d owned my own practice back in California, but after the divorce, I moved to change things up a little. While I enjoyed being the boss before, there was something to be said about letting someone else make all the big decisions.

  He knocked twice on the doorframe, finishing his visit with “Well, let us know if you need anything.” A raise of his brows and a cluck of his tongue and he was gone, but only five minutes of semipeace passed before there was another person at my door.

  “I figured if you were able to call me back in ten minutes, then there wasn’t any reason why you couldn’t see me in person.” A southern twang curled around some of her words, and I knew exactly who was interrupting me, unannounced, before I even picked up my head.

  Amber Sotter.

  Hollywood’s biggest pain in the ass.

  Linda stood in the doorway, mouthing, “Sorry,” before closing the door.

  “Please come in, Mrs. Sotter.” I stood and gestured toward the chair in front of my desk. Instead of adhering, she sauntered toward the leather couch on the other side of the room, planting her curvy ass as if we weren’t strangers. Sure, she was my client, but we’d never met before.

  “Please call me Amber. Besides, I won’t be Sotter too much longer, hopefully.” She pursed her lips and gave me a brazen wink. “You’re quite the handsome devil, aren’t you? Any chance of an after-hours meeting?” She slowly crossed her legs, most likely doing her best impression of Sharon Stone’s infamous scene in Basic Instinct.

  She was beautiful, her long dark hair brushing just past her tits. Her long legs went on for what seemed like forever, accompanied by a plump ass and a small waist, but she wasn’t my type. And even if she was, her reputation preceded her, and there was no way I would ever get tangled up with the likes of her.

  “Let me stop you right there. I don’t fraternize with my clients. Ever. So any thoughts you have . . . get rid of them.” I walked around to the front of my desk, sat on the edge and gave her an annoyed look before crossing my legs at the ankles.

  “Feisty, too,” she purred, licking her lips before running her fingers up and down her leg, doing her best to draw my attention there, but I kept my eyes on her face, my patience wearing thin. “Oh fine,” she conceded. “You win.”

  “I’m not winning anything. I’m your lawyer, and as such, I’m here to represent you to the best of my ability.” Pushing off the desk, I walked back toward my seat and sat down, inhaling a choppy breath before making eye contact with her once more. “Now, what can I do for you?”

  Alina

  WHERE IS HE?

  Checking my phone to see if Chris had sent me another text, I crossed and uncrossed my legs three times. I’d agreed to have lunch with him, to allow him a chance to apologize yet again for the way he acted the other night. I’d already forgiven him but had let him stew.

  A bit of guilt was good for the soul.

  I’d recently returned from running a few errands and, instead of traveling up to my office only to come back down to the lobby again, I tried my best to get comfortable on the sofa while I waited for Chris. I swiped the unlock screen on my cell and found his number. Before I hit the green call button, however, I heard a deep rumbling voice, a chilling timbre of rasp.

  I knew it was inevitable Max and I would run into each other, seeing as how we both worked at my father’s firm. And while I’d secretly fantasized about the encounter, I’d also fretted the interaction as well.

  When I dared to pick my head up, I saw Max striding toward the exit, a gorgeous woman walking next to him, pawing at him the entire time. She was none other than Amber Sotter, a well-known actress and someone who had a reputation for being a diva. A sudden agitation overtook, my reaction instantly worrying me. I lowered my head so I wouldn’t have to witness the sight of them together.

  I wasn’t a jealous woman, not by any means, but the sight of them together irritated me.

  I hardly knew Max, yet an unwelcome sense of possessiveness swirled through me, adrenaline thickening my blood with the quick beats of my heart. I had absolutely no right to feel anything toward him, but I did just the same. Silently chastising myself, I never heard him approach, wasn’t even aware he was standing in front of me until the tips of his shiny black dress shoes came into view.

  Maybe my sudden fascination with Maxton Colter was only because I needed someone to focus on, someone to help distract me from everything else going on in my life.

  “Alina.” His voice
caressed my eardrum with the promise of something torrid. “How nice to see you again.” I almost choked mid-swallow, the muscles of my throat threatening to seize at any moment.

  Taking a deep breath, I slowly picked my head up, my eyes traveling the length of him, appreciating the way he wore his designer suit. The way the material draped over his body, tailored to fit the perfect physique I was positive was underneath. Higher still, his face came into view, first the square of his jaw, then the plump of his lips. I knew I had to compose myself before staring into his sinful brown eyes.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, reaching down to touch my shoulder. I moved at the last second, and he pulled back, scrunching his brows at my reaction. A flush swept over my skin, and I knew if I didn’t get my shit together, and soon, I’d make a fool of myself.

  “Yes. Sorry. Just distracted is all.”

  “By me?” The quirk of his lips formed a smile.

  “You’re so full of yourself, aren’t you?” I repaid in kind, the small banter doing wonders for my sudden nerves.

  “Not all the time.” He moved and took the seat to my right, sitting so close his shoulder brushed mine, the heat from his thigh unsettling me.

  What is wrong with me?

  With my legs together and my hands resting on top of my thighs, I fiddled with the hem of my dress, desperately needing something else to focus on other than Max’s close proximity. Was anyone watching us? Taking a quick look around, I deemed we were safe, no prying eyes on the inappropriate closeness.

  When I finally stole a glance at him, he smiled. It seemed sincere, as if he was pleased to be sitting next to me.

  “I forgot you worked here,” I lied, smoothing down the absent wrinkles of my dress, mindlessly sliding my palms back and forth.

  “No, you didn’t, but that’s okay. I get it.” A swirl of cockiness lifted his words, catching my full attention and turning my body fully toward his.

  “You get what?”

  “That you’re sitting in the lobby, hoping to catch a glimpse of me. You wouldn’t find out where my office was because that would make it too obvious.” I couldn’t determine if he was playing with me or not, the mischievous glint in his eyes made it difficult to tell.

  “Are you serious?” I widened my eyes in disbelief but relaxed when he full-on laughed, his sexy dimple making an appearance. Shaking his head, he bumped his shoulder against mine, moving me ever so slightly.

  “I’m not serious, Alina. How much of an ass do you really think I am? Wait, don’t answer that.”

  It was my turn to laugh.

  “Are you waiting for Chris?” Oh, thank God, a neutral topic, one that reminded us both I was engaged to be married, because another minute in his presence and there was no telling what would’ve come out of my mouth. Or his.

  “Yes. I’m meeting him for lunch.”

  Max abruptly stood and extended his palm toward me. I knew if I accepted the gesture, I’d have a hard time letting go, so I stood on my own and stepped off to the side. Even with a few feet between us, his presence was still muddling my brain.

  It wasn’t like me to fidget, but I couldn’t help myself. I shifted my purse from one shoulder to the other, looked at the floor, and then around the lobby, then back to the floor. Anything to avoid staring at his face. The problem was, he knew I was nervous and I had a feeling he enjoyed my unease.

  “Come on,” he finally said, breaking the building tension cutting around us. “You can wait for him in my office.”

  “What? No, I’m okay. I’ll just stay here.”

  “Nonsense. I don’t have another meeting for an hour.” He placed his hand on the small of my back, the warmth of his palm igniting me, and guided me toward the elevator. “It’s pointless for you to wait down here when you can keep me company. Besides, I’m bored, and I think you’ll be the perfect distraction.”

  Max

  WHAT WAS I doing? Playing a very dangerous game, that’s what. Even though all my instincts told me to walk away as soon as I’d stolen a glimpse of her sitting in the lobby, I doused my inner voice in fuel and set that bastard on fire.

  I’d walked toward her as if my legs had a mind of their own, our entire conversation that followed completely unplanned. Words just came out of my mouth, some of them in jest, some not, although I played as if they were. I wanted to believe she was there waiting for me, but I knew better. She was there waiting on Harris. Lucky bastard.

  Speaking of . . .

  “Did you finally give it up?”

  Her head whipped in my direction, the look of shock a delight for me. “Wh . . . what?”

  “You heard me. Did you finally put ol’ Chrissy boy out of his misery?”

  Thankfully the elevator hadn’t made any stops, its steady ascent allowing me time to rile her before our final destination.

  Alina made some sort of half grunt, half moan sound as she spun to face forward.

  Speechless, that was what I’d rendered her.

  Until she wasn’t.

  “You have some balls on you, buddy,” she chastised, the swell of her chest stretching the fabric of her gray dress.

  “How did you know?”

  “Ugh . . . you’re beyond frustrating, you know that?

  “I do.”

  Several seconds of silence passed, the only sounds apparent were the swallow breaths of the frustrated woman standing next to me.

  Finally deciding she had something else to say, Alina gave me her attention once more, but when she looked up at my hair, she laughed.

  Instinctually, my fingers ran over the strands in an attempt to fix whatever it was she found so funny.

  “Stop,” she instructed. “You’re only making it worse.” She batted my hand away and with the gentlest touch, played with a lock of my hair. Her fingernails glided over my scalp, and I swore I released a moan, my lids closing briefly to revel in the feeling.

  She stepped closer, her chest pressing against mine as she stood on her tip-toes. The concentration on her face was amusing, the tip of her tongue sneaking out to wet her lips, her eyes narrowing briefly as she continued finishing her task.

  “I have a bad habit of running my hands through my hair, and sometimes it gets crazy.”

  “Maybe you should find a different habit then.”

  “I can think of something,” I teased, leaving my cryptic statement out there for her to interpret however she wanted.

  “I’m sure you can.” She shook her head. “There, all better.”

  “So I look presentable?”

  “Very.” She swallowed. “I mean you look good. I mean fine. Ba . . . back to normal.” Flustered was a good look on her. I stayed still when her fingertip feathered over the small scar on my chin. “How did this happen?”

  It was my turn to be flustered, her subtle touch causing my heart to kick into overdrive. While I showed no outward signs of nerves, I was bombarded with the need to pull her close and ravage her. Images of undressing her and licking every inch of her rushed forward, but instead of losing myself to my thoughts, I answered her question.

  “It’s kind of embarrassing,” I revealed.

  “Oh, now you definitely have to tell me.” The expectant look she flashed made me want to reveal all things personal, purge all my secrets if only she’d continue to look at me like that.

  “When I was about ten, my brother, Hal, and I were playing G.I. Joe. At some point I thought it would be cool to dive over some bushes in our backyard, not realizing there were rocks on the other side. Anyway, I landed face-first, and one of the more jagged ones cut my chin.”

  “Oh no.” She stifled a laugh while her brows furrowed in slight worry for the ten-year-old me. “You’re lucky nothing worse happened.”

  “True. But girls dig scars, right?”

  “I suppose so,” she appeased, taking a step back when she realized she was still standing so close. “You don’t still play G.I. Joe, do you?”

  “I think I’m a little too old, don’t you?
”

  She cocked her head. “I’m not sure, how old are you?”

  “I’m thirty-four. And now that you know how old I am, what about you?”

  “What about me?” she deflected, all the while a beautiful smile played on her lips.

  “How old are you? And before you ask, no, I won’t guess. I’m not that stupid.”

  She laughed. “I’m twenty-nine.”

  “Hmm, I would’ve thought you were twenty-five,” I complimented, winking when she pursed her lips.

  “Well played,” she amused.

  When the elevator finally came to a stop, I guided Alina from the car and down the long hallway, my hand resting on the middle of her back until other people came into view. I dropped my arm to my side, realizing I had to engage some sort of propriety in the office. I itched to touch her again, but I swore if I did I’d invite unnecessary gossip.

  Silence engulfed us both with every step we took, our hands bumping a few times as we walked. I wouldn’t lie and say every time was an accident, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  I kept my eyes straight ahead as soon as I saw Linda. Guilty conscience about physically being so close to another man’s fiancée and all, the last thing I needed was a judgy look from my secretary. I had no reason to believe Linda would react in such a way, surely having heard about Alina’s recent engagement to another member of the firm, but like I said . . . guilty conscience.

  “Hi, Linda,” Alina greeted, stopping momentarily and giving my secretary all her attention. Oddly, I was a little jealous, wanting to hoard as much of Alina’s time as I could before she’d eventually leave to meet Harris. Without missing a stride, I continued to walk ahead, making sure to leave my office door wide open.

  Two minutes passed before Alina waltzed into my office, a gentle smile gracing her delectable lips.

  “How do you know Linda?”

  “Even though the firm is large, I know almost everyone who works here,” she replied, setting her purse on top of my desk.

  “You’re that social, huh?” I teased, walking around her to take a seat on the sofa. I watched her intently. Every inhale of air, every blink, every anxious lick of her lips. While she perused the space, I took the time to openly gawk at her.