Seamless (22 page)

“Miss, I’d like a mini-script when you’re done.” He pressed his business card into her hand before walking down the table and dropping into a seat.

Stella’s face burned in embarrassment. He thought she was the fucking court reporter—a mini-script was the type of transcript of the deposition he wanted when they were finished.

Glancing around the conference room, she noticed several of the other attorneys smirking at her after having watched the exchange. She dropped her folders on the table and made her way down to him. “Sir?”

The attorney looked up at her. “Yes?”

She leaned down close to him and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “While I appreciate you giving me your card, I’ll send the court reporter down to you once she gets here.” She dropped his card in his lap and turned to walk back to her chair. She sat down and pulled out her outline of all the topics she wanted to cover with each witness.

Chris Bagwell was the CEO’s counsel and a real asshole. He was waving in the secretary who she was supposed to be deposing second into the room and asked her to sit directly across from Stella. The real court reporter sat at the head of the table and was already set up, looking at the attorneys expectantly.

“Chris. We already discussed I’ll be deposing Mr. Wafford first.” Stella narrowed her eyes and leaned back in her chair.
This was going to be a game of whose was bigger. Ugh.
She fucking hated the games attorneys played with each other; it was very male and annoyed the shit out of her.

“Well, we’ve decided that Lindsay will go first today.” He motioned for the court reporter to swear in the witness.

Stella didn’t move. “Actually, Chris,
we
didn’t decide anything. If you’ll take a look at the deposition notice I sent, you’ll find I will be deposing Mr. Wafford first.” She pulled out the notice, which was marked as Exhibit A, and slid it across the table.

“We changed our mind.” He slid the notice back at her.

She caught it and smiled the most condescending smile she could muster. “Too late.”

“Stella, come on,” he said, like this was her just being a bitch.

This had nothing to do with being a bitch, but had everything to do with strategy and necessity. Further, now it had to do with the fact she couldn’t let all these men think they could push her around with an “aw shucks” grin.

“We’re doing Wafford first or we can do neither and your client will have to come back here on a different day when you guys agree that he will go first.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s up to you. I’m sure all the other attorneys would love to reschedule these depositions.”

Chris’ smirk fell from his face and she knew she had him.
Asshole.
“Fine.” He motioned for the secretary to follow him out of the room, but not before he muttered “bitch” under his breath.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Chris!” Stella called and smiled at the rest of the attorneys at the table and her client sitting next to her. She should’ve worn the shoes with the spikes on them.

It had been a long week and she was looking forward to drinking heavily and passing out. As she pulled into the driveway, she waved at an agent in front of the house that she didn’t recognize. When Cooper didn’t meet her at the door, fear pricked at the back of her mind. “Cooper!” she yelled, panicked.

She heard him jump off the bed and stomp down the stairs to meet her in the den. “Fuck, you scared the shit out of me!” she said, petting his head, then went into the kitchen to pour a glass full of Crown.

“Damn, you drink like that all the time?”

At the sound of his voice, Stella jumped about five feet in the air, spilling her drink and almost falling on her ass. “Fuck!” She turned to find George, shirtless, his 100-watt dimpled smile beaming. His hair was messy, like he’d just gotten out of bed. Perfect. She got her wits about her before she ran and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and burrowing her face into his neck. “I didn’t know you were coming home this early! I thought you were flying in tomorrow morning.”

He squeezed his arms around her and sighed, setting her on her feet. “I thought I’d surprise you and we’d have dinner here tonight. The wedding will be a lot of work shit and my duck wanted some alone time.”

He pulled her hair out of its messy bun and kissed her neck. “I’ve missed you.” He grabbed her left hand and looked at her ring finger and then gazed into her eyes so intensely she thought she may faint.

“I can see that.” Stella reached up to his face with her left hand and ran her fingers over his lips.

“Let me show you.” He threw her over his shoulder and took her to their bed.

Later that night, he drove his motorcycle to the bar. He missed his bike; it felt good to have the cold air rush past him, even if it was only for a few miles. George was exhausted, but he wanted to put eyes on Finnegan’s while he was home to make sure everything was running smoothly. He’d also wanted to put eyes on Stella, make sure she was okay, and thank her properly for the tattoo on her ring finger. They talked regularly, but he heard the distance in her voice at times. She may not be able to handle him being away so often; they may need to talk about it and how to deal with the distance. Based on the tattoo on her bicep, she was feeling overwhelmed with Jamie being around, too. She’d assured him she was working with the FBI and that everything was going to work out, but he wasn’t so sure.

He pushed open the door to the bar and felt at home, at ease. He smiled at Hazel and Owen behind the bar and the line of people around it. It was a little after ten and the bar was packed. The tables were full of jubilant people drinking and listening to a folk band on the stage. George’s face turned up just being in Finnegan’s. He walked behind the bar and hugged Hazel and Owen.

“I didn’t know you’d be in tonight,” Owen said.

“Well, I didn’t know if I’d be able to get an earlier flight until a few hours ago.”

Hazel went back to pouring drinks. There were a ton of younger faces at the bar, much more than when he left.

“I just thought I’d pop by to see how it’s going. I’m heading back to Iowa on Sunday and have a wedding tomorrow.”

“Things are really great, Will.” Owen poured two whiskeys and put them on the counter, starting a tab.

“This band is good. Did you find them?” George asked.

Owen nodded, smiling as he worked. “If you’re behind the bar, you need to help, boss.”

George grinned and went to the end of the bar to start taking drink orders. The regulars were still there, but there were a ton of new patrons. He worked for hours, his back wet from sweat. He missed this just a little; the people, the drinks, the laughs and even the smell. The band took a break and he pulled out his phone. He’d told El he’d only be gone for an hour, it was 11:59.
Shit
. He heard a hip hop beat blaring from the speakers and everyone started to stand up.

Owen grinned as the majority of the young people in the bar started yelling with the lyrics. George poured Guinness and tried to listen.

“Fuck the London Guard!” It seemed like the whole bar yelled together.

He looked over to Hazel and she was yelling too. They all appeared to know the song and held up their pint glasses when the song directed, “lift your glass to the sky.” A buzz sounded with the song as everyone started humming. He shook his head. It was very cool and he was impressed.

Owen came to stand near him. “Hope you don’t mind the Irish Celebration.”

“Of course not; that was awesome. Who sings it?”

“Macklemore.” Owen laughed and walked off.

“Are you serious?” He was so out of the loop. Things were changing. Life was changing and he wasn’t around. He felt it with Stella too. He was missing things with her and he didn’t like it.

Stella walked out of the bathroom and grabbed her clutch, hoping she didn’t make them late. Senator Ashby’s daughter was getting married at Mount Vernon and George was invited for press purposes. Stella was excited to learn that Millie was invited too, due to her work with the Senator on the educational legislation. She tugged at the hem of her very short, very tight, cocktail dress. It was a Hervé Léger bandage dress with seven different shades of blue. It only covered one shoulder and was so tight there was no hiding her curves. Her silver shoes were peep-toed six inch heels with crystals all over them. Her intention in buying this particular dress this week was to make sure George’s eyes never left her. When she rounded the corner from the stairs, she heard him curse.

“Holy shit.” George blew out a breath. “You can’t wear that,” he said, looking at his watch, “you have to change.”

Stella stopped in her tracks. “What? Why?” She looked down. She’d even asked the saleslady to help her with the dress for the wedding and she’d said it was completely appropriate.

“Because you can’t upstage the bride, El.” He raised his eyes to meet hers and his dimples made her stomach flip. “She’s going to be pissed.”

“Oh, really?” she teased and walked up to him slowly, obviously giving him a once-over; he was wearing a tuxedo with a pink bowtie and he took her breath away. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” she said appreciatively.

He put his hand up her skirt and grabbed her ass. “You’re not wearing underwear,” he growled.

“Hey!” She swatted his hand away. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish!”

“Oh, I can finish it,” he snarled and picked her up, sitting her on the kitchen counter and spreading her legs so they were on either side of his hips. His hands roamed all over her, his jaw clenched. “You’re not wearing underwear.”

“You said that already.” She laughed. “Have you seen this dress? No underwear would fit under it.”

They heard a car horn from outside.

“Fuck,” George muttered as he helped her down. He rearranged himself in his pants. “I’m going to be in a perpetual state of arousal tonight.”

Perfect.
That’s exactly what she was going for.

“Wait. Where’s your cast?” George demanded. He’d been so distracted by her dress, he just noticed that she was missing her cast.

“I cut it off.” She busied herself grabbing her clutch and making her way to the front door, knowing he was going to be irritated with her. She shrugged. “It didn’t go with my dress.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It took you ten minutes to notice.”

“El, weren’t you supposed to go back to the doctor to get that off?”

“See, killed two birds with one stone. I look hot in my dress and I don’t have to pay for the doctor to do exactly what I just did.”

“But what if it hasn’t fully healed?”

They heard another beep.

Stella grinned and did a couple of break dancing moves from the 80s that included moving her hands all around him. “See?”

“Fuck, you’re…”

“Awesome? Hot in this dress? Have the moves of a D-list celebrity?” she finished for him. “Come on, Patrick will get all pissy if he has to beep again.”

“Ridonkulous,” George said. He pulled on a long wool coat and handed her a gray cashmere trench that she’d draped over the back of the barstool.

She laughed and she grabbed his hand to leave. “I’ll show you what else my hand can do later.”

“Tease.”

“It’s not a tease,” she whispered in his ear as they walked down the stairs to the driveway.

Patrick and Millie smiled at them from Patrick’s Audi. George opened the back door so Stella could sit with Millie, who started talking a mile a minute as soon as Stella sat down.

The couple getting married was truly a political power couple. The uniting of political forces was sort of scary. Senator Ashby’s daughter was marrying Parker Harding, the son of a northern Virginia Congressman. They were getting married on the lawn at Mount Vernon and then the reception was in an enormous tent on the lawn overlooking the Potomac. It’d been in all the DC magazines as the wedding of the season.

“You’re looking really hot tonight,” Millie giggled. “Where did you get those shoes? They look like Cinderella slippers.”

“Jimmy Choo.” Stella kicked her foot up and put it on the armrest.