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Pure rage is coursing through me, and I’m feeling helpless and trapped between these two disgusting men and their equally horrible whims. Every part of me wants to end this right now, to get up and walk out and tell Alexander that he can go fuck himself, but my mother’s face flashes in my eyes. What would Alexander do if I were to tell him no? Would he actually send her away? Would he make it that much harder to see her?

Not knowing keeps me from doing any of the things I really want to, so I nod numbly instead.

“I will,” I answer hollowly, knowing I have few other options.

“Excellent,” Alexander says with a smug grin. “You and Lorenzo can prep tomorrow.” He looks expectantly at my client. “Let’s grab lunch, Lorenzo. We have things to discuss.”

There’s a hardness to his gaze, and my mind wanders back to Lorenzo’s outburst. I wonder for the first time if there is more between them than I was originally led to believe. Could there be a deeper reason for Alexander’s insistence upon the importance of this case other than his and Lorenzo’s “friendship”?

Alexander dismisses me, leaving me to my musings.

I’m back in my office before I remember Dani’s text that I was forced to stow away, leaning back in my chair and pushing thoughts of Alexander and Lorenzo’s bullshit far away as I give her my undivided attention.

Sour Patch:Who says it was YOU I wanted to see? Maybe I just want to check on Purrgood. I miss him.

I grin, knowing full well that it wasn’t Purrgood on her mind when she asked what I was doing tonight, but I’m happy to let her pretend. It’s more fun that way.

Me:He misses you too. You should probably come over and make sure I’m not overfeeding him.

Sour Patch:I have no doubts that you’re overfeeding him, but I guess if you really want me to…

Me:Just assume I always want you to.

Sour Patch:Fine. So needy.

Me:No arguments there. See you tonight.

I let out a sigh as I drop my phone on the desk, running my fingers through my hair. Seeing Dani is exactly what I need to forget this hellish day. I wonder what she would think if she knew how incredibly gone I am for her. The thought makes me smile. My prickly little lawyer would most likely fight the idea of feeling something more for me tooth and nail.

But a guy can dream.

•••

“God,” Dani groans.“No wonder Purrgood is so huge. If you feed him like you just fed me.”

“No one made you get a second helping,” I point out, eyeing her from the kitchen island, where I’m washing the dishes. She offered, but the sight of her stretched out on my couch was too tempting to pass up. “I’m starting to think you only like me for my cooking.”

She cracks one eye open to glare at me. “You’ve only cooked for me like, three times.”

“And you raved and raved about each one,” I preen.

She rolls her eyes before closing them again, resuming her slow stroking of Purrgood’s belly as he lounges in her lap. “Whatever. You had to be good at something.”

“I’d argue I’m good at several things where you’re concerned,” I say slyly, drying my hands on a dish towel.

Dani blows a raspberry in lieu of answering, and I bark out a laugh as I pad out of the kitchen to settle on the opposite end of the couch. She eyes me suspiciously when I grab for one of her feet, which are draped over the side, pulling it into my lap and working it with my fingers as she relaxes with a satisfied sound.

“Now you’re just trying to butter me up,” she mumbles.

I press the pad of my thumb into the arch of her foot, rubbing a hard line down the length. “I do what I have to.”

“Well, keep doing it,” she hums.

It’s been a relatively uneventful evening; we ate chicken carbonara that I made and drank the wine that she likes (she still won’t admit how pleased it made her when she found out I started keeping a bottle of it here), talking about everything and nothing. I find that I like this time with her almost as much as touching her intimately. Maybe even more so. I can’t be sure. It really is a toss-up, if I’m being honest. I’m greedy for any time I get to spend with her.

“So how is the Preston case going?” I ask casually. “Did Nate get the receipts for the wife’s sex addiction therapy?”

Dani snorts. “He hasn’t shut up about it. Didn’t know it was a thing, apparently. I swear to God, if I have to hear him muse about potential treatments for it one more time, I’m going to throw myself out the window.”