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The Clients – Forbidden Fantasies
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They asked me to do something no woman should.
Michelle is a junior lawyer. She’s smart but naïve, and when a job goes wrong, there’s only one way to make up for it: by pleasing the client in other ways.
Tom and Gabriel Costas are demanding billionaire brothers with an eye for vivacious women. When Michelle is sold by her boss as reparation, they don’t hesitate to claim their due. The problem? She’s sassy, curvy, mouthy … and now, she’s pregnant with their child.
Arrogant. Demanding. Complete a$$holes, yet utterly irresistible. Even better, the Costas brothers love taming women, and Michelle is about to get a filthy lesson or two. Lose yourself in this forbidden encounter that breaks all the rules of a traditional client relationship. No cliffhangers, no cheating, and always an HEA for my readers.
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I lean heavily against the bathroom counter, fighting the urge to flee work and go home to the comfort of my bed.
Breathe in and out, I coach myself, my hands going white from gripping the cold tile.
I just scanned an email from another junior lawyer informing me that our boss, Jensen, is pissed. It’s something about the brief I wrote last week. Shit. This means that I’m going to have to see Jensen, and endure his creepy ways as he rails me out. Now, I’m in the bathroom trying to brace myself. I hate his guts, but what can I do? Jensen’s signature is literally on my paycheck.
The door to the women’s restroom opens and another lawyer walks in. We glance at each other quickly, and I turn on the faucet in order to pretend I wasn’t just having a meltdown. I pat my face with a damp paper towel and square my shoulders.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. It’s almost the weekend, and you don’t have any cases to work on again until Monday, Michelle. You’ll be fine. You can do this.
Squaring my shoulders, I stride outside and try to walk regally back to my cube. Consequences, schmonsequences. I can handle this.
My head held high, I sit in my cube. It’s not much more than fifteen square feet, but I’ve done my best to make the bland, gray walls less depressing. Our law firm boasts bigwig clients, so we’re not allowed to decorate our spaces with anything cutesy. But some cool travel photos, a quirky lamp, and colorful office supplies are my way of making the space my own.
I grip the arms of my chair – a piece of furniture chosen by the firm more for aesthetics than comfort – and then let go. My knuckles are white, and I shake my hands a bit to relieve the strain. Then, I tap my keyboard to wake up my computer. While I wait for the machine to revive, I sift mindlessly through the stacks of documents and folders spread across my messy desk.
I love being an attorney, but working at Draper Peabody LLP has been a let down, to put things lightly. I joined the firm fresh after graduation less than a year ago, hoping that I’d make enough money to pay back my loans. Maybe I’d even get to do some meaningful work during my time here.
I roll my eyes at my youthful ignorance. My salary is okay, although I’m hardly able to pay even the minimum on my loans. But the day-to-day work has been dreadful. It’s all about boring companies with boring corporate problems. I thought I’d be doing high-flying litigation, but instead it’s corporations suing each other just for the hell of it. At least that’s what it feels like sometimes.
Ugh. I also have to work one-on-one with Jensen Draper. No law school can prepare you for that experience. I shudder involuntarily as I turn back to my computer.
Suddenly, my colleague’s lilting voice startles me out of my reverie and I jump a little.
“Seen the boss-man this morning? He’s on a rampage,” June warns.
“God, you startled me. Good morning to you too, June,” I quip back at my friend.
“Right, right. Good morning and all that. Why are you so jumpy?” June slides her long, lithe body into the chair next to me.
“I’m jumpy because Jensen’s tirade might be about me.” I shrug, feigning calmness but internally feeling like I might vomit again. “We had some… differences of opinion about a brief last week.” I smile weakly.
“You know you’re not supposed to disagree with him.” June raises her perfectly kept eyebrows at me, a look of worry crossing over her pretty face. “What, are you crazy? Just give these people what they want. There’s no use in arguing about it.”
“Well, I don’t know that it’s me he’s mad at,” I offer, but in the pit of my stomach I’m beyond positive that I’m going to get a scolding at some point today. Why isn’t it Friday? Then he might not have time today, and he’ll forget about lowly little me over the weekend. I shake my head. This line of thinking is unproductive, Michelle, I scold myself.
Out loud, I ask June, “You do realize it’s 9:30 in the morning, right?”
She looks at her diamond-encrusted watch. “Wow, I am late this morning.” June grins coyly.
I raise my eyebrows at the svelte blonde, preparing myself for what I know will be a scandalous account about why she’s late to work.
As June settles into the visitor’s chair next to my desk, ready to spill the details of last night, I observe her. Standing a couple of inches taller and several clothes sizes smaller than me, June Bee looks more like a supermodel than a junior lawyer. Her tailored navy blue suit screams sophistication, while her long, blonde hair is tied back in a tidy bun.