"So, you won't let yourself have her because your swim coach fucked you up when you were seventeen, and that means I can't have her, either. Right?" Spencer froze immediately after the words left his lips. His whole body tensed up.
I didn't so much as flinch, ignoring his jibe at my past. "She's not an object. Neither you, nor I, canhave her."
Spencer's jaw flexed. "No, you're right. She's a person. A living, breathing, lovely person, and you're putting weird boundaries around her like you have any right to do that."
I tried to ignore that he'd stabbed my weak point, that he'd found the fleshy, soft area between the plates of my armor, but he'd struck true. My experience with my swim coach in high school had left a small but vulnerable spot at the center of my heart, and Spencer was right, even if he was an asshole for pointing it out.
I did feel unworthy of real affection. Even as that memory slithered around my thoughts, coating it in noxious oil, I tried to ignore the feel of my coach's hands on my body combined with her insulting words. I blinked once.
"I have a right because I live with her, and I don't want that kind of complication inmylife. Back off. That's final."
With a sound of disgust, Spencer ripped a fifty from his wallet and threw it on the table. "Have you asked her what she thinks of that rule?"
"I don't need to," I replied evenly. But my pulse raced, and my palms had grown clammy. The whispered words from my memory tortured my mind."You are pathetic, Knox. Your laps are too long. Your form is sloppy. Your body is soft, right here… do you feel that? Soft right here. And here."
"Right," Spencer scowled. "I'll see you on Thursday. Don't forget your mouthguard. If you lose too many teeth, you won't have any left to lie through."
I watched him go, and heat crept up my neck and to my face, which was the only indication that he had rattled me. And he had truly unsettled me. I kept those memories buried firmly in the past most of the time, but it didn't take much to unearth them when I'd done little to truly face them. The seemingly errant touches from my coach coupled with her scathing put-downs, the increasingly uncomfortable way she had given herself access to my body when we ran laps in private… all of it lurked under the surface just waiting to grab me in a stranglehold. I hadn't understood as a seventeen-year-old what grooming behavior looked like. I hadn't understood that an adult could belittle a child until they felt worthless enough to crave their abuse and eventually, their touch.
I'd managed to pull myself away from her insidious intentions before they had become too serious, but not without damage left behind. Not without emotional scars that would burn and itch and slash across every aspect of my romantic relationships as an adult. I'd done some work to overcome the hurdles I'd faced after the experience, but Spencer had the right of it. I felt unworthy of affection. And I feared what truly trusting would look like—would that, too, come with subtle put-downs and an ice pick to my confidence? Would physical touch from a person I wanted to trust cause me to feel sick to my stomach and like an alien in my own skin?
Gemma had asked why I never touched her. It wasn't because I had an aversion to touching her. It was like being afraid to touch a crystal clear well with muddied hands. Would touching her poison us both? Would it bring up the fears of my past and end up hurting her? I couldn't answer those questions because I had never felt this way about a woman before now. I'd had plenty of sexual partners in the past—usually partners who aligned with my tastes and didn't mind being tied up and controlled. But they had been, for the most part, emotionless experiences full ofpleasure but no promises for the future. I'd never been in danger of getting hurt.
Gemma could destroy me. I knew, deep in my being, that she held the power to set me free or bind me in the chains of my own fears. Gemma wasn't just an attractive woman I desired; she was everything I didn't deserve.
I ordered a beer, and while I waited, I stared ahead, eyes vacant and thoughts forcibly silenced. To my right, the businesswoman sipped a red wine, her eyes on her phone and her leg crossed over the other. She glanced at me, and I couldn't help but notice the action in my periphery, so I met her gaze cautiously. The beautiful woman smiled over the rim of her glass. "Quite the predicament you're in."
I looked away. "Not sure what you mean."
"I couldn't help but overhear that you might be having a little… legal trouble." She set her wine glass down and traced the rim. "Sounds kind of illegal, actually."
Sighing, I looked around to see if the waiter was bringing my beer. I didn't have the time or interest in offloading my personal issues on a stranger. "My colleague isn't as discreet as I am. I'd appreciate it if you pretended you heard nothing."
"Ooh," she winced. "See, I don't do that—pretend. But I am a lawyer, and I'm not half bad." She leaned back, angling toward me. It was then that I noticed the enormous wedding ring on her left hand and the fact that her phone screen lit up with a picture of a handsome, brunet man.
Somewhat more comfortable knowing she might be fishing for business rather than hitting on me, I gave her my attention. "Do you work in the area? You look familiar." She gestured with her head to the TV screen over the bar where news coverage of a celebrity wedding had been playing. I stared at the screen and realized it had beenherwedding they were airing. I rotated a silent question her way.
She cracked a smile, just as effervescent as she looked on the television. "Azura Brady. Just got back from my honeymoon. And you are?"
Oh fuck, I thought, taking her in with new eyes. Azura Brady wasn't just a celebrity. She was world-famous for being a shark in the courtroom and taking suckers for all they were worth. "Knox Rook… and it seems like I might be in luck," I admitted. "I'm guessing you don't usually take appointments."
"Not usually," she agreed, picking up her wine glass again. Her dark eyes sparked with interest. "But it's hard to ignore blood in the water once I smell it." She swirled the claret wine slowly, and her features sharpened like the piercing incisor of a great white. "Let's hear your case."
Chapter thirteen
Gemma
Rule 33: ABSOLUTELY NO FARM ANIMALS.
Istared dumbly at the lamb in the man's arms as he spoke to me. Whatever he was saying, it droned in my ears like the teacher in Peanuts as the entirety of my consciousness fixated on the fact that a man had brought a fuckingfarm animalinto my office.
"… haven't any idea what he was thinking, gifting this to me, but you really should strike him off the list as a potential candidate." The client snapped his fingers to pull my attention away from the fluffy white creature lying docilely in his toned arms. "Are you hearing me?" Joshua Tenor had a Californian, sun-kissed appearance and a carefully sculpted body that clearly belonged on a beach somewhere. So, seeing baby livestock in his arms had really thrown me for a loop.
I blinked rapidly. "So, your date… got you a sheep as a gift?"
"Yes," my client glared. He set the sheep on my desk, and it skittered, shuffling awkwardly on its stick legs and knocking over a stack of papers to my right. "And it's your problem now. Vet these weirdos better next time."
I stood from my chair, hands hovering over the lamb despite having no idea what the hell I meant to do with it. The baby sniffed the air for a second before lying down on my desk like it was meant to be there. It bleated, inspecting the fallen stack of papers. I turned an outraged look on my client who was already backing out of my office. "Mr. Tenor, you can't just—"
