No he won’t. Big bro has something to prove and he’ll do it alone or die trying. Miles doesn’t suspect as much and leaves. Now, it’s just the three of us. One too many, if you ask me.
Tess resumes her typing. Declan his legal blubbering. Me, I’m back to eyeing that one-night hookup I broke the bed with.
She leans forward, tucking her hand against her face so her blond hair falls in soft waves. That’s different, too. One length, down to her shoulders, not like that pin-straight haircut that never made it past her chin and bangs so straight I could have used the edge as a lever.
There’s something else, too….She squirms in place under the weight of my scrutiny, adjusting her— That’s it: the glasses. They’re not those giant Harry Potter–looking pieces of crap. They’re little, square, and yeah, kind of hot.
“Curran?”
Aw, hell. I look up at Declan. “Wassup?”
“Contessa has to pick up some paperwork the judge just signed. My detectives are tied up at the moment. I asked if you could accompany her courtside?” he snaps, his jaw clenched so tight, I’m sure he’ll crack a molar.
“Oh, yeah. I’m on it.”
Tess leaps to her feet. “I have to close out my files and shut down my computer first. It’s late, and I left it on. I’ll be right back.” She rushes away, slamming her knee into the chair. I reach to steady her, but she jumps like I burned her and plows into the wall. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m—I’ll be right back.”
She tears out of the room, slamming the door behind her and working that ass like—
“Did you fuck my intern?” Declan growls.
I glance back at him as he looms over his desk. “Just a little,” I admit.
Tess
Argyles. He called me Argyles. That’s the same nickname he gave me the morning after we, we…
I slap my hand over my head. Oh, my God, I need to get out of this. I need to get out of this now!
My urgent steps slow as the reality of my situation becomes abundantly clear: I can’t give up my opportunity to work with Declan. I can’t refuse police surveillance. I can’t request another police officer this soon. And there’s no escaping Curran O’Brien.
But then there never was, was there?
I lean against the wall and start flipping through the notes I took on my iPad.
I groan. Who am I kidding? My mind isn’t on work, it’s on Curran, just like it was from the first moment I saw him.
As rush chair of Kappa Omega Kappa, notoriously known as KOK, Curran was loud, obnoxious, and perpetually surrounded by girls who found him oh so charming and laughed at everything that came out of his mouth. I roll my eyes, remembering their constant giggling and overt flirting.
Oh, Curran. You’re so cute.
Oh, Curran. You’re so funny.
Oh, Curran, you’re such a nice KOK.
I stare at my screen, recognizing that I was one of those girls taken by his wit, his smile, and his striking looks. But I never expected him to notice me. Not with all the pretty girls in my sorority cozying up to him, and not when my eating disorder had left me so painfully thin. God, I was so unhealthy then, my hair so fine I couldn’t grow it out, and nails so brittle I had to keep them short. Throw in my dorky wardrobe and an awkwardness I never fully outgrew and, well, I never thought Curran would look my way.
Yet eventually he did, making me feel like I mattered.