by Vi Keeland
I enter Leonard’s office and attempt to find a chair under the piles of files with papers haphazardly sticking out all over. I remove three suit jackets I am positive have been there for at least two years and hang them up as Leonard begins to talk about the case we’re working on together. As he talks, I reorganize all of the files which had been left ajar on the chair and throw out a dozen Wall Street Journals that have dates more than a year old. Leonard either doesn’t notice my tidying or it doesn’t bother him at all, because he doesn’t miss a beat as he brings me up to speed while I go about tidying the place.
“You’re going to have to handle the deposition yourself this afternoon.” Leonard wraps up the discussion while chewing on a sausage and peppers hero that Regina delivered a few minutes ago, even though it’s only ten thirty in the morning.
“I can do that.” I can, but I’m surprised that he is asking me to. The afternoon deposition is for one of our largest clients and usually Leonard leads and I take a back seat. Leonard sees the question written on my face.
“I’m having angioplasty this afternoon.” Leonard waves off the comment as if he had just told me the time and not that he was having serious heart surgery.
“Angioplasty? Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes. I’m fine. The doctors today make a big deal about nothing. He probably just wants me on the table because his kid’s got a tuition payment due.”
“So it probably doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that you eat a sausage and peppers hero every day for breakfast then? It couldn’t be that you haven’t taken care of your heart, right?” I stand, assuming the lecturing daughter position that Leonard, on rare occasion, has allowed me to act out when his unhealthy habits rise to disturbing levels.
“Listen missy. When you get to be my age, we’ll see how much you give a shit about what you eat. So keep your salad-eating, skinny thoughts to yourself and go prep for our client who I’m counting on you to please.”
I laugh, knowing Leonard isn’t really mad, it’s just his way. Neither of us do warm and mushy, but he knows I care about him. “Tell Millie to call me when you’re all patched up, okay?” Yes, Leonard Milstock married a woman named Millie, which makes her Millie Milstock. I would have kept my maiden name, but I’m sure that wasn’t even a consideration when they married more than fifty years ago.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” I smile at my boss and shake my head watching him finish off the last of his hero. When they scope out his veins I’m pretty sure they’ll find whole pieces of sausage are causing the clog.
Chapter 3
Elle
A few days later, Regina buzzes into my office to tell me that William and Mr. Hunter are here for their eleven o’clock appointment. Of course, William is fifteen minutes early and me…I’m running late. I do my best to wrap up the case I’m working on quickly. I recognize I’ve been taking advantage of William lately, almost daring him to call me on my lies and lateness. But he doesn’t. He won’t mention that he caught me in yet another lie the other night when I said I had to work early, and I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t care or if he really is that polite.
“Thank you Regina, would you please show them to the conference room for me and tell them I’ll just be a few minutes.” I buzz back.
“Sure thing Elle.” Gigi responds back to me in her sex kitten voice, definitely not Regina. I smile, wondering if she is letting me know that they are not happy to be kept waiting and she is going to appease them, or maybe Mr. Hunter is a nice looking older guy who calls for Gigi to make an appearance.
It’s only a few minutes after the hour when I make my way into the conference room, which is early for me. I’m actually pleased with myself for being timely. William and his client both stand as I enter and I get the sudden urge to salute both men for some reason. My hands are filled with my coffee, notepads, cell phone, and laptop. I don’t even look up at the men until I have arranged my pile on the conference room table.
Regina comes into the conference room and purrs, “Can I get you gentlemen some coffee?” No sign of Regina, she’s still in Gigi mode.
I look up at William, half expecting to find a scowl on his face the way Gigi is pouring on her act so thick, but he’s smiling at me in his usual friendly demeanor.
“Elle, this is Nicholas Hunter.” William motions to the man sitting next to him.
I finally look up at the man sitting at William’s side and I’m startled at what I find. The man knocks the wind right out of my lungs. He is quite possibly the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on. William, who is sitting right next to him, is no slacker in the looks department, but this man is everything that William isn’t. Tan skin, deep green eyes, unruly dark hair, and a rugged jaw frames the man who extends his hand to me.
“It’s Nico, nobody calls me Nicholas except this guy,” Nico motions to William with his thumb, “my mother, and my priest.” He reaches over the table and extends his large hand to me. My petite one gets lost in his and it feels like I’m shaking the hand of a man with a baseball glove on. His handshake is firm and warm and he looks directly into my eyes as he speaks, a slightly cocky smile on his face. I feel the warmth spread from our joined hands through my body and parts of me tingle as the heat finds its way to my most private of areas.
Nico. The sexy name matches the sexy man. It isn’t lost on me that it must kill William to call the man Nico, knowing he has such a befitting formal name available to him. But I think Nico matches the man before me much better than Nicholas. I’m staring at him, but not just because he is utterly gorgeous, I feel like I know him from somewhere. Even the name is familiar, Nico Hunter. I’m sure I know him from somewhere, but the appointment had been with Nicholas Hunter and that name didn’t ring any bells.
“Elle?” William calls my attention back to him. I hope I wasn’t staring for too long. And did I have my mouth hanging open too? That would just be rude.
“Nicholas, umm Nico, has an endorsement contract that he wants out of. My firm has taken a look at it, and it looks ironclad to us from a contract prospective, but we thought maybe you could apply the Weiland case to this.”
Interesting. Weiland was a case that I wrote a paper on in my last year of law school that was published. It was a big deal for a student to get published outside of law review, so I’m not surprised that William remembered the case. The case was about an athlete who had a three-year endorsement contract with a company that sold an energy drink when he signed the contract, but later merged with another company. The other company manufactured a drink that was marketed as a drink to mask the use of performance enhancing drugs. Weiland didn’t want to be associated with a company that touted masking performance enhancing drugs from testing. Unfortunately his contract was airtight. But in an ingenious move by his attorney, rather than sue alleging one of the contract terms was invalid, which he would have lost, they sued based upon a violation of the contract’s moral clause.
So Nico is an athlete of some sort? That’s not surprising by the way he looks. He’s a large man and I can tell he’s in great shape even with a suit covering his body. “Why don’t you give me a little background, Nico?”
I can’t wait to hear his story for some reason. It’s more than just for a prospective case, I’m curious who the man is in front of me.
Nico starts out by telling me that he is in mixed marital arts. I don’t really know what that entails, but I assume he means some sort of karate expert. As he talks I try to take some notes, but I find myself staring at him, unable to move my eyes to the paper to write. When he speaks, he looks directly into my eyes and it makes it even harder to break our gaze. I forget William is sitting right next to him. There’s no one in the room but me and the man with the deep green eyes who won’t give me a break from the intensity sucking the energy from my body.
Regina enters the room with coffee for our guests and I’m grateful for the break as Nico turns his attention to Regina to say thank you. When Nico turns his
attention back to me, I glance up at Regina who looks back from the door then looks between me and Nico and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. I pretend to cough to cover my smile with my hand and William offers me his water. Always the gentleman.
Nico picks up where he left off and I take a minute to get a better look at his face before he locks my gaze with his again. I notice a small, healed scar above his left eye and another longer one on his right cheek. They are faint, like they’ve been there for years, but his tan skin color yields a lighter shade to scars, making them stand out more than they normally would. The scars make his face look even more rugged and somehow emphasizes the masculinity of his chiseled jaw. The face belongs to a strong man, a man I can’t take my eyes off of for some reason.
William speaks when Nico is done and his voice finally makes me remember that he’s in the room. I hope I wasn’t drooling while his client was speaking. I try to focus on William as he talks, but my eyes keep wandering back to Nico, who catches me each time. I see an ever so slight twitch at the corner of Nico’s mouth each time, secretly acknowledging that I’ve been caught.
William is able to refocus me by drawing me into a conversation about how the Weiland case could apply. Nico wants out of an endorsement contract he is in because the manufacturer uses child labor. The fact that the man is willing to give up what amounts to a multi-million dollar contract for such a noble cause makes him even more sexy to me.
After almost an hour, William looks at his watch and begins to wrap things up. Nico asks me my opinion on his case and I tell him I need a copy of the contract and some time to do a little research on the company before I can give an educated opinion.
William nods and stands, “Are we on for Thursday, maybe we can discuss it further then?”
“Umm, yes.” I catch Nico looking between the two of us. I think he is observing our interaction.
Nico shakes my hand again and my heartbeat speeds up at the simple contact. He doesn’t release my hand right away. Instead he uses his other hand to motion between William and I and asks, “Are you two a couple?”
I respond no at the exact same time that William responds yes. I look to William and then to Nico, who is still holding my hand from our handshake, and I think I catch a glimmer in his eye that matches the smirk on his face. He’s amused at our answer and I don’t blame him. He finally releases my hand and I find myself oddly disappointed that he’s not touching me anymore.
I turn to William and find he is still looking at where Nico’s and my hands had been joined. His face looks conflicted and confused and I feel badly for the disrespect that I’ve just shown him. He lowers his voice to me, “I’ll see you Thursday?”
I nod, thinking it best to have whatever conversation needs to be had between us in private. I stand at Regina’s desk as the two men walk out the door. Nico looks back at the last second and smiles at me. William never looks back.
***
I toss and turn all night, unable to get the picture of Nico Hunter out of my head. The man is sexy as hell and it bothers me that I can’t control my thoughts. It feels like I only fell asleep ten minutes ago when I wake up to the music blasting on my phone alarm. I drag my half-sleeping body into the shower and let the cool water pour over me in an attempt to force myself awake. After a few minutes of self inflicted torture, I adjust the temperature on the water and close my eyes to relax into the warmth. It hits me then. My eyes dart open, trying to force out the picture that appeared from the darkness of my memory without warning.
Nico Hunter. Nico “The Lady Killer” Hunter. I was there the night that he killed a man. It was the one and only fight I’d ever gone to. And it all comes flooding back. I referred to the fight as the cage fight, but now that I think about it, it was called MMA, mixed martial arts.
My stepfather is a retired policeman. Sometimes he works security at sporting events, a lot of retired cops do. He had been given two tickets to a big MMA championship fight, and offered them to me. I wouldn’t normally go, considering my past and how I feel about watching people pummel each other, even if it is consensual. But my little brother Max is a huge fan of the sport and I got suckered into taking him. I just couldn’t say no to the excited twelve-year-old who momentarily forgot he was supposed to act cool and was jumping up and down like he did when he was four.
The fight didn’t last long, two rounds. I remember it clearly. It was probably less than ten minutes in total. The pre-fight festivities lasted an hour longer than the actual fight. Our seats were good, only about 10 rows back from the center of the ring. I remember flinching every time one of the men threw a punch, yet I couldn’t turn away. I close my eyes and watch instant replay of those last seconds. Most people think having a photographic memory is a blessing, but in my case it’s a curse. Yes, I remember lots of figures and words, but I also remember all of the bad things I’d rather forget.
It’s as if I flipped on a video and hit play right as those last few seconds play out. I see Nico throw the punch, and then I watch in slow motion as his opponent’s head turns to the side with the force of ten men. He drops to the floor, his head limp and rattling around before it even hits the canvas. The screaming crowd becomes silent and the medical team rushes into the cage seconds after it all happens.
As horrible as it is, seeing that all play out in my mind isn’t what haunts me. It’s the still of the fighter dropped to his knees when he realizes the man isn’t getting back up. He’s shattered. I can’t take my eyes from his face as I watch him break into a million little pieces. I should’ve felt sorry for the man that just lost his life, but I don’t even look his way. I’m fixated on the man who will never be the same. Never. I know it. I feel connected to him for a stopped moment in time.
In my mind, it’s high noon and the shadow of my past is twice the size of me. Towering over me. I can’t escape it.
Chapter 4
Elle
I’m later than usual when I finally get to the office. I’m still in a fog and find myself dazing out as I catch up on emails and plan my day. Nico “The Lady Killer” Hunter. I didn’t know him before the fight, but that was his name. I remember watching him walk into the cage and smile a cocky smile at the crowd. The ladies went crazy. It didn’t take long to figure out what his name meant. I remember feeling a jolt when I took in his smile and that body, that incredible body.
The press had a field day for weeks after that fight. His name may have been Nico “The Lady Killer” Hunter before the fight, but the press removed the “Lady” part from his name after that.
I’m typing words into Google before I even realize what I’m doing. The pictures that were etched into my brain are no different on the screen when they appear. The referee had ruled the fatal blow a clean hit, but that didn’t stop the press from sensationalizing the story. A few weeks later, after the press had moved on to whatever carcass was yet to be picked over, I read a small story hidden in the back of the paper amongst the advertising. Nico’s opponent had had an unknown underlying head condition and was a walking time bomb.
I’m able to push thoughts of Nico into the depths of my head and finally get some work done after two more cups of coffee. It’s midafternoon when Regina buzzes in to tell me I have a client in the lobby, but I don’t have an appointment on my calendar.
I walk into the lobby, my thick sandy blonde hair being held in place on top of my head in a lopsided bun held together by two strategically placed pencils. I stop in my tracks as I see Nico rise from the couch in the waiting room and toss a magazine back on the table.
I’m surprised by his appearance, but he seems oddly familiar after spending half of the night and most of the morning in my mind. I put on my best game face and straighten my posture. “Mr. Hunter, did I have an appointment with you today?” I pretend I’m concerned I may have forgotten an appointment, but there is no way I’ve forgotten anything about the man from the two times I’ve seen him.
He takes two steps closer to me, just an inch or two
closer than one would consider normal space between people. But I notice it. He’s taller than me by at least eight inches, if not more. “It’s Nico, please.” He smiles at me and the room feels smaller, warmer.
I smile back. I don’t have to fake it, it’s a real smile. I’m happy to see him and I can’t hide it anyway. I have no idea why. I should be freaked out after what I remembered, but I’m not for some reason. I’m curious about this man. I nod my head. “Nico, what can I help you with?”
He smiles, it’s a mischievous, lopsided smile that makes me think the man is playful. But damn if it isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. “I remembered a few things I thought I should tell you that I didn’t mention yesterday. Do you have a few minutes?”
I tilt my head to the side and study him. What is it about him that doesn’t want to make me run even though I can feel my heart racing through my shirt? “Sure, let’s go talk in my office.”
Nico smiles a victorious smile and it’s contagious. I smile back and I’m not quite sure what we are even smiling about. He follows me down the hallway and as I turn into my office I catch his eyes lingering on my behind. He looks up just as I take in his line of sight. A normal response would be to be embarrassed at being caught, but not Nico. He grins at me unapologetically. Instead of finding it rude or harassing, for some reason I find it turns me on.
I sit behind my desk and Nico looks at the small chair sitting opposite my desk and back to me. “Would you mind if we sat over there?” He motions to the couch behind him and I realize for the first time that a man of his size wouldn’t fit in the little delicate chair which sits in front of my desk.