I sat down and pulled out the top drawer in his desk. It was just pens and the ubiquitous pink ribbons. I pulled out the next drawer and found a collection of folded shirts, wrapped in tissue paper. All white. Why hadn’t he taken these home? The next drawer was the same.
I spun the chair around and spotted a large plastic carrier bag. Had he been shopping? I crouched down to see what he’d bought. Rumpled shirts clearly waiting to be taken to the dry cleaners. Well, that was something I could do. Craig had said I should do anything to help Knightley out, and he did seem to have a shirt obsession. Maybe he’d let me on his computer if I took care of his dry cleaning? It was unlikely, but it might be the first step. I resisted the urge to bury my nose in his shirts just to smell that scent of leather and wood that I’d taken in on the train. I picked up the bag and, careful not to knock any of the stacks of paper over, made my way out of his office, shutting the door behind me.
I waited for Knightley to come back into chambers so I could be sure I wouldn’t run into him with his bag of dry cleaning, then pulled on my jacket and headed out. Jimmy had told me that all the barristers, including Knightley, had accounts with a particular dry cleaners, which was perfect, since I couldn’t afford to pay for this on top of a new phone, which reminded me. I had Knightley’s business card in my coat pocket. That would tell me his first name. I stopped on the path and pulled out the card. What would his name be? Something poetic and British.
I scanned the card. A? His name was just printed as A. Knightley. Who in the hell didn’t put their fucking name on their own business card? I stuffed the card back in my pocket and picked up my pace. It was as if A-fucking-Knightley was trying to be difficult. Well, it wouldn’t work. The handsome genius with a potential personality disorder had intrigued me. Now, I wanted to beat him. I would succeed where no one else had ever come close. I needed this job. I wanted to be good at something other than taking orders and dodging grabby hands. And the dry cleaning might be my way in.
Five
Alexander
“Come in,” I barked, unused to being interrupted so often in a single week.
The door opened and I continued with my work, but when no one said anything, I glanced up to find Miss King taking my coat from the back of my office door. “What are you doing?” I couldn’t help but run my glance down her legs, up to her perfect arse. When was the last time I noticed a woman in the office? When was the last time I noticed a woman?
She didn’t turn around. Instead she just heaved as she hooked a bunch of cellophane-wrapped dry cleaning on the back of the door. “I had your shirts laundered.”
What? “How did you get them in the first place?”
“I came into your office while you were out and found them.” She turned to look at me and I avoided meeting her eyes, refocusing on my laptop. I needed to minimize this pull I felt toward her.
I should be angry. She’d been snooping, removed personal items from my office without my permission. But she’d also done me a favor. I couldn’t remember how long that bag of shirts had been there. Two, maybe three weeks? Each day when I arrived, I resolved to take them to the cleaners at lunchtime, but then I’d submerge myself in work and I’d forget all about them. She had guts to come in here and just take them, I’d give her that.
“Did you put them on my account?” I asked, keeping my gaze on the computer screen.
“I did,” she replied. “Also, I wanted to ask you, the instructions you got last month from Spencer & Associates regarding their client—”
“Dr. and Mrs. Foster.” I knew every single client I’d had since my career started. She didn’t need to remind me. “I don’t have time for this. I’m in court tomorrow.”
“I just want to know if you completed the opinion they asked you for.” I glanced up, and she was hovering by the door, her hand on the doorknob as if she were ready to duck out of the room if I threw something at her. It wasn’t like I hadn’t lobbed a book at a bothersome clerk before. She must have heard the stories, so I admired her for having the nerve to ask me questions she knew I didn’t want to answer. She risked me exploding at her, yet she still asked me. Was it guts or did she not care what I thought?
If I’d really wanted to discourage her from bothering me again I wouldn’t have said anything, but despite myself, I found I wanted her attention. “It was completed. You can bill the agreed amount.”
She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows but didn’t say a word. She was silent in her victory, and I liked her more for it.
“Did you retrieve your phone from the tube station?” She’d worn her hair back today. I preferred it loose, but this way I was able to see her fine features a little more clearly. Her generous lips were free of any enhancement and naturally red, as if five minutes ago she’d been kissing someone with fervor. The curve of her neck begged to be stroked; the angle of her breasts had my mouth watering. I cleared my throat. I couldn’t say if half the staff in this place were men or women. I was always too focused on the job, which made Miss King a distraction.
She pulled in a breath and I wasn’t sure if it was because she’d seen me staring or it was a natural gesture from her. I wanted to know.
“Nope,” she replied. “It was totaled. Do you need any assistance with preparing for court?”
There was no doubt that she could help, just not in the way she thought. My heartbeat pulsed in my neck as I imagined her pulling up her skirt and leaning over my desk. Her pale skin would look magnificent against the dark mahogany of the wood. Perhaps I’d leave her like that while I worked—bent over and ready for me. Or have her sit across from me, her legs open, and underwear free. Yes, that would be of great assistance.
“Mr. Knightley?” she asked, and I had to swallow down a groan.
“No, nothing,” I said as I turned back to my computer. She slipped silently out of my office, leaving me with a hardening cock under my desk.
Fuck. Nothing ever broke my concentration, but Miss King had found a way. I was in court tomorrow and I needed to be the most focused I’d ever been. Every case this year was going to be important for me, but this had come from an American law firm that had never instructed chambers before. They’d specifically wanted me, and I wasn’t going to be anything other than my best for them. The last thing I needed was to be distracted by some pretty American who doubtless would have handed in her notice by the end of the week.
Six
Violet