Confessions of a Litigation God: A Legal Affairs Full Length Erotic Novel (40 page)

I stayed soft, even
after she tried to stroke me to life.

It was comical
actually… watching her as she stuck her tongue out of the side
of her mouth in concentration, trying to figure out why I wasn’t
getting hard. When she finally stopped her rubbing, she looked up at
me and blanched when she saw the anger on my face.

“I’m so
sorry,” she blurted out as she jerked her hand away. “I
thought… I just… I figured if I…”

“I don’t
think I need to tell you how inappropriate that was,” I said
quietly, my voice rippling with menace.

“No, of course
not. I guess I got some mixed signals—”

“There were no
fucking mixed signals, Kylie.”

Her face went beet
red, and she started stammering more apologies. I was so pissed,
mainly because after having her cup my package, it made me realize
how much I missed Mac’s hands between my legs and that amped up
my overall crappy attitude even further.

I simply got up and
stormed out of her office, and I haven’t seen or talked to her
since. I should probably fire her, but I can’t seem to get up
the energy to have to face her at this point. Maybe I’ll just
have Bill handle it.

This morning, I took
a decisive step in trying to set my life back in order again. I
fucked things up with Mac for good, which is not surprising, seeing
as how my head is still all sorts of fucked up where she’s
concerned. I’m thinking I’ve made a monumental mistake
where she’s concerned, but I’m not sure how to fix it.

If I’m honest
with myself, I’m not sure I want to fix it. Right now, misery
seems to be the best company for me. It’s certainly no more
than I deserve.

So my decisive step
was in the form of an email to Mac. So far, we have successfully
avoided each other this week, but that’s only because both of
us have been trying really hard to stay out of each other’s
way. We can’t keep taking alternate routes to the break room
and doing all communication through email. That’s no type of
working relationship, so I decided to remove that problem.

My email to Mac this
morning was simple.

Mac,

In an effort to
help with the burgeoning increase in complex business cases, you are
being transferred into that division under the general supervision of
Bill Crown. Obviously, you will still work on the Jackson case since
the clients are attached to you, but John Casting will act as your
co-counsel and immediate supervisor. You can direct any and all
questions to him. Finally, with the addition of Kylie Wynn to the
Pearson appeal, I will not need your help on that case further.

I wish you the
best of luck with these new endeavors, and I’m sure you’ll
be a successful member of the complex business litigation team.

Sincerely,

Matthew Connover

That should help
both of us move forward. I was sure it was the best thing for both of
us. In fact, I had even talked myself into believing that this is
really what Mac would want, and she’d be grateful for the
reprieve.

I swear…
there was absolutely no part of me that was secretly hoping she’d
barge into my office after reading it and demand for me to take it
back. Then she’d demand for me to kiss her… then maybe
fuck her, and all would be right with us again.

Nope. No part of me
that was hoping for that.

“I have some
inner-office mail for you, Mr. Connover,” I hear from my
doorway. It was one of several young interns we employ that do menial
tasks, one of which is to ferry documents back and forth among the
attorneys in the firm.

I hold my hand out
to him, taking the stack and not saying a word. He quietly leaves as
I flip through the stuff, seeing nothing that looks urgent.

That is until I see
an envelope that says, “Matthew Connover” on the front.

The hair stands up
on the back of my neck because I know… feel it in my bones,
that whatever is inside is not good. In fact, I’m thinking it’s
very, very bad.

Opening it up, I
pull out a single sheet of paper with typewritten words on it.
Smoothing it out on my desk, I read it.

Dear Matt:

Please accept
this as my letter of resignation. While I have enjoyed my time here
at Connover & Crown and have learned many things, I feel it is
time for me to broaden my horizons elsewhere.

I will be glad to
give you two weeks’ notice, however, if you prefer that I leave
immediately, I would certainly understand.

Thank you for the
opportunity to work for you, and I wish you and your firm all the
best.

Sincerely,

McKayla Dawson

My stomach bottoms
out, my blood turning icy. My chest painfully constricts as I
realize… Mac is truly going to be walking out of my life for
good. Before… just thirty seconds ago actually… I knew
that she was still down the hallway, and I think part of me maybe
even assumed that we’d get to the point that we could talk to
each other again.

Never did I think
that she’d leave. That I wouldn’t see her every day.

A panicky feeling
settles over me as I realize that everything with Mac has just spun
so quickly out of control. I’m always the person that has a
firm grip on things, but now I feel like everything in my life is
just turning to shit.

I stare at her
resignation letter, wondering what to do. I had hoped by transferring
her elsewhere, that would put enough distance between us so that she
would feel comfortable staying on here. I’m thinking perhaps I
misjudged Mac.

Standing up from my
desk, I grab the letter and stuff it back in the envelope.
This
won’t do at all
, I think as I head toward her office.

She’s got her
back turned to me, diligently typing on her computer, but when I step
in her office, she hears me and turns around.

I throw the envelope
with her resignation on her desk. “What the hell is this?”

“Come on,
Matt. You know what it is.” Her voice is soft with not a hint
of anger or malice. She seems a bit sad, a bit detached, but
completely resolute.

“You’re
resigning?” I ask for clarification, because fuck… I
still can’t believe what she’s doing.

“Yes. I’ll
give you two weeks’ notice or, if you want me to leave
immediately, I’ll do that. I’m taking the
Jackson
case with me though, so please don’t think about fighting me on
that. My clients won’t stay here if I’m not involved.”

“I don’t
give a fuck if you take that case,” I tell her as I wave my
hand in exasperation. “I just can’t believe you’d
quit. I mean… I moved you out of my section so you wouldn’t
have to deal with me. I thought it would give you want you wanted.”

Mac tilts her head
and looks at me curiously. She’s trying to figure me out…
figure my game. I feel like I’m about ready to explode with
frustration and helplessness, but I’m not about to let her know
that. I try to school my features into a visage of calm and can only
hope she doesn’t see the turmoil raging inside of me.

“I’m
sorry,” she says with an apologetic smile, her tone aloof and
professional. “I appreciate you trying to make my work
environment easier. It’s just… it’s just too hard
for me to be here. Too many memories.”

She pauses, her eyes
going a bit dreamy, and then she says with a tiny smile of
remembrance. “Some right in this office.”

I can’t help
but smile in memory too, thinking of that first week she worked here
and I took her on her desk. Or the time I took her against her wall.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to step foot in this
office again and not remember those times.

I look at her hard,
searching deep for some type of lifeline she may be throwing out to
me. I’m hoping her eyes will tell me something… maybe
give me a reason I can beg her to say. All I see in return is a woman
whose mind is made up, and I don’t think is going to spend a
moment looking back over her shoulder at what she’s leaving
behind.

That thought is
dismally depressing, and I feel absolutely lost.

“There’s
nothing I can do to change your mind?” I throw out, not giving
a fuck if my tone is too pleading.

She seems to be
considering something, but it doesn’t last more than a second.
She gives a slight shake to her head. “I’m sorry. This is
for the best.”

I played football in
high school, played some inter-mural in college. I’m pretty
fucking competitive, and I hate losing. I hate that feeling, when the
clock ticks to zero and you’re out of time to make a final, big
play, and you realize that you’ve lost the game… that
feeling that your stomach is bottoming out and you’re mired in
anger and frustration and yeah… even sadness.

That’s what I
feel right now. Game is over, and it’s time to pack up and go
home.

“All right
then,” I say quietly as I pick the envelope back up. “I’ll
accept your resignation, and I’ll take the two weeks’
notice. That’s very professional of you to offer that. Since
you’ll only be here two more weeks, obviously I won’t be
transferring you over to Bill. You can help me wind up some stuff.”

“Okay,”
she says softly. “Sounds like a game plan.”

I give her a small
smile to show her no hard feelings and leave her office.

But there are so
many hard feelings, and I better learn how to process through them if
I’m going to be able to move on from her.

***

The next day, I’m
attempting to slog through the workday after another shitty,
sleepless night. I dreamed of Mac… of course, except it wasn’t
a sexy, pornographic dream… it was more like a nightmare. I
don’t even remember the details of it, but I felt Mac getting
pulled away from me and it felt like my heart was getting pulled out
of my chest. I woke up covered in sweat and depressed as shit.

I couldn’t go
back to sleep so I dragged my ass into the office at quarter ‘til
six in the morning.

A soft knock on my
door and I look up. Kylie is standing there, and I’m so not
ready to deal with her. In fact, I haven’t had time to even
talk to Bill about the situation.

“We need to
talk,” Kylie says nervously. “I’m really
embarrassed about what happened and need to set things straight with
you.”

Glancing at my
watch, I see it’s lunch time. “Let’s go down to the
cafeteria to grab something to eat. We can talk there.”

She raises her
eyebrows at me in surprise because I’m sure she never expected
me to talk to her in so public of a forum. But she must be fucking
stupid if she thinks I’m going to put myself in a room with her
alone again. I don’t know Kylie, but I do know she’s got
no qualms with trying to give her boss a hand job that never once
gave her any indication he’d want one. There is no telling what
she may try to do, and I’m smart enough to know a woman scorned
is not a woman you want to fuck with. Marissa imparted that advice to
me and I’ve apparently taken it to heart. For once, I’m
happy to have major trust issues with women because it makes me
cautious. I wouldn’t put it past her to try to put me in a
compromising situation and then claim I sexually harassed her.

Standing up from my
desk, I walk past her and assume she’ll follow me down to the
main level of our building. It has a pretty decent cafeteria, and
although I usually work through lunch sustaining myself with a
granola bar or something, it’s a nice alternative and super
convenient.

Kylie actually makes
small talk with me about the
Pearson
appeal, and I keep half
an ear open because I’m clearly going to be taking the case
back over soon. When Kylie lays her arm on mine as she tells me
something about the case, I have an immense surge of satisfaction
that I was smart enough to take this conversation into a public
place. She’s clearly not as embarrassed about what happened as
she claims to have been. She may not be embarrassed now, but she will
be soon because this lunch is going to culminate with Kylie looking
for a new job.

When I get to the
register, I pay for my lunch, purposely not paying for Kylie’s
so as to make sure there is no misunderstanding as to our
relationship. Very soon, she’ll be very clear about it.

Picking my tray up,
I scan the room filled with Formica-covered tables and bright,
primary-colored plastic chairs. A flash of raven-colored hair catches
my eye, causing me to turn slightly, and I see Mac sitting at a table
with Cal. She’s staring right at me.

And for the first
time since I can remember, I don’t have a flash of hate fill me
when I see Cal. I don’t even feel a moment of jealousness that
he’s sitting with my lover.

Well, ex-lover.

If anything, I’m
just avidly curious as to what they’re talking about. Probably
me, no doubt, but that doesn’t even upset me.

It’s quite
amazing, and I have to wonder… did it really make a difference
the information that Mac shared with me about what happened between
Cal and Marissa? I had purposely not tried to dwell on it in the last
several days, instead having quite enough misery pining over Mac. But
now, I have to wonder… because I’m having a very
un-Matt-like reaction to seeing them together.

Oh, I still have
brutal longing when I see Mac, and that empty feeling inside of me
magnifies. That hasn’t changed and not sure it will. But I
don’t feel even a tinge of anger at seeing her with him. Just
sadness and inquisitiveness as to what they’re discussing.

As Mac looks at me,
her eyes shining across the expanse of the room, a moment passes
between us as if nothing were wrong. As if she were happy to see me,
and I her, and everything this past week was wiped clean. I let my
gaze wander to Cal for a moment, but his head is bent, reading a
document.

I don’t even
hesitate but head over to where they’re sitting. I don’t
know why, and don’t know what I plan to do. I think I just want
to stand close to Mac, even if just for a moment. I vaguely hear the
click-click of Kylie’s heels as she follows me, and keep my
gaze pinned on Mac. Her eyes widen when she realizes I’m coming
to their table and she actually kicks Cal under the table, causing
his head to snap up. She tilts her head in my direction and Cal’s
gaze follows, coming to rest on me.