Breaching the Contract Read online

  “Sorry,” I say to him, and step aside, my arm accidentally brushing the material of his gray suit. I touch my arm where the material did, and stop as his direct gaze pins me in my place. Did I see a flash of heat in there? Lust?

  He studies me for a few quick seconds, then murmurs, “You have ink on your mouth,” before heading back inside the office without a backward glance.

  I pull my compact mirror out of my bag as I head toward the juice bar and have a look. Ugh, he’s right. There’s blue ink smudged all over my bottom lip, which must be from me biting my pen while I was working on a brief earlier.

  Goddammit.

  I cover my face with my hands and groan.

  Why can’t Tristan and I ever have a normal interaction? It’s always tense, awkward, or embarrassing.

  By the time I get to the juice bar, my mind is a mess. I order a green smoothie and, as I wait, rub my lips with my finger. Those are the words he had to say to me? I hope I catch him with his shirt on backward or something next time. Smoothie in hand, I head back to the office and sit at my desk, putting my earphones in as I read the report Jaxon wanted me to look over for him. Ed Sheeran’s soothing voice hits my ears, and between that and concentrating on the papers in front of me, I don’t notice anyone entering my office until Tristan is standing right in front of me. I glance up at him and pull one of my earphones out.

  “Jaxon just called,” he says to me, frowning. “You weren’t picking up your phone.”

  I glance to my phone next to me, seeing three missed calls. “Shit, I forgot to take it off silent. Is everything okay?”

  “He’s running late and wants you to start the interview with his next client,” Tristan says, pursing his lips and handing me a file.

  “No problem,” I say, taking it from him. Our thumbs accidentally touch in the handover, and when I hastily pull my hand away, the file falls onto the table, papers scattering. I quickly pick them up but keep my head down, silently cursing myself. When I straighten, file in hand, Tristan is still standing there watching me.

  “Is there anything else?” I ask, keeping my tone even when all I want to do is snap at him.

  He bends and picks up one piece of paper I’d missed because it’d fallen on the floor, and hands it to me.

  “Don’t mess this up” is all he says, and he glances at his watch. “They’re already waiting in his office, and you’re now officially late. I don’t know why Jaxon has so much faith in you.”

  “Lucky I’m working with him then,” I say to him.

  And late?

  By what, thirty seconds?

  I glance at the clock on the wall, and yes, I’m about one minute late, but only because he won’t leave my office.

  I walk around him and exit without saying another word.

  The man is infuriating. No wonder my friend from law school, Callie, said he has a reputation for making associates and interns cry, and hardly anything intimidates Callie. At the time, I didn’t understand why she didn’t apply for this position, but now it makes perfect sense. He’s tough in the beat-you-down-and-tell-you-when-you-are-messing-up way. He’s clearly not a compassionate, approachable man. He’s good at what he does, yes. He has a reputation just as good as Jaxon’s, but he’s . . . I don’t know.

  Meaner.

  Less empathetic.

  Always brooding.

  I rush to Jaxon’s office, opening the door and smiling at the man sitting down. He stands as soon as I approach him.

  “Hello, Mr. Davensworth. I’m Kat, and I’ll be stepping in for Mr. Bentley this afternoon and helping him with your case,” I say, shaking his hand. He grips my hand, then lets it go and nods once. He’s good-looking, in a rough kind of way. Brown eyes, and a mop of dark hair that he’s hidden beneath a black cap. He sits back down only when I do. A gentleman.

  I open his file—the papers upside down. I silently curse Tristan, turn them the right way around, and then glance up. “So it says here you and Mr. Bentley spoke on the phone regarding allegations made by your old workplace, is this correct?”

  “Yes,” he replies, tone emotionless. “They’ve accused me of stealing money from the company.”

  “Why don’t we start from the beginning. Can you tell me about everything that has happened so far?” I ask him.

  He starts telling me everything, from start to end, and I write it all down for Jaxon. I also take initiative to write down any notes or ideas I have for the case, things I need to look into and research.

  “Thank you for explaining all of that,” I tell him, placing my pen down.

  “Do you think I have a chance of proving that I’m innocent?” he asks, and it’s the first time he’d admitted that he didn’t do it.

  I’m about to reply when Jaxon walks in, saving me.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he says to the both of us. I stand from his seat and gesture for him to take it.

  “Do you need me to do anything else, Mr. Bentley?” I ask him.

  “No, I’ve got it from here, Kat,” he tells me, his eyes thanking me for covering for him.

  I nod and quickly exit the room, closing the door softly behind me. I head to Yvonne’s desk to see what she’s up to before I get back to work, only to see her having a chat with Tristan.

  He’s suddenly everywhere.

  “Your client canceled,” Yvonne tells him, tapping her long red nails on the desk. “And the rest of your day is free.”

  “So I get to go home and actually spend some time with my kids?” he asks her, brow rising.

  Yvonne smiles and nods. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  “Oh, I will,” Tristan says, smiling at her and then leaving.

  He has kids?

  And even more surprising, he smiles like that?

  With his eyes?

  Maybe there’s more to him than I think.

  chapter 3

  WHEN I HEAR MY door open the next morning, without looking up, I say, “I’ve made a breakthrough on the Curtis case, Jaxon,” referring to the one he gave solely to me to take care of. “I’m confident there will be enough evidence to prove his innocence.”

  “Jaxon isn’t coming in today,” Tristan says, making my head snap up. He sighs and sits down opposite me. “Or tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask him, leaning back in my seat and studying him. “Is everything okay?”

  “He’s had a family emergency,” he explains, expression blank. “He’s taking some time off, and has asked me to take over his cases until he returns. Including the ones you’re working on.”

  I grit my teeth together. While I feel awful Jaxon clearly has something bad enough for him to take some time off work, the thought of Tristan being my new mentor is like a bad dream.

  A worst-fucking-case scenario.

  “I see,” I murmur, clearing my throat. I glance down at the case file longingly. “Will I still be working on his cases, and the Curtis case? Or . . .”

  “No, you’ll be working on mine, with me,” he states, standing. “I’ll only be taking on some of his cases though. I’ll give his more high-profile clients the option to come to me or to find another lawyer to represent them.”

  “Right,” I say, shoulders hunching. I’d already put so much work into the projects Jaxon gave me, and now they’re being taken away from me. Still processing this big change, I take a deep breath and dare to ask him, “What would you like me to work on today?”

  “I want you to get me a coffee, black, two sugars, and then come find me in my office so I can give you further instructions,” he says, heading to the door. “I’ll see you in ten.”

  He leaves the room, and I scowl.

  Jaxon never sent me to get coffee, unless I was getting some for myself anyway. Jaxon would actually bring me coffee, not the other way around. He treated me like an equal.

&nb
sp; His equal.

  Shit.

  I have a bad feeling about this.

  TAPPING MY FOOT ON the grass, my jaw tighter than it’s ever been, I wonder how the fuck I got here. To this moment. Standing in front of an elementary school. I worked my ass off in law school. I graduated at the top—not the top 5 percent or the top five—the very top of my class. I had offers from every prestigious firm in the state and had every opportunity presented to me as a law school graduate. And after all that, instead of working on interesting cases and saving the world, I’m picking up kids from school. Kids who aren’t mine. Basically, today, I’m a nanny. When Tristan had told me his nanny had called in sick and he needed me to pick up the kids and take them home, I’d thought he was joking. I’ve never even met his kids before, for one, and second, this is most definitely not in my job description. I’m not his assistant; I’m his employee and here to learn from him so I can be the best lawyer I can be. I’m not here for this.

  Silently fuming, I glance around and wonder which kids are his. He told me to take his car so they’d recognize it and said he’d called the school to pass a message to them saying someone who works for him will be there to pick them up. When a little boy walks up to me and just stares at me, I assume he’s Tristan’s kid. He has big green eyes, and I have no doubt he’s going to break hearts with those one day.

  “Logan?” I ask, glancing down at him. He looks to be about six, maybe seven, and has one of those haircuts that requires him to flip his dark bangs back.

  “Yes,” he says, squinting his eyes at me. “Who are you? I thought Dad was going to pick us up today.”

  “He got busy with work and sent me instead,” I tell him, shifting on my feet. I’m not very good with kids. I don’t think I even know any kids, and conversing with one is a little awkward.

  I wonder where their mother is, and why Tristan seems to be a full-time single dad. Maybe they share custody and he has them for a week and then they swap, or something.

  “Where’s your sister?” I ask him, looking around. I want this to be over as soon as possible.

  “She takes her time,” he says, opening the car door and throwing his bag in. “She chats with her friends and walks slowly.”

  Great.

  A few minutes later, a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl walks up to me, and going by the scowl on her face, she’s less impressed than Logan is that her father isn’t the one standing here right now. I notice that her eyes are just like Tristan’s. “I should have known Dad wouldn’t have made it,” she says, lifting her chin. She glances to the passenger seat, where she sees her brother sitting and throws her hands in the air. “That’s my seat. I’m the oldest!”

  Great, the good old who-gets-to-sit-in-the-front-seat war kids have been having for generations, and now I get to experience it with random kids I just met.

  “I’m sure you can sit in the back this one time,” I tell her, ushering her in. She gets in, but lets me know she’s not happy, with her deep sigh and cold demeanor.

  I ignore her and get back into the driver’s seat. The car is now silent, and I’m feeling a little uncomfortable, so I turn on the radio and put Tristan’s address into the GPS. Apparently I have to stay there and babysit until he’s done with his client, and only then do I get to head back to work. Yay for me. I quickly glance at Logan in the seat next to me before bringing my gaze back to the road. Am I supposed to feed them? I remember always being super hungry after school when I was a kid. We didn’t have a lot of money—my dad was a single father and worked in a restaurant as a manager—but he always managed to put together something delicious for me to eat.

  “Are you guys hungry?” I ask them, glancing at Laura in the rearview mirror.

  “Anne makes us healthy snacks after school,” she tells me. “Usually a fruit platter, or something like that.”

  “I like avocado,” Logan announces.

  I blink slowly a few times. Anne must be their nanny. “Well Anne’s not here, so we’re going to have to make do.”

  I pull into a McDonald’s drive-through, smirking when I see Logan’s face light up.

  “You’re letting us have McDonald’s? Awesome.”

  “Dad isn’t going to like this,” the little know-it-all inserts from behind me. “He says a healthy, balanced diet keeps your mind and body strong.”

  “A burger every now and again won’t kill you,” I tell them.

  I’m living proof of that.

  I fucking love burgers, and any kind of junk food.

  “Mom used to let us get burgers sometimes,” Laura says, her voice lowering with each word.

  “Mom’s not here anymore,” Logan then says, breaking my heart.

  Where is their mom?

  I place my order for myself, then ask what they want, and order that. When the food’s ready, I pass Logan the big bag of food, which comes up to his chin. I look over at him, amused, and he flashes me a big grin.

  Okay, he’s a bit cute.

  When we get to Tristan’s house, my eyes widen and my jaw drops. It’s huge.

  “I can’t wait to make partner,” I say out loud to myself, because I’m going to live in a massive house just like this one. I unlock the door and let the kids go in first, locking it behind me after I enter. I walk through the wide hallway, looking at the photos hanging on the light gray walls that lead me to the kitchen. I place the food on the counter and do a circle, turning and taking in everything.

  “Wow” is all I can say. Tristan has good taste. Black-and-gray marble counters, all stainless steel appliances, and a modern vibe that I really like. The kids sit down at the white dining table with their burgers and fries, and I join them.

  Logan’s eyes flutter shut at the first bite of his cheeseburger. “Yum.”

  Laura stays quiet but finishes her food before anyone, so I know she secretly loved it.

  “So how was your day?” I ask them, trying to make small talk. Another thing my dad always did with me, we’d chat about our days over our meals and tell each other everything that happened.

  “Okay,” Laura tells me, shrugging. She arches her brow and says, “You never even told us your name.”

  “Oh,” I say, taken aback. “I guess I didn’t. It’s Kat.”

  Great, I just walked into their house and fed them food they aren’t allowed to eat without them even knowing my name. Good thing I’m not a real nanny; I’m failing as one. “Meow,” Logan says, making me laugh as I pop a fry into my mouth.

  “How was your day, Logan?” I ask him, wishing I had gotten some soda to wash the food down. I wonder what Tristan has in his fridge.

  “Good,” he says, licking the salt off his fingers. “We did some stuff.”

  “Very explanatory,” I reply, standing up and heading to the fridge. When I open it, all I find is bottled water and juice. I grab the juice and three cups and return to the table. “So what do you guys usually do after school?”

  “Homework, then music practice,” Laura says, taking a sip from her pink cup. “Then we get free time to do whatever we want.”

  “Sounds fair. What instruments do you both play?” I ask, scrunching my burger wrapper up and placing it in the bag.

  “I play violin,” Logan announces proudly. “Laura plays the viola.”

  The violin and the viola are different instruments? Ha, I guess you learn new things every day.

  “I guess it’s homework time then,” I announce, cleaning up the table. I might as well use this time to get some of my work done too.

  Logan grabs on to my arm and hugs it. “I like you,” he tells me.

  I smile down at him.

  Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.

  chapter 4

  LOGAN IS PRETTY AWFUL at the violin, but I suck it up and let him play, with a smile on my face. Laura, older, with more experience, plays well and act
ually in tune, for which I’m grateful. I’m with them for about two hours before Tristan walks into the house, my Camry keys in his hand. I didn’t really feel comfortable driving the expensive dark blue Maserati, but he didn’t leave me much of a choice. Logan runs up to Tristan and hugs his leg, while Laura acts cool with a casual “Hey, Dad.”

  Tristan lifts his son in his arms and hugs him, smiling wider than I’ve ever seen, and then moves to his daughter and kisses the top of her head. When he brings those blue eyes to me, however, that smile drops. Seriously, what did I ever do to the man?

  “You can head back to the office to finish up any work you have. I left you a list of things I need done by morning,” he tells me, handing me my keys back.

  No “Thank you.”

  No “I know this isn’t in your job description, but I was in a tight spot and I appreciate it.”

  Nothing.

  Unbelievable, infuriating man.

  “Yes, sir,” I reply in a dry tone.

  “Do you have to go now?” Logan asks me, bottom lip pouting. “We were just about to watch Disney movies!”

  I glance at Tristan to see the surprise on his face, his eyes widening as he looks down at his son.

  “I can’t, buddy. I’ve got to get back to work,” I tell Logan’s cute little face. Sharing a grin with him, he threads his arm through mine and glances up at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

  “You’re quite cute,” I tell him.

  “Will you come back and see me?” he asks, studying me thoughtfully. I notice he has little brown freckles on his nose.