The Lawyer by Charlotte E Hart
Chapter Sixteen
WILLOW
Ican’t remember the last time I woke up in a guy's bed.
My eyes open, and I remain still, not wanting to break the illusion of slumber just yet. If I’m honest, I’m in shock that Landon didn’t kick me out. As exhausted and sated as I was, I’d have put money on him asking me to leave just like he left mine last week. Same thing with the way he shoved me out of the office the time before that. There’s no real affection between us, just sex. Although, for me, there’s something between us that is more than physical. We’ve just refused to acknowledge it because the situation is complicated enough being just sex.
Staying over blurs the lines we’ve drawn even further.
He got quiet pretty quick after we screwed, and with the secrets I’ve kept from him, I’m anxious that he’ll find out and not allow me to explain.
With the nerves fluttering in my stomach, I turn over to face him only to find an empty space in the bed next to me. I roll over and let my arms splay out wide in the empty bed. I couldn’t even say if he spent the night with me or crept out ten minutes after I’d fallen asleep. Is this more or less awkward than just leaving after the deed?
I slip from the relative safety of the fluffy duvet and into the bathroom, refusing to start imagining where I’d put everything if I lived here. Hard to do considering the man I've just slept with and where I am, but I need to keep reality at the forefront of my mind.
After taking care of business and getting dressed, the only thing that's left is finding Landon. The apartment is eerily quiet when I get downstairs, and for a moment, I wonder if he simply left me here alone, but as I peer around the kitchen, I find him sitting at the table with a coffee, and his tablet, in hand.
“Hey,” I offer.
“Morning.”
He doesn’t look up. His face is locked in concentration, and the dismissive tone takes me back to the first few times we met. My mind races to conclusions about what I’ve done wrong or that he’s finally bored. He didn’t have any problems communicating after the previous times we slept together, but that could be my paranoia or guilt talking. And I did turn him down last night. Perhaps he only wanted sex, and me standing up and saying no to anal has dented his ego? At least that's an easier reason than what it could be. My tattoo would have been visible last night, and as much as I fought to hide it, maybe he recognised it and put it all together.
The nerves from earlier turn to a lead weight in my stomach. My tongue feels dry in my mouth, and my palms are clammy. All this time just standing before him, waiting for one of us to talk, but lost as to what to say.
He moves suddenly, making me jump.
“I have to get to the office. You need to go home and change. I’ll see you at work.” He doesn’t even look me in the eye, just walks past me, dismissing me like the expert he’s become at that particular manoeuvre.
Well, if he's going to play the arsehole, then fine.
I can’t quite let it go, and I worry about it over and over as I leave and head home to change. I try to find a logical and less incriminating reason for his behaviour, but it’s wishful, stupid thinking, and I know it. My heart might be conjuring imaginary plans, but my head is the realist—Landon will never consider a serious relationship with either Willow or Juniper.
With the detour home and then back to the office, I'm running late. Despite Landon knowing this, I send him a quick text. Nothing comes back. And by the time I arrive, our usual morning meeting has come and gone, so I make him his coffee and take it right in.
As I walk across to his desk, he keeps his eyes focused on his work. “Can I get you anything else? Or perhaps we can go over the policy updates I’ve collated. They’ll need to go to HR, but─”
“Just email them,” he murmurs.
I nod, even though he can’t see, and turn to leave.
The sting of his words is more painful than I expect. I thought we’d moved past that and even shared a connection that was more than professional courtesy. It was something meaningful, at least on my behalf, and now all I can see is that crumbling away because I slept with him. Or because I lied to him.
Either way, last night is turning out to be a big mistake.
No matter how hard I try to concentrate, all I can do is stare at the door to his office. I want to march back in there and tell him he should apologise, or tell him that I’m sorry, or come clean. Hell, I might as well admit that I have feelings for him and that sleeping with him has turned my world upside down while I’m at it. But I don’t, because any of those things will surely make this worse.
“Willow, come in here,” his voice snaps over the intercom.
My feet skitter across the floor as I rush to answer him. I’m so nervous I even knock on the door. Ironic, considering I haven't done that in weeks.
As I walk in, my heart skips and panic starts to twist in my gut. He’s pacing in his office, striding back and forth, his hands in his pockets and his shirt sleeves rolled up. Annoyingly sexy, but not important right now.
“Let's discuss your name. What is it this morning?” He doesn’t stop walking, and thankfully he doesn’t look me in the eye either. He knows. Of course, he knows.
“I’m Willow Etherington,” I reply shakily.
“Willow Etherington, also known as Juniper,” he replies in challenge. This time he’s stopped right in front of me, crowding me and waiting for my answer.
“Well, it seems you already know.” I push the words out, feeling trapped by my own lie of omission.
“What the fuck, Willow!”
He runs his hands through his hair, walks towards his desk and leans his hands on it, his back to me. A huge part of me wants to offer comfort, to plead my sorrow for lying, but instead, my feet are glued to position, preventing me from moving.
“You screwed me over. All this time?” he seethes. His anger catches in his words, but still, I can’t find anything to say in response. What is there? “And the night when Ash was arrested? You could have told me everything then, but you let me believe … Jesus Christ, that outfit. I was fucking jealous, and you were wearing it for me all along.” His words slay me, breaking down any pretence I might have had. All I feel is guilt and regret, muddled together.
“Things got complicated, Landon. I’m sorry,” I start, but my voice sounds fragile and weak.
“Understatement, Willow. Fucking hell. How many others?”
“What?” I ask, not keeping up with him. He’s back to pacing the office, and my eyes obediently follow him.
“How many others do you dance for? Actually, I don’t want to know.” He picks up a paperweight on one of the shelves at the far end of his office and hurls it at the wall. My whole frame jumps at the fury, and I watch as it dents the wall with a dull thud before cracking on the floor.
“Only you, Landon. I’ve never done that for anyone else.” It’s the truth. But right now, the truth is in short supply.
He turns and paces towards me, the same furious glare in place as the paperweight just got. My feet back up until I hit the door. “You know how pathetic that sounds—such a cliché. You’re the only one. I’ve watched you dance for months, Juniper.” He sneers as he says my name, disdain dripping from the word as if it’s poison to him now. “As has every other fucking man in that place.”
“It’s the truth.” I stand tall, holding onto what I can in this argument, including the solid breadth of the door behind me. “You're the first I’ve ever seen outside of The Priory.”
I don't know whether that sinks in or not, but something about his face changes. I can only hope it's enough for him to calm down.
He shakes his head, after staring at me, and backs away to lean on his desk. “However you plead this, you lied to me, and now I can’t trust you.”
“I only lied about this. Nothing else, and that was to protect myself from this reaction."
“I don’t fucking care. You can’t work for me. A stripper can’t work for me.” It’s clear how he really feels about what I do, for his benefit, in his terse tone. “It's bad enough that you do what you do, but to dare come into my fucking office after you've done it, pretending you're something you're clearly not, and attempt playing with me, your boss, is so fucking unacceptable, I can't even begin to quantify my contempt.”
If he was looking for a way to hurt me, he just found it.
My head lowers, the thought of his disgust rattling what little nerve I have left.
“Get your things. You'll leave immediately.”
My head flies up. “You’re firing me?” The shock is easy to hear. Although, I shouldn’t be shocked. I knew this would be a possibility. It’s part of the reason I didn’t tell him in the first place.
He narrows his glare at me, and that confirms it, but all I can see is his bruised ego, and I’m not taking that. No matter how much I might be in the wrong.
“Well, fuck you. You wanted to fuck me and Juniper. You got it. You don’t get everything on your terms.” My feet finally cooperate and walk me towards him, and I don’t stop until we’re face to face.
“Every fucking thing is on my terms,” he counters. “Especially when it comes to my company. Get out.”
Despite the anger, there’s that fiery connection between us drawing us together like there has been since we met. I stall in place, part needing him, part hating his guts at the moment.
“You can’t do this to me, Landon. I’ve done nothing wrong, and you know it. You’ve got what you wanted. You fucked us both. You can take your contempt and shove it up your arse.”
I watch for his reaction, seeking anything from his cold, blue eyes.
“Careful, Willow. Don’t push me. You won’t like what happens. Leave.” He draws out the last word, but still, I stand firm.
“No.” I snap. I break the build-up of tension between us and step away. “If you fire me, that’s it. I’ll go to the press about your dirty little secret. You think the previous article stirred up trouble, just you wait.”
The moment it’s out of my mouth, I regret it. It's a bluff, and I’ll never follow through, but I'm hoping he doesn't know that. He’s pushing all my buttons, and I need him to slow down and think things over rather than show his temper as a default reaction.
I take a deep breath and turn back, watching him. How we’d ever learn to work in a professional way after this, I don’t know, but that's for another day. Right now, I have a job to save.
He doesn’t break eye contact, and I feel myself weakening under his torrid gaze. He's still furious, still bruised, and still as likely to throw something else in a fit of rage.
“I’m going to take the rest of the week off. I don’t think either of us are thinking clearly.” The shock on his face is the first relief from the insane pressure, and I take a little sigh of gratitude for the break. “I’ll arrange someone to cover for me. But this isn’t over, Landon. You won’t fire me, and you won’t work your magic on my contract either. If you even try it, I'll come down so hard on you, you won’t know what's hit you.” I smooth down the front of my jacket and pull on the hem. "I’ll see you on Monday.”
“You can’t walk out like this. I refuse to—”
“Watch me.” I turn and leave.
And I don’t collapse until I get to the other side of the door and slam it in his face.