Provoke (3 page)

Leeta

I braced myself as I walked back into the office after hearing the verdict. They were going to go mental, and no doubt Tim had already told them everything. Pushing through the door, cheers erupted as I walked toward my desk.

“Good work, Leeta!”

I grinned and rolled my eyes, trying to pretend the praise didn’t faze me when in reality, I was fucking loving it. As a new member of the senior team at the office of public prosecutions, this was my first major win, and I had slammed it. The guilty decision had been unanimous, and had taken less than three hours for the jury to reach. Three fucking hours. That was unheard of!

“Very well done, Leeta.”

Donovan Peters, one of the head prosecutors, gave me a hug and handed me a bottle of wine with a fancy label.
Ooh, expensive
.

“There must have been something special in that closing argument of yours.”

I blushed, thinking back to the moments before in the room, on the phone with Mace. Maybe that had been my secret weapon. Well, having to work that into every trial was something I was more than willing to consider.

“Keep this up and you’ll be moving up the ranks in no time,” he added with a wink.

Wow. I loved the feeling of winning. Always had. Right back to my primary school debate days when I’d made a girl from the opposing team cry over what was the better ice cream flavour.

How could the answer have been anything other than chocolate?

My mind drifted back to the moment the jury had announced their verdict. I had rocked that courtroom like it was my bitch, and it felt great. I couldn’t wait to tell Mace.

Shit
. I glanced at my watch. I was running late. I was supposed to be at the restaurant in five minutes. Peak hour in the city was a nightmare. It would take me at least twenty to get across the city.

“Shit, Tim, I gotta go.” I brushed my lips past his cheek and shimmied on my jacket. “Dinner with my parents and Mace,” I added with a smile.

“Good luck! Text me how it goes, honey.”

#

The damn elevator wouldn’t move fast enough. I stood there staring at the screen that displayed the floor it was on. Why the fuck was it still on level twenty? I reached over and pressed the button, as if it were going to suddenly give a shit that I was running late and hurry up.

Ugh, fuck this. I sprinted toward the stairwell and began my decent, two stairs at a time. Five minutes later, completely breathless I stumbled into the foyer. People glanced at me, taking a wide berth around me.

Yeah, you should see me running up ten flights of stairs
. I was so unfit it wasn’t funny.

Smoothing out my suit, I ran out onto the sidewalk and headed in the direction of the station.
On my way I texted Mace.

Sorry baby, running late. Be there ASAP xx

No sooner had I’d shoved it back into my jacket pocket than it began to ring. I answered right away, expecting it to be Mace, not my father.

“Where are you?” asked Dad. I rolled my eyes, clearly picking up the annoyance in his tone. God forbid I keep the Colonel waiting. Our relationship had shifted over the years into the strained, awkward one it now was.

There had been a time when I’d been such a daddy’s girl. He’d been my hero. Everything I’d done was with the intention of impressing him—until that became harder and harder to do. Eventually, I realized I needed to put myself first or I’d go insane.

“Sorry,” I huffed, jogging down the stairs at the station two at a time. “Trial ran over. I’m on my way.”

“Okay. Hurry, though.”

Sure, because I was planning on taking my time.

I picked up my speed when I saw the train on the platform, sliding into it just as the doors began to close. I sat down on the only vacant seat, which was next to a rather rotund man who smelled of cheese.

I kept as close to the edge of the seat as I possibly could without appearing rude, which still nearly had me pressed up against him. He smiled at me and I smiled back, then turned my attention to the book I’d pulled out to pretend to read.

“One of the classics.”

I glanced at the man, surprised. “It is,” I agreed.
To Kill a Mockingbird
was one of my favourites.

“My favourite novel,” he smiled. “I actually have a signed first edition in my collection.”

Holy shit. I’d dismissed this man as a homeless bum. My face flushed, embarrassed at my rush to judge him. I was better than that. At least I thought I was.

My phone buzzed, saving me. I excused myself, pulling it out to check the message. It was from Mace.

Leets, I cannot go in there without you. Just try and hurry, okay? We don’t need to give your parents more ammunition.

Why is everyone on my case today?

The train pulled up to the station opposite the restaurant I was headed to. Jumping up, I raced off, jogging up the mountain of stairs and out onto the street. I spotted Mace, pacing back and forth just down from the door.

God, he is so fucking hot. And he’s actually dressed up.
The last time I’d seen him in a suit was at his brother’s trial three months earlier. Yet here he was, donning a black suit, clean-shaven, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. Part of me wanted to skip dinner, drag him back to my place, and . . . well, you get the picture.

“There you are.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my head. “Busy day?” Argh, he smelled amazing. The scent of wood tones and musk surrounded me. It wasn’t fair that he was so damn irresistible.

I nodded. “I won.” His face lit up, and I couldn’t help but smile. I loved that regardless of the difference in our upbringings, when it came to my work he was always there for me, and supportive.

“Congratulations, babe. I’m so proud of you.” He beamed, leaning down to kiss me. He flicked open my jacket and looked me over. His eyes darkened. “Fuck, you drive me crazy, Leets. These skimpy little outfits you wear.”

“It’s a suit.” I laughed, glancing down at my pressed jacket, black skirt, and thin, cream silk shirt.

There was nothing sexy about my outfit. Everything about me screamed practical, yet there he was, eyeing me like I was wearing nothing but a bra and panties. My body tingled, an instant response to the positive feedback it was receiving. That was one thing about Mace: he loved to tell me how hot I was, or how badly he wanted to bang me. I wasn’t the kind of girl who needed constant reassurance, but I wasn’t about to pass it up when it was offered.

“Yeah, well, you’d look fucking hot in a hessian bag,” he mumbled, nibbling at my neck, his fingers slipping the top button of my shirt undone. Giggling, I glanced inside the window of the restaurant . . . and right into the eyes of my father.

Shit!
Moment ruined.

“Come on, let’s get inside.”

“It’s not too late to pretend you couldn’t make it,” he said, grabbing my hand.

Oh, yes it is.

“Come on,” I said, dragging him inside. “I promise it won’t be that bad.” Now, if only I could convince myself of that.
Whose stupid idea was this, anyway?

We walked over where my parents were seated. I held Mace’s hand tightly, anticipating the bloodbath I knew was coming. I’d been vague with my parents when telling them about Mace and his family, and I just knew it was all going to come out tonight. I would not be surprised if the first question that came out of Dad’s mouth was asking for his family tree.

No, I wasn’t joking.

“Mom, Dad, this is Mace.” I smiled and held Mom’s gaze, my eyes begging her to control my father for at least the one night. “Mace, my parents, Derrick and Matilda.”

“Lovely to meet you, Mace.” Mom beamed at him. Was she blushing? I leaned in closer. She was! God, Mom found my boyfriend sexy. Kill me now.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs Drake,” Mace said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. She giggled, her voice a few notes too high as her face went redder. I rolled my eyes and sat down. At least he’d won her over. I doubted Dad was going to fall for the sexy smile and soft kiss, though.

I snorted, the visual image too much.

“Colonel,” Dad said sternly, sticking out his hand.
Oh, here we go
. Mace shook it, but not before shooting me a look.

Yes, my father was a decorated army officer who had spent years defending the country. At sixty-one, he had only retired the previous year, which had given him even more time to try and interfere with my life.

Once we were all seated, the awkward silence I’d been awaiting drifted over us. Perfect time to bring up my win.

“So, I won my first case,” I offered, trying to lighten the mood. Going into law had been completely my decision, but I knew how proud it made both Mom and Dad. They loved the path I’d chosen, and were always happy to hear about work.

My diversion tactic worked. “Honey, that’s wonderful,” Dad gushed.

Hugs all around. I sighed, exhaling slowly. Maybe this wasn’t going to go so badly after all. But deep down, I knew this distraction was going to be short lived. Sooner or later, the focus would shift back to all the ways my father thought Mace wasn’t good enough for me.

“How’s retirement?” I asked Dad, desperately trying to delay the inevitable.

“Good. I’ve become quite the gardener,” he announced proudly. “I’ve mastered herbs, and I’m moving on to vegetables.”

“That’s great,” I said with way too much enthusiasm. Mace snorted, then attempted to cover it up with a cough. Dad narrowed his eyes, the smile disappearing from his face.

Here we go.

“So, Mace . . . Short for Mason, I presume?” Dad cocked an eyebrow and stabbed at his entrée of calamari. He shot Mace a look that I recognized well. I’d seen it used before on numerous boyfriends to scare the hell out of them. Usually it worked, too. But Mace didn’t seem fazed . . . yet.

“Nope. Just Mace.”

“Right.
Mace
. So what do you do?” Dad asked. I swallowed hard and reached for the water, wishing like hell it was something stronger.

“I fix bikes.”

“You fix bikes?” Dad repeated, dumbfounded. Like the idea that someone might actually be paid to fix bikes had never occurred to him. Well, this
was
Dad—it probably hadn’t.

“Yep.”

Oh God, you gotta give him more than that
.

These one-word answers were killing me, and I could tell they were pissing the hell out of Dad. I squeezed Mace’s leg under the table, hoping it conveyed my message clearly.

“I, uh, run my own business,” he finally added. Wow. He even managed a smile and some eye contact.

“Oh? That must be interesting.” Dad couldn’t have sounded more patronizing if he’d tried. Mace’s jaw clenched. I prayed to the gods to put a stop to the disaster I could see coming. “And your family? What line of work are they in?” He reached for a bread roll and began slicing it open.
Oh, God. Anything but family . . .

“Mom died when I was two, and Dad’s in jail.”

My father actually dropped his knife, smearing butter all over the sleeve of his Armani suit.
Oh, God.
I dropped my head in defeat.

“Yeah, you’ve probably heard of him. Ronald Jordan? I’m surprised Leeta didn’t tell you she was dating criminal royalty.”

Dad turned to me, his expression tight as he waited for an explanation. I glanced at Mom for help, but she was busy focusing on her roll as though it were a kidney she was preparing for a transplant.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds—”

“Leet, let me finish. I might as well tell him everything, right? A rival gang member of my dad’s murdered my mother in front of my brother and I. My sister committed suicide last year. My brother is in jail as well. The same jail as Dad, actually. Which makes it really handy for family gatherings.” He pushed his plate away, tossing his napkin on the table in front of him. “Anything else you want to know?” he challenged.

My heart broke for him. He had seen his mother
murdered?
I mean, I knew she’d been killed, but I’d had no idea he had witnessed it. I couldn’t even imagine how awful that would have been. I’d known she hadn’t been around since he was a kid, and that his dad had raised him and his brother—if you could call that parenting.

Mace was a very private person, especially when it came to his background. Some days he would let me in and I’d see this wonderful, fun guy, and other days, all I could see was the pain that consumed him.

“Leeta, maybe you should calm your
friend
down,” Dad said, his voice stiff. I rubbed my temples. How could I have possibly thought this would go well?

Calm him down? I was on the verge of storming out on his behalf. I was proud of Mace for remaining so calm.

“Maybe you should stop trying to make him uncomfortable?” I suggested sweetly to Dad.

“Maybe it’s best if I leave,” Mace interrupted. He dragged his chair back and stood up, his eyes clouded with anger. He turned to me. “Call me when you’re done, yeah?”

Shaking my head, I watched him storm out of the restaurant. I turned back to Dad. I was so angry I was trembling. I stood up and threw my napkin on the table.