Page 84 of Souls and Sorrows

“Hillary,” Cash says, his voice low and smooth. “Long time, no chat.”

A woman’s voice comes over the line, laughing lightly. “You are not an easy man to get ahold of.”

Pausing, I turn my head, watching as the tension seems to leave Cash’s body, like melting snow. Envy pricks at my heart, locking me in place. His lips turn up, and his eyes brighten, and even though I can’t see the woman he’s speaking to, it’s clear they have a rapport that goes way back.

“…said you’d advised speaking to an accountant before filing bankruptcy,” the woman says, making him grin.

“Well, I’m not a financial attorney, and John was under the impression that bankruptcy grants immunity from tax crimes. Finding out that is not the case was certainly a tough blow for him.”

My feet ache, as I’m desperate to escape their reminiscence, but I can’t make them move. The air in my lungs becomes concrete, impenetrable, and I grip the door handle tighter to keep myself upright.

“Considering the sheer magnitude of your net worth, I think his head was in the right space,” the woman—Hillary, I guess—continues.

His smile widens, and the wound in my heart grows tenfold. “They have people who are definitely better suited.”

My gaze drifts to the floor, jealousy ripping open old scabs I thought had healed. I wish I knew what they were talking about. A rush of regret stabs at my skull, making me feel like a bitch for never asking what was going on in Cash’s world.

Part of me assumed he wouldn’t be able to discuss it, or maybe I was afraid the answer would bethis. Flirting with women who make him smile.

I’ve not seen him smile like that with me.

When I look back up, Cash’s intense stare greets me. His eyes have darkened back to their usual state as he keeps on with his conversation, though I’ve given up listening at this point.

A small, startled breath puffs from my lips when he lifts a hand, crooking his index finger and curling it inward. Beckoning me.

I don’t know why, but the air seems to shift, suddenly electric and charged, and I can’t resist Cash’s pull.

His expression remains completely neutral as I release the handle and make my way over to him. Slowly.

So slowly that by the time I’m standing beside his desk, he pushes away from it and nods his head at the center.

“Well, look, Cash, I don’t want to waste your time. Basically, the firm here is obviously little more than a start-up, at best, and we’ve got this case that’s sort of beyond our scope of expertise. We were hoping to maybe bring you on as a consult to our current counsel.”

Perching my ass on the edge of the desk, I sit and wait for further instruction. Cash is a foot away, and he strokes his chin, raking his gaze down over me like hot coals.

“It’s possible I could be convinced,” he says to the other woman, though he doesn’t look away. “But what’s in it for me?”

My eyes narrow, the suggestion in his tone burning a hole in my stomach. It’s obviously for me, but I hate that he’s letting her hear it at all.

Tossing my hair over one shoulder, I lean back on my palms and let my legs fall open a bit. The dress, a tight little white number, inches up my thighs, and I push my tongue against my cheek as his attention dips.

Cool air sweeps in, brushing the lacy pink fabric of my thong, and goose bumps collect on my skin as a chill skates over me.

Behind Cash, the windows overlooking downtown Boston are wide open. We’re several floors up, but anyone in an adjacent building at the same level might be able to see.

Not to mention, the entire interior of his office, with the exception of one wall, is made of glass, and Zephyr, or another attorney, or even the firm’s managing partner could walk past anytime.

The acknowledgment of that sends a little thrill through me, and I swallow the sensation, pushing my thighs farther apart.

His jaw thumps with a tic, and he rolls his chair forward a little.

“We’re willing to negotiate commission rates,” Hillary tells him. “Though, like I said, we’re still in our start-up phase, so we don’t exactly have the same overhead as Cupid does.”

I slide a hand down the front of my neck, dropping my head back and relishing in the stretch. Gliding down, I rove over my breasts, giving a light squeeze that draws a small, breathless sound from my throat. My nipples harden beneath the motion, and I feel Cash’s palms come down on the desk, just outside of me.

Close enough so that I feel his warmth, but not enough to touch.

Not yet anyway.

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