Page 45 of Dial L for Lawyer
"You love anything in a skirt," Logan mutters.
"Not true. I'm very particular. I only like women who are completely unattainable or wildly inappropriate." He gestures at me. "Like Caleb here with his whole 'falling for the client' situation."
"She wasn't my client when I fell for her," I point out.
"Details." Dominic waves dismissively. "The point is, you're all sitting in Bennett's office plotting romance and revenge like we're in a fucking Shakespeare play."
"Why are we in my office, actually?" Bennett asks, looking at me.
I grimace. "Because if the other partners knew I was doing this much pro bono work for a woman I'm trying to sleep with, they'd have my balls in a vice."
"Trying to sleep with?" Dominic sets his empty glass on the table. "This is a lot of effort just to get your dick wet, my man."
"No, it's—" I run a hand through my hair. "It's more than that."
"Obviously," Logan says. "You don't pine for six months over someone you just want to fuck."
"Exactly," Bennett agrees. "Which is why you can't screw this up tonight."
"No pressure though," Dominic adds cheerfully. "Just your entire future happiness riding on one dinner."
"You're all assholes."
"Yes, but we're your assholes," Dominic says, pouring another finger of scotch and raising his glass. "To Caleb finally getting his shit together."
"To Serena not running away this time," Bennett adds.
"To me finding something illegal enough to destroy whoever framed her," Logan contributes.
They all look at me expectantly.
"To not fucking this up," I say finally, and we drink.Please God, don't let me fuck this up.
"Now," Dominic sets his glass back down, all business. "Let's discuss what you're wearing tonight. Because if you show up in another gray suit, I'm disowning you."
"Not all my suits are gray."
"All of your suits suck, though," he says. "Bennett, tell him."
"Don't look at me. Layla influences my wardrobe choices now."
"Whipped," Logan coughs.
"Happily," Bennett agrees.
“There is nothing wrong with my suits,” I insist, checking my watch.
Two hours until dinner. Two hours until I get her across from me again, close enough to touch. Two hours until I prove she’s mine. And if anyone or anything gets in the way this time, I’ll level the whole damn city.
"I should go," I say, standing.
"God, you want to impress her so badly it's almost cute," Dominic says. "You should make her a mixtape. Or write her a sonnet."
"Fuck off," I say, but the image of presenting Serena with either is so unhinged I almost want to do it just for the look on her face.
"Text if you need backup," Bennett adds.
"Or if you need someone to run interference," Logan offers. "I can crash the restaurant's system, create a distraction."
