Page 4 of Staking His Claim
She glanced at her watch, a neat little Cartier number that had made me see red the first time I saw it because my imagination had immediately conjured up a boyfriend or lover gifting it to her in a prelude to getting her naked.
It had triggered a frantic call to my firm’s private investigator who, to his credit, hadn't questioned me when I asked for a full personal background search on one Emily Hartley.
I’d paced my office like a caged wild animal until he'd come through with the preliminary report and confirmation that no, Miss Hartley was not seeing anyone. Hadn't seen anyone since she broke up with her boyfriend at her twenty-first birthday party four years ago.
She’d been on a few inconsequential dates, and those I was willing to let go. The revelation the next day that the watch was a gift from her parents for that same milestone age four years ago had been a much welcome relief.
Any meaningful present and attention Emily Hartley received going forward would be from me and no one else.
I watched her until she started to look up from her watch, then dropped my gaze to my open laptop. “That should be in about forty-five minutes,” she added.
I nodded again then glanced over to the sectional sofa at the far right of my office. “You can get on with the case notes you were reviewing earlier, then.”
“Yes, Mr. Knight.”
I bit my tongue to stop me asking her to call me Fletcher.
That would come soon enough.
My hands shook as wild anticipation unraveled through me, my imagination sparking off on when exactly she would do that, preferably on her knees, those blue eyes wide and locked onto mine as her small hands reached for me.
“May I suck you off, Fletcher?” she would whisper.
I stifled a full groan as she turned and walked to the sofa, my eyes lingering unashamedly on her ass and those beautifully shapely legs I wanted wrapped around my hips more than I wanted my next breath.
Forty-five minutes.
Montgomery liked to prattle on a little in his courtroom, so I would conservatively make that an hour and a half, especially if he was going to be a stickler and insist on reading through thefinalized papers before he signed off on my divorce and made me a free man. Hopefully the little sweetener of his favorite wines under the guise of a birthday present I sent would help things along.
Every minute I had to wait would feel like a year, but there was no help for it. Clearing my throat, I dragged my gaze from her delicious behind and attempted to do some work of my own.
2
Emily
Today was the day.
I tried to contain the emotions rampaging through me as I picked up the file, laid it on my lap and opened it.
It was a good thing I’d familiarized myself with this case by coming in at five-thirty this morning.
I knew I would be useless if miracles happened, and Violet Knight actually went through with signing the papers this time around.
For the last three months, ever since Fletcher brought me onto his divorce case, I’d watched the woman throw every wrench she could find into the divorce proceedings. Sometimes it would be something as insane and frivolous as canceling a scheduled meeting at the last minute to say she was going on a three-week mental health vacation to Europe.
I would watch Fletcher climb the walls, his temperature at boiling point as he prowled his office.
Often, he’d released all that pent-up rage in the firm’s private gym by running the equivalent of a half marathon on the treadmill at insane speeds. Other times he would lift weights and work up such streams of sweats he’d be dripping with it.
I knew this because I had secretly stalked him those and many other times, secretly and fervently wishing I could help with that release.
I wasn’t sure exactly when my obsession with my boss started.
Sure, I knew all about him from the sheer number of landmark cases he’d won in Chicago long before I left law school. Anyone who was anyone in the legal field knew about Fletcher Knight.
I hadn't believed my luck when I heard he was looking to interview paralegals after his last one went on maternity leave and then decided to quit to become a stay-at-home mom.
On the morning of my interview, my spirits fell when I saw the caliber of vastly more experienced paralegals up for the job.
