Page 35 of Dial L for Lawyer
"Do you believe her?" Her loyalty to this girl is a liability. For all I know, Maya is playing her, setting up this Lisa as a fall guy. I watch Serena's face, the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. I need to get her out of here, away from prying eyes, where I can get the full story.
"I do. Lisa's always been passive-aggressive, always made it clear I wasn’t her favorite person. But I didn't think she'd go this far."
"OK. We'll look into her."
She gives me a look that's all fire and exhaustion. Even stressed and betrayed, she's fucking stunning.
"I'm not used to waiting for other people to save me," she says, voice catching. "It's weird, letting you take the lead."
I lean forward, lowering my voice. "If you can relinquish control for even ten seconds, I'll make sure you don't regret it."
She smirks like she expected nothing less. Her lips part, and for a moment I think she'll say what she's really thinking. Instead she exhales softly. "You know, for a relentless egomaniac, you're oddly comforting."
I want to tell her I'd burn the world for her, but I just shrug. "It's a talent."
Her eyes dart to the window. "What now?"
"We play it slow. Let Lisa think she's safe. Meanwhile, we build our case." I check my watch. "And we eat. You hungry?"
"I could eat."
We end up at a small bistro two blocks away, tucked into a quiet booth. The lunch crowd hasn't hit yet, giving us privacy. Serena orders a salad—of course she does—I get the burger, and we spend the next hour dissecting every member of her team along with this morning’s meeting.
She's all nerves at first, picking at lettuce like it's penance, but I catch her watching me. Every time I look up, her eyes dartaway, but not before I see the flush climbing her neck or the way her tongue skims the corner of her mouth. It's torture. It's also proof that under this battered exterior, Serena is still the woman who danced with me until 2 AM and whispered things in my ear that made me want to fuck her right there on the dance floor.
I study her too openly between bites, forcing myself to keep it professional—she's my client, she's in trouble, she should be off limits—but my cock doesn't give a shit about ethics. Every time she leans forward, her dress pulls against her chest, and all I can think about is how she'd feel straddling my face while I eat her like she's my last meal.
She catches a drop of dressing at the corner of her mouth with her tongue, and I have to grip the table edge to keep from leaning across and tasting it myself.
"Do you want to know the settlement terms they offered?" I ask, setting my burger down.
"No. I want my name cleared and my job back."
"Good. I already told them to shove it—the offer was insulting. But I’m obligated to tell you the terms."
"I don't care what they are," she says, pushing her plate away. "It doesn't matter."
"It matters that you know what you're turning down."
"I'm turning down being silenced. I'm turning down letting them win."
Her chin is high, her eyes flashing, and I've never wanted to kiss anyone more. Fuck, she's magnificent when she's ready for a fight.Mymagnificent girl.
She drags her plate closer again and spears lettuce with unnecessary force. "I've worked too hard to let someone destroy me over lies."
"Good. You're handling this better than most clients would."
"I don't feel like I'm handling it well. I feel like I'm drowning."
"Trust me, you're doing fine. Most people would've taken that settlement just to make the stress stop."
She looks up, something shifting in her expression. "Is that your professional opinion, counselor?"
"Among other things."Like my opinion that you're the hottest woman I've ever seen and it's physically painful to not be touching you right now.
The server drops off the check. I reach for my wallet, and Serena starts to protest.
"My treat," I say.
