Page 28 of Dial L for Lawyer (Curves & Capital #2)

Serena

T he second Caleb leaves, his apartment feels too big, too quiet, too much like a stage set for a life I don't know how to live.

I love you.

The words keep echoing in my head as I wander through his space, touching things like they might explain how we got here.

His coffee table books are all architecture—no surprise there.

His record collection contains more jazz than I expected, Miles Davis and Coltrane mixed with the classical I'd assumed.

An entire wall displays the first edition law books he'd mentioned collecting the first time we met.

Seeing them all leather-bound and pristine hits different than just hearing about them.

Then there's his refrigerator—terrifyingly organized with labeled glass containers.

'Salmon/Quinoa/Tues,' 'Chicken/Sweet Potato/Wed'.

Clearly the work of a private chef who meal preps for him.

Some fancy-looking beer sits next to unlabeled bottles of what looks like fresh juice to go with all those prepped meals.

It's too early for beer, so I grab a green juice and take off the lid. A quick sniff tells me it's apple and spinach with what I think might be pineapple and a little ginger.

It's really good. Everything in this place is just a little better than what normal people have.

I can't decide if that's intimidating or comforting.

Taking my green juice, I keep my promise and head for his huge marble bathtub.

If I'm going to wallow in my feelings, I might as well do it somewhere with jets.

The bathroom cabinet holds fancy French bath stuff, all gift-boxed and unopened, like he's never once indulged himself.

I rifle through and pick a set with gold calligraphy—fig and sandalwood, whatever that means.

I turn on the faucet, dump half the bottle in, and crawl in as the tub fills, cranking the jets and letting the warmth drag me under.

For a while, I just lie there, eyes closed, listing to the hum of the jets, my memories of last twenty-four hours on loop.

I let myself exist in the strange overlap of belonging and being completely out of place.

I drink the juice, and somewhere between the second and third mouthful I drift into the kind of soft, mindless peace that only comes when you're too tired to think critically about your own existence.

When the water turns lukewarm and my skin prunes, I stand and wrap myself in one of his obscenely plush towels, wandering back into the bedroom to stare at the skyline while air dries my skin.

Caleb's shirt lies on the floor where I left it.

I pull it on over my head, lose myself in the folds.

It still smells like him—soap, coffee, that cologne that made me dizzy last night.

I shiver remembering how he peeled my clothing off, how his hands felt, how he looked at me like I was everything. My body still aches in the best ways.

There's a text waiting on my phone:

Caleb:

Thinking about you soaking in my tub…

Me:

Too late. I literally just got out.

Caleb:

Photos or it didn’t happen

Me:

Cocky ass

I smile at the screen and curl up on his couch, ready to text Layla and Audrey about everything that's happened—the mind-blowing sex, the shower, the fucking I love you —when a message pops up.

Maya:

Hey! Can we grab lunch today? I have news!

I stare at the text. Luminous was pretty clear about me not contacting my team, and I already took a risk having coffee with her the other day. But if she's the one contacting me, does it count?

Me:

Can't do lunch. How about coffee? 30 minutes?

Maya:

Perfect! That place on Division near your apartment?

Me:

Sure. See you there.

I race home, throwing on jeans and a sweater so I don’t have to explain why I’m wearing Caleb’s clothes, and make it to the coffee shop with two minutes to spare.

Maya's already there, looking polished in expensive workout clothes, her smile bright enough to power the block. A new designer bag sits beside her.

"Serena! You look amazing!" She pulls me into a hug that lasts a beat too long. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm... managing." I settle into my chair, studying her. New highlights definitely. New bag. New energy. "You said you had news?"

"I'm leaving Luminous." She says it like she's announcing a pregnancy, all barely contained excitement.

"What? Why?"

"After what they did to you?" She shakes her head, perfectly blown-out hair swishing. "I can't work for people who'd throw you under the bus after everything you've done. Especially someone who mentored and taught me everything I know."

I blink at her, stunned by the loyalty. "You were next in line. You could have taken my job."

"I don't care. It's poisoned now. Besides, I'm on to bigger and brighter things." Her eyes light up as she leans in conspiratorially. "I got a job offer. Better title, better money, better everything."

"That's amazing. Where?"

"I can't say yet." She bites her lip in that practiced way that probably drives men crazy. "Legal stuff, NDAs, you know how it is. But once I'm settled and this whole mess with your accusation is cleared up, I'll definitely bring you in."

"My accusation?"

"Sorry, the accusation against you. God, that came out wrong." She reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. Her nails are new too—gel manicure, perfectly shaped. "I know you're innocent, Serena. Anyone who knows you knows you'd never sell out Luminous."

"Thanks. That means a lot."

"Us girls have to stick together, right?" Her smile is so sincere it makes my teeth hurt. "Especially in this industry. It's beauty, but it's still so male-dominated. We need to look out for each other."

"Right."

She glances at her phone. "Shit, I have to run. Moving boxes won't pack themselves! I just wanted to see you one last time before I go. Say thanks for everything. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be doing this right now."

"You're welcome, I guess?"

She stands up and gives me another too-long hug, practically crushing me against her.

"Take care of yourself, OK? And don't worry—everything's going to work out. I have a feeling."

She's gone before I can respond, leaving me with the weird sensation of being hugged by a bear that learned its moves from a self-help seminar. Too much touching, too much eye contact, too much... everything.

Something feels off. Maya Bolton doesn't quit jobs. She collects promotions like trophies. And since when did she hug? Before my suspension, the most she’d touched me was that time she fixed my collar before a presentation. And she used a pen to do it.

I stand there for a full minute, fidgeting with my cup, trying to process the change.

Is Maya for real? She's never been anything but ambitious, but did she just walk away from her dream job because of what happened to me?

And what about this new job? If there's an NDA, then maybe her new gig is with a competitor trying to poach Luminous staff?

Maybe she's the one orchestrating the leaks and this job is her reward?

The paranoia returns, icy and sharp, but I tamp it down.

She seemed genuine. Maybe it's possible to have one work friend in a cutthroat industry who isn't secretly out to get you.

I head back to Caleb's apartment, the afterglow of coffee and whiplash loyalty making me feel both untouchable and paper-thin. But once I enter his building, getting up to the penthouse becomes its own adventure.

"I'm sorry, miss, but I can't just let you up," the doorman says, polite but firm. "Security protocol."

"I was here this morning. With Mr. Kingsley. I just stepped out for coffee."

"I understand, but without Mr. Kingsley present or prior authorization..."

"OK. I'll call him and he can tell you himself." I pull out my phone but he holds up his hand.

"No need, miss. I'll call him myself."

He disappears into his desk phone, murmuring quietly. After a few minutes, he hangs up and hands me a key card.

"Mr. Kingsley says to give you your own key with full access. This will work on the elevator to the penthouse."

"Wow," I say, taking the card like it's Excalibur. This little piece of plastic feels heavier than it should—the permanence, the trust.

"I'm not sure what to do with this," I admit, pocketing it before I can second-guess myself.

"Just scan it," he says, clearly not understand how monumental this is.

I float to the elevator and scan the card. The penthouse button glows instantly, no resistance. Magic.

The penthouse looks exactly as I left it, except now it feels different knowing I have a key. Like I belong here. Like this could be real.

The landline rings the second I walk in.

"Hello?"

"You answered." Caleb's voice is warm, pleased.

"It was ringing."

"Yes. But you answered my phone."

"Should I not have?"

"No, I like it. I like the idea of you answering my phone when I'm not there. Very domestic."

"Why didn't you just call my cell?"

"Because I wanted to picture you in my apartment, answering my phone, wearing my clothes." A pause. "You are still wearing my clothes, right?"

"I’m wearing my clothes. But I’m about to change back into your shirt. Just your shirt," I say, then add because I can't help myself, "Nothing else."

His intake of breath is audible. "Serena..."

"You asked."

"Where did you go?"

"I had to meet someone for coffee."

"Anyone I know?"

"Maya. She wanted to tell me she's leaving Luminous."

"Really? That's... sudden."

"Yeah. She says she can't work there after how they treated me."

He's quiet for a beat. "What else did she say?"

"She got a new job but can't say where. NDAs or something."

"Interesting timing." His voice shifts to lawyer-neutral. "Did she seem... different?"

"Maybe? Really friendly. Almost too friendly. Kept hugging me."

"Maya doesn't strike me as a big hugger."

"Right? But she’s hugged me the last two times we spoke. It was weird. But maybe she feels guilty about me getting suspended or something."