Her Counselor (Love Hack, #3) Read online

  And how much would she regret if she stayed? She closed the distance between them, kissed him on the cheek, and then backed away before he could respond. “I can. I don’t have a choice.”

  NOW

  Damon dialed the home office the moment he walked through his hotel room door. While he listened to the phone ring, he stripped off his clothes. He could breathe again—at least mostly; Vivian’s scent clung to him, taunting and seducing—he knew he was fucked if he didn’t stop this now. Even though he said last night they’d check their real lives at the door, he didn’t think he could do that.

  And he wasn’t going to jeopardize their careers over it.

  “You know it’s still ungodly o’clock here, right?” Camille’s sharp question was punctuated by a yawn.

  Right. Three hours earlier back home. “Sorry.” He didn’t care if he sounded less than sincere. “It can’t wait.” There were so many reasons why this had to happen now, and none of them were on a list he could give Camille. He’d sworn fourteen years ago he’d never let another woman get under his skin the way Vivian did, and he’d kept that promise to himself.

  It hit him hard last night, in the restaurant; he never got over her. But this was more than the fact he still very much loved her. The problem—one of them at least—was that this time their careers would suffer if he acted. He’d face disbarment. She could lose her job. And he’d still let his dick coax him into her apartment. Let his heart convince him one last time this morning wouldn’t hurt.

  “Then... What’s so important?” Camille asked.

  “Take me off this case now.” He was done asking, negotiating, pretending to bow. “Bring me back home. I’ll clear up this mess with the GG Foundation and IasoChem. Life will go on.” With each word, he convinced his brain more, and his heart clenched a little harder. It would be so easy, a voice whispered in the back of his thoughts. Quit. You can do GG Foundation work as a consultant. You’d be done with this backstabbing bullshit.

  Great. Now he was trying to rationalize himself out of a career. No.

  “Hayden’s not going to let you go,” Camille said.

  “And why do we care? NSS isn’t out biggest client, and yeah, we’ve got a lot of potential built up in this case, but they’re not going to drop us. Not even if they could find someone else to take this last minute.”

  “That doesn’t mean we can go out of our way, to piss them off.” The drowsiness was gone from Camille’s voice. “We want them as clients, now and once this case is over, especially if they keep doing things like this.”

  He ground his teeth at the implication—the glee she seemed to feel—that NSS wasn’t done with the ethical and illegal fuck-ups. Not by a long shot. “Pull me, or I resign.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “As a videotaped confession, after someone refuses their Miranda rights.”

  “If you walk away from a senior partnership, you only hurt your career. People would line up, to lick my boots for your job.”

  “But how many of them will be as good at it as I am?” he asked. Her hesitation was the only confirmation he needed. “Bring me home. Assign someone else to this case. Fuck Hayden.” He almost mentioned there was a conflict of interest, but everyone knew the basics of his past with Vivian, and if it hadn’t been enough to keep him home before, there was no reason to draw attention to it.

  “Are you going in this morning?” she asked.

  “If I need to. But I prefer we start the transition sooner, rather than later. We’re all in town anyway. We bill either way, right?” That would be the carrot she needed.

  She laughed. “At least you’re still you, Vicker.”

  He wasn’t so sure of that. Or maybe the him he’d locked away in college was tired of being stowed. Too bad. “Is that a yes?”

  “Sit tight, until I find someone to take your place. As long as you’re there, you’re on their clock. I’ll have more details for you by this weekend. Call everyone else and tell them not to bother going in today. Leave Hayden until last.”

  That made him smile. He sank onto the edge of the bed after they disconnected. This was going to suck, but he saw no other way. Especially as long as his firm represented NSS. He’d known that from the start, but it was too easy to forget when Vivian was around. Removing himself from the equation was the only solution he could think of that kept them both employed.

  THE MORNING WITH DAMON played on a loop in Vivian’s head, mingling with fragments of the past and their breakup, and taunting her. She pounded on the dashboard of her car in frustration. “Fuck.” She dragged the word out. She never should have let him back in this morning. Or last night. Or Monday. She might be a masochist, but this was fucking torture. Unlike fourteen years ago, she knew what she had to do to move on—put as much space as possible between them, and ignore every single urge until she believed she’d done the right thing.

  She didn’t care she left the house so late, she’d be stuck in traffic an extra half hour. It gave her time to think without interruption. The cars around hers inched forward, and she eased her foot off the brake enough to do the same.

  The thing with Damon sent waves of terror through her, every time she thought about it. Not because of him. She didn’t doubt for a moment he would have stopped at any moment if she wanted. It was a fear of her own response. She was supposed to stay in control of herself. She wasn’t supposed to want to surrender everything to him, or to anyone. Last night was a one-time thing; they both agreed. Yet, so she gave in so easily again this morning. There was no part of her that wanted him to stop.

  She’d already lost herself in him once. Forgotten who she was, and let him dictate her future, not because he demanded it, but because back then she hadn’t been strong enough to insist otherwise. Last night was sex. Taking it further today was about her identity, and she wouldn’t give that up. She was her own person.

  Her phone rang from its mount on her dashboard, the jarring chime echoing through her stereo system. A glance showed her Tate’s face on screen. “Answer,” she said to the empty car. She waited for the telltale click of the line picking up. “What’s up?”

  Background noise on the other end of the line assaulted her. Indistinguishable chatter—and was that a PA system echoing through the receiver? “You busy?” Tate sounded out of breath and... excited?

  “Stuck in traffic on 400. So, not really. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Never better. Seriously. Um, look. So, we’re at the hospital, and I know you don’t want to, but I’m going to need you to take the NSS case back.”

  Concern spiked through her, but it was tempered by his upbeat tone. He sounded flustered but fine. “T? What’s going on?”

  He laughed. “Right. That. Lys went into labor two weeks early. I have to get back to her, so I don’t have a lot of time, and I spent most of it telling her folks. NSS Legal already called the office. Apparently they’re delaying until next week anyway, so you’ve got time to regroup. Sorry to dump this back on you, but...”

  A rainbow of ambivalence spilled through Vivian. She kept her tone light. “It’s okay. Best reason ever for passing me back something that was my job to begin with. Go be with Alyssia. And congratulations.”

  “Thanks. Talk soon.” With that, the call ended.

  She sank back in her seat, as music filled the car once again. She’d never heard Tate that excited about anything before. Except maybe when he announced his engagement to Alyssia. Vivian was genuinely happy for them both, though she was surprised to see Tate slide into this role so easily.

  A new list of things to do ticked through her head. Send flowers. Make time to visit when they were ready. Split Tate’s work up with Jared. Try to not dwell on spending the next couple of weeks in a conference room, with a man she couldn’t control herself around.

  She shook the selfish thought aside, and a new one slammed into the now empty place in her head. Tate said NSS delayed things the remainder of the week. Why?

  Chapter
Twelve

  “YOU TAKE CHARGE OF server management with the crowdfunding stuff.” Vivian ticked off the next item on the list of tasks she and Jared would split, with Tate out of the office. All three of them had discussed this vaguely over the past few months, but saved the details because they had time. Dealing with the depositions added to the list, because it would take Vivian away from the day-to-day as well. She saw a lot of long hours in her future, and she was okay with that.

  Jared made another note on his phone. “As long as you deal with the community managers.”

  “Alan can do that, but I’ll oversee.” Diving into work like this made it easier to forget last night and this morning. Except, every time she paused and let her mind drift where it would, she was aware of the hum on her skin. The longing that hovered at the back of her thoughts, waiting to ask if she was sure she could move on. The trick was to not pause. Having Jared in the room also helped keep her distracted. “Are the two of you excited about being Uncle Jared and Aunt Mikki?”

  He made another note. “I prefer Grand High Lord of Toys.”

  “You prefer? You didn’t come up with that.” Vivian didn’t have to ask. The name had to be Mikki’s idea.

  “Nope. But you can’t deny it’s got a nice ring to it.”

  “You’ve changed a lot since you met her.” Vivian wasn’t sure where the comment had come from. It was like stating chocolate was different from vanilla. Now the words were out, her thoughts followed the path. “Does it ever bother you?”

  “No. He’s got a focus group to build use cases in a week, for site improvements. Marketing is supposed to be handling it, but can you keep an eye on it?”

  “Sure.” She added more notes. “Not at all?” She didn’t know why she was pushing the issue. His refusal was pretty straightforward, and it was obvious to anyone how good he and Mikki were together. Vivian was looking for something though, and a simple no wasn’t it. “You don’t do the whole focus-to-the-point-of-obsession thing, the way you used to.”

  He glanced up from his phone, eyebrow raised, before turning back to his list again. “I do; it’s just been redirected. I never stopped being myself with her, but I’m a more complete version of me.”

  That didn’t make any sense. “It’s not a complete you, if you needed someone else to fill in the blanks.”

  “It is to me. I’ve never felt like I had to give myself up, to be with her. Sure, we compromise, but I don’t regret it. It’s like”—he studied the ceiling for a moment, as if it might hold the answers—“she brings out sides of me I didn’t want to admit were there before. Not bad bits, but pieces it was easier to shove aside when I only saw the world from my perspective.”

  His words tugged at something, but she couldn’t grasp it. “What about all her impulsive ideas?” She sounded petty. “Not that I have any issues with Mikki. You know I don’t. But the two of you are night and day.”

  “I know. And sometimes I’m in the mood for whatever she suggests, and sometimes I’m not, and it works both ways. That’s where the compromise comes in, and I never love her any less because of it. What’s with all the questions?”

  “I don’t know. My head’s all over the place today. What’s left on the list, besides audits?”

  He set his phone down on the edge of her desk and leaned in, resting his arms on the wood. “I’m going to say something, and it might piss you off.”

  “I appreciate the warning.” She winked at him. Jared was never known for his tact.

  He laughed. “I know you and Tate think I miss a lot, when it comes to people.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to object or apologize or something. “It’s okay. I get it. You two have your living, breathing, thinking... things, and I personally think computers are a lot more predictable.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “But I’m going to give you the same advice you gave me after Karen, and I hope you don’t use it the same way you intended me to.”

  Vivian looked at Jared, waiting.

  He picked up his phone, but did nothing but turn it over in his hands. “I’m sure I’m not getting this exactly right, but the gist of it was, just because you take on one role behind closed doors, doesn’t mean that’s all you are. Sex is personal, work is business, and people are complicated and capable of wearing more than one mask, while still being true to themselves.”

  “I never said anything that wise. If I did, I was trying to make a point about staying detached in the bedroom.” Which she hadn’t done. Which was why her mind was so scattered.

  “That was your point, yes. It’s not mine. You’re going to have to take the annual audit. I suck at that complicated-numbers shit.”

  She would have asked him what he meant, but she didn’t want to know the answer. Instinct told her figuring it out had the potential to make an even bigger mess of her already muddled thoughts. “I’ll start on the audits today. See how much I can get done before Monday.”

  Jared’s phone buzzed, and as he swiped the screen, a silly smile spread over his face. “It’s a girl. Holly Elizabeth Foster.”

  “You have pictures?”

  He shared photos of the baby—a shock of dark hair like Alyssia, blue eyes like both the kid’s parents, and a scrunched up infant face that said enough pictures, let me sleep. Vivian stowed the pang the images summoned. After that, the conversation mostly fell apart. They had to get back to work.

  The problem was, without Jared there to keep her occupied, her mind was free to wander to places she didn’t want it to go. She threw herself into her task list. There was plenty to do. The rumor was, NSS Legal delayed the questioning today and tomorrow because they were swapping out members of their staff. Damon wasn’t supposed to be here originally, so with any luck, he’d be gone soon.

  And I can miss him from the other side of the country instead of just halfway across the city.

  She pushed the thought aside. It was as good a time as any to move on again.

  As the hours ticked away, she managed to lose herself in the pre-audit paper trail. It was a nit-picky level of detail that required intense focus. When she reached the section about the crowdfunding group spending, something caught her eye. It was just an email newsletter. The kind of marketing crap so many companies sent to subscribers. It looked status-quo, besides the fact it was from NSS, and Tate still had it in the audit folder. But something about it felt wrong in her gut. What was she missing?

  A knock on her office door dragged her from her work, and she looked up to see Jared standing there. She blinked and rubbed her eyes when she realized most of the lights were out in the hall behind him.

  “You planning on spending the night?” he asked.

  A glance at her computer told her it was after seven. How had she worked through lunch and everyone leaving for the evening? “No. Just lost track of time.”

  “We’re heading to the hospital, and Alyssia wants me to make sure you come with us.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “I didn’t ask. Because new baby, and you might as well be family?”

  The words flicked on a spot of warmth inside. “You don’t really see me that way.”

  “We do.” He nodded into the hallway. “Come on.”

  If she was going to turn into an old maid, she’d do so with a surrogate family. The abrupt, bitter thought knocked her off-kilter. That wasn’t her; she liked the direction her life was taking. The self-assurance felt genuine, but the thought continued to haunt her as they headed outside.

  DAMON SPENT MOST OF the day Thursday and Friday sifting through a backlog of GG Foundation paperwork and seeing if anything needed his attention. Officially, he was working on the NSS case for his firm, so he couldn’t pick up any new law firm clients. Camille was smoothing things over, and new assignments were pending. He suspected they’d be pending until after the weekend, so they could keep him here and bill for his time.

  And in the last forty-eight hours, he’d only thought about Vivian every te
n minutes. Never once been tempted—not too much so—to call her.

  He leaned back in the hotel chair and stared at the ceiling. He felt like a fucking junkie, itching for a fix. Best way to cure that was to cut off the source of his addiction. Part of him wanted to tell Vivian in person that he was leaving, but he knew that was about the worst way to move on. He’d ask to meet someplace private, she’d agree, they’d talk their way out of their clothes...

  He pushed the flood of images aside, before they could become a vivid assault on his senses. The best solution was a clean break, in every way possible.

  He sent her a quick email, and for the sake of professionalism, copied her colleagues on it. I’m being assigned to a new case, and someone else will be taking my place Monday or Tuesday. I’m not sure who yet. It’s been a pleasure working with you.

  Sending the message this way meant she couldn’t reply with anything more incriminating. She wouldn’t risk putting anything like that in writing. It wasn’t a fair move, but it was the only way he could think of.

  Next up, Step Two. He grabbed his wallet and his rental-car keys, and left the room. It wasn’t quite five yet, so the strip club the front desk recommended would be relatively empty for the next couple of hours. By the time the weekend crowd spilled in, Damon would be well on his way through Step Three of getting over this disaster of a week. This intense, incredible, unforgettable disaster of a week.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ONE OF THE NICE THINGS about being in Atlanta was the great tittie bars—alcohol, gorgeous girls, and full nudity. Damon sank further in his seat and nursed his second beer. This place was all that, tied up in a pretty little bow, and two hours after arriving, he wondered what he was doing here.

  One of the dancers pulled out a spare chair next to him, placed a bottle of Jack on his table, along with two shot glasses, and took a seat.

  Damon raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. He’d noticed her about twenty minutes ago, during her set on stage. She was attractive enough. Maybe five-foot-four, full hips and breasts, narrow waist, red hair pulled into pigtails. As far as he could tell, she was going for the girl-next-door look. Except the hair color was no more real than the exaggerated freckles on her cheeks.