Page 126 of A Legal Affair
As he continued his trek across campus, he fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Instagram. His thumb hovered over the screen, hesitation rippling through his chest.
Shortly after he ended things with Daniela, he’d gotten drunk one night and looked her up on Instagram—her real account under her real name, not that sterile facsimile she’d tried to passoff as authentic. That fake ass page had tweaked his lizard brain and seriously put him on edge. It should have been his first clue that something was off about her, but he was too far gone, too caught up, too pussy-whipped, tooeverything, to heed the warning bells clanging in his head.
The moment he clicked on Daniela Roarke’s page and began scrolling, it had been like stepping through a portal and into the dazzling orbit of the woman he’d fallen head over heels for.
“There you are,” he’d whispered to his phone that night.
There were hundreds of pictures of Daniela at work conferences, car shows, wine tastings, music festivals. Spending a summer abroad in Spain. Trawling through antique shops and flea markets. Mugging for the camera at Paris Fashion Week, her arm curved around the waist of a hazel-eyed beauty nicknamed Kenn.
There were fashion shots. Shoe haul videos. Foodie porn. She’d dedicated an entire post to her love of coffee with ice cream, and he’d almost liked the picture before he remembered he was supposed to be lurking incognito.
He saw photos of her beautiful mother, brothers, cousins, aunts and uncles—all the people she couldn’t show him while she was pretending to be someone else.
There was an old appreciation post praising Brandon’s brilliance after he debated a white nationalist on a popular podcast. He’d dismantled the motherfucker with surgical precision, a brutal takedown that went globally viral.
There were thirst traps, but not as many as Caleb had feared. One picture showed Daniela leaning back in an office chair with her feet propped up on a desk, displaying the red soles of her high heels. She had her hair up, leaving a few curls loose to frame her face and caress her neck. She wore a pair of naughty-librarian glasses, a tight black skirt and a silky white blouse unbuttoned low enough to reveal mouthwatering cleavagespilling out of a red lace bra. She was staring seductively into the camera while twirling a long curl around her finger, full red lips wrapped around a lollipop. The photo had racked up thousands of likes and shares, and far too many lewd comments from thirsty simps and pervs. Caleb read them all, every last one, gnashing his teeth and gripping his phone with tight knuckles.
From what he could glean from her cousin’s comment (“Yasss hunty!!! Now that’s how you clear a bitch!”) and a few others, Daniela had apparently posted the picture after a nasty breakup. It was a diabolical middle finger to the braindead asshole who’d been dumb enough to cheat on her.
Unable to resist, and mad as hell about it, Caleb had sullenly saved the revenge pic to his phone, along with several others that would fuel his fantasies for years to come.
He saw now that Daniela hadn’t posted in two weeks. He wondered if she would share photos from her girls’ trip. In his younger, wilder days he’d visited some of the hottest nightclubs in Greece, partying and fucking his way through scores of beautiful strangers. The thought of Daniela having just one fling made him want to burn shit to the ground.
He scowled, as disgusted with the direction of his thoughts as he was by his physical weakness. Why couldn’t he stop obsessing over her? He didn’t want her back, so why couldn’t he just let her go?
Shoving his phone into his back pocket, he reached the law faculty building just as Shara came walking out the door. Her steps slowed, and their eyes met. When he nodded curtly, she responded with a wistful smile.
He started past her and she grabbed his arm. Her eyes were full of entreaty as she gazed up at him.
“Can we talk?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Caleb, please?—”
“We have nothing to talk about. Now if you’ll excuse me?—”
“I miss you,” she blurted out before he could keep walking. “I miss your friendship. I miss your smile and your laughter. I miss our shop talk, our coffee dates, our private jokes during tedious faculty meetings. I miss watching you work your magic with my son. And yes, Caleb, if I’m being honest, I miss looking forward to having you back in my bed. We were good together that week, and I will always be grateful to you for being a far better lover than my ex-husband ever was.”
Caleb frowned. “Shara?—”
“I was talking to my sister the other day. She asked about you, and was disappointed to hear that we’re no longer friends. She blames me, of course. She reminded me of the times you covered my class when Devon was sick. The times you edited my articles and used your connections to get me published. The times you went to bat for me against certain colleagues who tried to sabotage my work.” Her tone softened. “You’ve always been there for me, Caleb. Even though I didn’t approve of your recent indiscretion, you deserved my loyalty, and I deeply regret withholding it from you.”
Jaw clenched, Caleb reached over and calmly removed her hand from his arm.
“Caleb—”
His eyes snapped back to her face. “When I told you we were done, I meant it.”
Her chin quivered. “But?—”
A familiar bark of laughter turned their heads as Evander emerged from the building, his phone to his ear. He took one look at them and raised his eyebrows above his sunglasses, then murmured into the phone, “See you soon, baby.”
Ending the call, he wandered over to them, slowly removing his shades. “What’s up? Did I miss an invite to the black law faculty meeting?”
Neither Caleb nor Shara cracked a smile.
“Damn. Tough crowd.” Evander chuckled. “Speaking of our little club, I heard they just hired someone new. A sista with mad impressive credentials.”
