Cain, page 6
Just as quickly, he picks up. “Yeah?”
“In my office. Now.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Marissa
“This here is Peter Darcy.” Iris taps the file sitting between us on her desk. “Fifteen years old, arrested for possession of marijuana. Probably one of the lowest-level offenses we deal with. It’s frustrating, but it’s work, and someone has to do it.”
Yes, frustrating is correct. I admire Iris, I do, but how she does this every day baffles me. I’d want to hurl myself out the top window of this building.
This is not what I worked my way through law school for.
“I hear a lot of states are decriminalizing marijuana.” I do my best to make conversation.
“It’s true, but it’s still a problem for minors. We don’t just get calls about possession arrests, either. We have to deal with expensive private schools who find it. God, they’re worse than the courts, to be honest. Alcohol and cannabis, those two give us the most problems. This case is most definitely a priority, though. His father is a multimillionaire banker who also sits on the board of some of the largest corporations in the Midwest.”
And there it is. That’s why I despise this work.
It’s ridiculous and unfair. There are two justice systems: one for the wealthy, and one for the working class. Does some poor fifteen-year-old get his record wiped clean when he makes a mistake? Of course not, because his parents don’t have a ton of money and know the right people.
I don’t think I’m jaded, but I can’t deny growing up poor has molded my perspective on things. As far as I’m concerned, maybe they should let Peter Darcy fend for himself and be punished.
I want to say that so damn bad, but I don’t. It’s not my place, and if I want to get myself into a position where I do have some authority, I need to keep my head down and do the work. I’m not here to give my opinions.
No, you’re here to feel like an idiot. Banished to this office for daring to talk back to an asshole who almost got you killed.
And who walked you home, which was pretty chivalrous.
Okay, a chivalrous asshole who made me take a cab!
There’s a crowd forming not far away, and loud voices echoing down the hall. It’s quickly turning into quite the commotion. I stand from my chair to see what the heck is going on. It’s way noisier than it was yesterday. “Is that normal?”
She glances through the large glass window. “Haven’t seen anything like that in ten years.”
People sprint back and forth to cubicles, barking back and forth to each other.
“You know when you were in the bathroom, Cain went sprinting out of his office.” Iris sits back, tapping a pen against her chin. “Man, he’s fast too. Something big happened.”
I can’t help myself. I walk over and open the door, then catch a staff attorney as he’s stomping by.
“What’s going on?”
“Not sure.” He doesn’t slow down and keeps walking.
Another crowd moves, farther down the hall. It’s Clint leading a few partners and a team of senior and staff attorneys and even more paralegals into the large conference room. The same one from orientation.
“Most of the senior attorneys.”
I jump a little; I didn’t realize Iris had made her way next to me.
She stares through the window, then shrugs. “I don’t know.” She draws the words out.
I stand there, in Iris’s doorway, just staring. It’s so exciting. I want to be a part of it so damn bad, but I’m not at that level yet. None of the interns are.
We don’t have the experience. Still, it’s a one-in-ten-year opportunity.
Then, he comes barreling in from the front of the building.
Cain.
He storms down the hall like a man on a mission. There’s no telling where he’s been, only that he went somewhere in his coat. He takes it off and hands it to a staff member who trots to his office to hang it for him. He didn’t even have to tell her to do it.
That’s power and respect. Handing someone your coat and not saying a word, and they just run off and hang it for you. What does that feel like?
That’ll be me some day.
I’ll have an assistant, maybe two, and they’ll be able to anticipate my every need. I’ll treat them well, of course, because I’m not a monster.
But they’ll earn my trust, and I won’t have to worry about anything inconsequential; all my focus where I want it to be. Especially when the stakes are raised as high as they can be, like right now.
“Clint is running point. That means it has to be criminal, right?” I glance at Iris.
She’s back in her chair, still watching the chaos unfold.
“Yes.” She nods. “He’s the best criminal lawyer in the firm. I’d guess it’s high-profile, judging by the urgency.”
Cain marches into the conference room and gestures to Clint who walks over to him. They step off to the side, and Cain mutters something with a furtive glance toward the rest of the room, like this is for Clint’s ears only.
I can’t help but watch his every move, and I don’t think it has anything to do with work. Something about the way his body moves in that suit makes me wonder what he looks like without it. What would his shoulders and arms feel like under my hands? I realize I’m about to chew on my lip and stop myself before Iris sees me.
I need to just cool this train of thought. The last thing I need is to have a crush on my boss. Eyeing him is one thing—and he is damn fine to look at—but I can’t entertain fantasies.
Oh my God, he looks so powerful and forceful right now. So… In control, decisive, barking orders, keeping people calm, prioritizing.
Ugh, it’s the hottest thing he’s ever done. What is up with me loving every second of this? When he turns back to the people at the table and gives them some kind of pep talk, pointing his finger, yet staying calm and collected, with all their eyes glued to him—it makes me wet.
Marissa!
Ugh, it makes me want to punch him even more for being so damn hot. He ends his speech, says something else to Clint, and leaves the room. Everything looks far calmer now that he’s been in there. There are still attorneys punching away at the keys on laptops, firing off questions, but it’s orderly. Others are on their phones, texting, making calls.
God, I want to be one of them. My body is humming, my brain on fire, and I’m not sure it’s because of my professional desires or because of Cain. Still, I want to be in that room. My body is practically vibrating, desperate to dive in. It’s where I belong. I’ve never felt like this; my dream staring back at me thirty feet away.
It’s not your time.
I know I’m right. Someday that will be me, but not today. For now, I’ll work my ass off and learn everything I possibly can, observe.
It’s so depressing right now.
Unlike earlier this morning, when Cain made it a point to look straight at me through this same glass, he doesn’t acknowledge either of us on his way to his office. I shouldn’t pay this much attention to the way he walks, the way his body moves through space, but I can’t help it. Everything about him, especially after that little show, only makes my heart pound harder in my ears.
“I’m sure we’ll know what’s going on soon.” The tone in her voice says it’s time to get back to work. If anything, she sounds grateful.
I’m glad she’s content with where she is.
I can see Cain’s office from where I’m standing, and I watch as he gets on the phone the second he steps inside. He closes the door, then pulls the blinds.
What the hell is going on? It’s driving me insane.
You’re not important enough to know.
I start to turn around and walk back to my desk, when Clint sticks his head out of the conference room.
My eyes move right back to see if he gives any kind of clue.
He points. “Marcus, Stephanie.” He waggles two fingers at them, inviting them over.
My mouth drops open as this unfolds.
Then, this ball of heat balloons in my chest as I realize he’s pulling two of the interns from Harvard into the conference room with them.
Interns from my orientation, who started yesterday.
My hands ball into fists at my sides.
It should be me in there. It would be me in there, if Cain hadn’t pulled me away from Clint and put me with Iris.
My blood starts to boil. I know I shouldn’t do what I’m about to do, but it’s like my feet are just moving on their own. Look, I have a temper. I know this about myself and it’s gotten me into trouble before. For the most part, I’ve learned to control it.
This is my life at stake, though. It feels pretty damn existential, and I’ve had to fight for everything I’ve ever received. Nobody is given what they deserve, they have to take it.
Still, this might not work out how I intend.
“Marissa? Where are you going?” Iris’s voice sounds like it’s a thousand yards away, in the back of my mind.
I march down the hall to Cain’s office, telling myself to calm down and just be professional the entire way. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it, but I will try.
He owes me some answers, though. He won’t walk all over me out of some petty revenge that he caused. When I want something, I go after it, and if I fail, I pick myself up and try it again.
He might toss me out on my ass, but he will remember me. He’s going to remember me for a long time.
I give him a courtesy knock and open the door as I do it.
His jaw clenches at the intrusion, then his eyes widen when they land on me.
“Can I talk to you?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cain
I’m scrolling through my phone, looking for Donavan Collins. In the last year he relocated to Manhattan to open a firm under his own name, but regardless, he’s the best criminal lawyer in the country.
Out of nowhere, my door basically eases itself open.
What the fuck?
Then my eyes widen a little when I see it’s Marissa, standing there, looking like a bomb waiting to explode. To her credit, she’s trying to hold it together, but fuck if I don’t want to see it go off, even if it would be a horrible thing to happen.
I can’t let people see interns barging into my office.
“Can I talk to you?” She didn’t even wait for me to tell her it was okay to come in.
I have half a mind to continue with my call. Maybe she’d get the message if I ignored her. I don’t have any kids, but even I know you never give a brat what they want. It rewards poor behavior.
On the other hand, I can’t pretend her eyes spitting fire at me isn’t a turn on. Fuck, she doesn’t look like she even cares if she throws her career away.
“Well? You just gonna sit there and stare at me?”
I still haven’t said a word, and I make a show of setting my phone on my desk. Then, I slowly make my way over to her.
She gulps when I’m right in front of her, staring down my nose.
“Do you see those?” I gesture toward the closed blinds.
“Yes.”
I nod to the door. “Was that closed when you got here?”
Her damn hands are twitching at her sides, like she wants to strangle me.
Good.
“Yes,” she says, with a little bit of edge on the end of the word.
“Using basic skills of deduction, which I’m sure you’re more than capable of doing, what do you think that means?”
I don’t have time for this shit, but I’ll be damned if I don’t make time. This is exhilarating, and nobody can see right now.
She ignores my question. “This isn’t fair.”
I smirk right at her. “Life isn’t fair.”
I know I could easily deescalate this, but I can’t make myself do it. What the hell is wrong with me? The tension is off the fucking charts right now. She’s like a foot away. I could grab her hips so easily, dig my fingers in, and slam her up against the wall. Pin her there and kiss that smart mouth so hard it bruises her lips.
She stares at me, long and hard, like it’s some kind of competition.
“Have you thought this through? What exactly are you trying to accomplish here?”
“I needed to get your attention.” She folds her arms over her chest.
It pushes her tits together, and my nostrils flare when she does it. I want to rip that blouse off her and bite them. Instead, I mimic her and fold my arms too. “Well, congratulations, you have it now.” I switch to a sarcastic falsetto. “So why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you.” I hold up a hand. “No, wait, I have a better idea. Why don’t I just set up a couch over here on this wall.” I wave an arm out in that direction. “I can schedule an hour a week with everyone in the firm. They can tell me their problems, and I can give advice, and spend all my time trying to make their lives easier and their problems go away.”
I should throw her out. Out of my office, out of the firm, out of the building. Hell, I damn near did it to Clint yesterday, and he’s the top criminal attorney in the state. What makes people think they can come in here and fucking disrespect me?
With Clint, there would at least be some consequences if I did it. I’d win, but there’d be a battle. Any other intern, I’d tell them to fuck off and never remember them again.
So why can’t I do it to her? It would make my life so much easier without seeing her every day. I wouldn’t do creepy shit like hiding by an elevator for an hour waiting for her to leave, then walk her home. It would solve all my problems.
No matter how much I pride myself on discipline, it all flies out the window when Marissa Wilson’s involved. She makes me want to break every goddamn rule I have, and she’s currently succeeding.
She’s still seething. “I knew you wouldn’t listen to me.”
I lean down a little closer to her face. “What do you think I’m doing right now? You’ve been listened to more than anyone else in this firm today, and you haven’t said shit. So stop wasting my time and say what’s on your mind.” I point to the door. “Or get back to work.”
Color flames back to life in her cheeks, but then she puffs out her chest a little more and lifts her head a little higher. “I want to work on whatever’s going on out there.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s a lie, of course, but I want to see how much she thinks she knows.
“Oh please.” She exhales an exasperated sigh. “Half the senior attorneys and two partners are in the main conference room right now. Clint’s running point, so it’s a criminal case. Judging by the way you flew out of the office, I’m guessing it’s high-profile with a lot of media attention.” She points at me. “I want to work on it.”
Fuck, she’s smart. She’s going to do great things one day. Still, she’s not going anywhere near Clint. “And I want the Brewers to win the World Series. I think Mick Jagger could teach you a lesson here. What’s that thing he said once…” I snap my fingers and point at her. “Oh yeah, you can’t always get what you want.”
“Fuck the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin is superior.”
My mouth drops open before I can stop myself.
“At least the Brewers have a chance. They get to play. I don’t have a chance. How am I supposed to get where I need to go bailing rich teeny boppers out of marijuana charges?”
I shake my head right at her. “It’s not up to you. Didn’t they teach you that at UW? Interns don’t pick their cases. Staff attorneys don’t even pick their cases. Jesus, how arrogant can you be?”
Her voice morphs to an over-the-top Wisconsin accent. “Oh, trust me, I know. I’m just from Wisconsin, and not Harvard.” She says Wisconsin like Wis-caaan-sin, then thrusts a finger at me.
It reminds me of when she poked me in the chest that first day on the street. I didn’t feel it, of course, but I sensed her absolute rage. I sense it now, too.
Her voice goes back to normal. “I would’ve been on this case if it weren’t for you. You did this to me because I yelled at you in the street. Admit it.”
The worst part is, I understand where her rage is coming from. She’s frustrated, rightfully so. She knows she has what it takes. She’s the best intern in the whole group, only an idiot wouldn’t see it. She sees what she wants, sitting right in front of her, and she can’t touch it.
I certainly know how that fucking feels, since I can’t touch her.
I don’t want to do this, believe it or not, but I have to. “This will be a good experience. Learn to shine where you’re placed. Or bloom where you’re planted. Pick your favorite idiom.”
Her eyes harden. “A plant can’t grow without what it needs.”
“Nature finds a way. You will too.”
She stands there, still unsatisfied.
I’d like to take care of that for her.
“This is ridiculous.” She folds her arms again.
I have to force myself not to stare at her tits.
Believe it or not, I don’t like hurting her like this. I know she’s good enough. I agree with her. I want to tell her the truth, but I can’t. She’d argue the point, give me a whole bunch of shit. It’s better for her to just think I’m a vengeful asshole.
She doesn’t know Clint the way I do.
If it weren’t for him, she’d already have what she wants. I want her to be happy. I want her to feel like she’s a part of something that matters. She deserves it.
But I don’t trust that motherfucker with her. That scenario could end a lot worse than her being pissed at me while I want to take her home and put my dick inside her. I should’ve done something about him a long time ago, and now I’m mad that I didn’t. He put down roots here, has tentacles weaving all throughout this state. The other partners like him, and yeah, he’s fucking good at what he does.
It’d cause a shitstorm if I fired him without a reason, and even with one, it’d be a large headache. Very large.
What the hell am I doing?
This is a waste of time. I need to talk to Donavan. Just rip the Band-Aid off already. “You said what you wanted to say. I listened. Now, I’m busy, so you’re excused.”
