To do nothing. We are not going to do anything. She’s my client, and I am in charge of her care. I won’t cross those lines with her.
But damn it, I want to.
I lean my head against the wall of the shower and sit with this urge the way I sit with my guilt. I feel it. I feel all of it. My palms burn from not touching her. My arms ache from not folding her into them. Glancing down at my cock, I let out a huff of incredulity.
This situation is unbelievably fucked up.
Forbidden.
The kind of shit that could tank a career like mine.
Lathering soap across my body, the scent fills the room and I breathe it in, ignoring the baser instincts. I can handle this case and this woman, Ella. That’s the only option, handle it like I’ve been trained. I ignore the ache below my waist, turn off the shower, and towel off. Washing the two pills down with water, I prepare to pass the fuck out and fall into a much-needed deep sleep.
Back in the small bedroom my phone stares at me from its spot on the table. What I need to do, more than anything, is sleep. I have to be fresh for the night shift. No dozing off when this case is still developing and all her secrets are still there, ripe for the picking. No slipping up because my mind is clouded with equal parts of emotion and want.
I snap the curtains shut over the windows and take my phone off the table. I’m not going to avoid the damn thing just because Ella’s songs are on it. Other than a thin sunbeam slipping through the curtains, the screen is the only light in the room.
Stretching out on the bed brings a moment of relief. I sink into the mattress and let my head fall back. Scrolling through the phone, I can’t help that it feels loaded.
I know that downloading a couple of songs doesn’t erase the past. It doesn’t mean I owe less. It doesn’t mean I’m moving on and betraying anyone’s memory.
It doesn’t.
And neither does the attraction I feel for Ella. Because I am attracted to her. Damn it, I am. I take in a long breath and blow it out to the ceiling. Unread emails stare at me from the small screen. Maybe I’m attracted to her because I’m looking for an escape now that the date for the hearing has been set.
The hearing has hauled the weight of the past two years right up to the present and parked it on my chest. This could be my mind’s way of finding a way out from under it. Or at least a way to hold some of it up so I don’t suffocate.
I shove the phone under my pillow, where I can’t see it. It’s dangerous to be having these thoughts. Dangerous to be having any kind of feelings for Ella. The whole damn thing feels risky in a way it didn’t before I stepped inside that courtroom and those eyes met mine.
A harsh exhale brings me back to reality. She’s nothing but a fantasy. Running my hand down my face, I remind myself that it’s merely a lust-filled diversion and I imagine whatever pull she felt to me is the same.
Even entertaining the idea of more than a quick fuck with a woman makes my chest ache with that same scarred-over guilt. I hesitated before. Pushed back on the idea, and there were consequences to that hesitation. There are always consequences. It’s twice as true now. If I can’t get rid of these feelings for Ella, it won’t just affect me. It’ll affect the entire team, and especially Cade, who’s trusting all of us with this.
I sling an arm over my eyes and swallow those feelings down. Wrestle them into something I can carry. Through sheer force of will I make the intensity fade, at least for a moment. At least for now. If it comes back …
I tried. And I’ll keep trying, because this can’t happen with Ella. It simply can’t. I’m not going to put us in that position. Me. Ella. The Firm. I won’t do it.
“The first days with a client can be like this,” I say out loud, to no one but myself. I justify these thoughts, and why they won’t turn into anything more than a delusion. There’s an adjustment period. We’re in that adjustment period, and it’s more intense than usual because we’ve never taken on this kind of job before. We’ve never had a client with these needs.
I feel foolish, attempting to convince myself, but it’s better than allowing this to get any further. Taking my phone back out, I stare at the two new songs, but scroll past them, deciding on a familiar melody.
I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. Today was a mistake. That’s exactly what Eleanor Bordeu is. A mistake.