“I flew in late last night,” he said, his eyes following her movements.
She hated the way Brad watched her all the time. “It was too bad you couldn’t make it to the party.”
“Morning, Lauren,” her father said, settling his napkin in his lap and reaching for a crystal glass filled with iced tea.
“Morning, Daddy,” she said, and then forced her attention to her stepmother, “Hello, Sharon.”
Lauren sat down at her place setting, directly across from Brad, flipping her napkin open. The table was filled with an array of brunch items. Lean cuts of roast beef, croissants, fresh fruit, and potato salad. “I’m starving. The food looks good.” Despite the rather nauseating company, her stomach was feeling better, as was her head.
With a wink, her father smiled. “Well then, by all means, let’s eat.”
“Brad was just telling us about his most recent case,” Sharon commented, clearly aiming to take some sort of jab at Lauren. She always had an agenda.
Brad leaned back in his chair, arrogance etched in his chiseled features. Lauren couldn’t help making a hasty comparison between Brad and Royce. Although Royce was arrogant, he wasn’t a snob. Royce was confident. Brad oozed an “I'm better than you” cockiness that drove her bonkers. “Just a little corporate trademark case,” Brad gloated with fake humbleness. “A few million in jeopardy. Nothing as exciting as the murder and mayhem Lauren favors.”
Lauren was reaching for her glass when Brad’s words hit her. Her hand froze around the chilled drink. Slowly, she withdrew her hand, fixing Brad with a frosty stare.
A slow, poisonous smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “I protect the public. Do you have a problem with putting criminals behind bars?”
“I don’t think it’s appropriate for a senator’s daughter,” he commented dryly.
Her mouth dropped open for a moment, then, through clenched teeth, she demanded, “And how exactly does your trademark war you’re litigating better serve the public than putting a murderer behind bars?”
“I guess I don’t consider putting a battered woman in the electric chair justice for the public or anyone else.”
“You don’t know anything about this case,” she said, barely containing the urge to reach for her drink again and throw it in his face.
“Brad, I think that’s enough,” the senator chided.
“Yes, enough Brad,” Sharon added, but there was a hint of satisfaction in her voice.
Lauren almost snorted. Of course it was enough. Her father had spoken. No way would Sharon have said a word until he did.
“What is it with your dislike for law enforcement, Brad?” And she couldn’t help taking a jab. “You have some skeleton in your closet you don’t want discovered?”
Brad flung his napkin on the table. “Now just one damn minute”
“Enough,” Sharon said more firmly this time.
Lauren and Brad stared at each other, and she made sure he saw the contempt she felt in her eyes. After several seconds, she pushed to her feet, “I’m not so hungry after all.” Lauren headed to the kitchen, filled a cup with coffee and headed to the den, her favorite room in the house, where she fully intended to try and calm down while waiting for the cab she was about to call.
She entered the room of warm browns and heavy oak, lined with law books she’d spent hours of her life studying. It was an escape for her, a place of peace after her mother’s death.
Setting her coffee down on the nearby desk, she turned to the books, eager to make a selection relevant to her upcoming trial, and temporarily forgetting her cab. She stood there, lost in the text, as she had so many times before. That was, until a faint thickness in the air made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She turned, finding Brad far too close for comfort, a mere foot away, at most. It was unnerving. She hadn’t heard him approach. She stiffened, knowing how aggressive he could get. He took a step closer, and she had nowhere to go but into the bookshelf.
His eyes traveled a slow path up and down her body, and then settled on her face. “You know, I’ve always thought you were quite beautiful when you’re angry. Sometimes I get you fired up just to watch the way your eyes sparkle when your temper flares.” He stepped closer and reached to touch her cheek.
Lauren turned her head to avoid his touch. “Don’t,” she bit out.
He pulled his hand away, but his eyes felt like a melting ember on her skin. “We’d be good together, you and I.”
“Brad, stop,” Lauren said, looking at him, wanting him to see the distaste in her eyes.
“You’re afraid of how it would look,” he said, his hand going to the bookcase beside her, trapping her in a corner. “But you shouldn’t be. We aren’t blood relatives. You lost your mother. You found me. The press will eat it up. We’ll be everyone’s love story.”
She shut the book. “You’re talking craziness, Brad.”
His hand slid to her cheek and she slapped it away. Panic rushed over her. He never touched her and that he did now set off warning bells. She tried to step around him. He moved with her, blocking her.
“What’s gotten into you?” she demanded, hands pressed hard against his chest.
A wicked grin filled his face as his head dipped toward her. “You have, and I’d like to get into you.”
She’d always thought he was a little off somehow, always thought him a little too like some of the unsavory types she put behind bars, but he’d taken it to a whole new level today. She inhaled slowly, more than a little experienced with dealing with people like Brad. “I’m going to give you three seconds to move out of my way before I bring my knee to your crotch and make sure you know it’s there. One. Two. Three.” He moved, laughing evilly.
She yanked her phone from her purse, even as she walked towards the dining room to tell her father she was feeling sick. Of course, Sharon made a snide remark about ‘too much champagne will do that to you’ but Lauren let it ride. She just wanted out of the house, out of this house. And sadly, she wasn’t sure that wasn’t exactly what Brad, and Sharon, wanted. Lauren was the intruder, the outsider. She couldn’t complain and have it do any good. Her father wanted Sharon and he wouldn’t risk losing her; she’d learned that the hard way too many times to count. But ironically, neither could Sharon and Brad quite get rid of Lauren. And for the first time ever, Lauren felt done with this battle, done fighting for her home, for a family that wasn’t a family at all. In fact, she was so done with this, that she wondered if maybe she shouldn’t just let Brad and Sharon get what they really want. Maybe Lauren should just go away and stay away.
Chapter Seven
It was seven-thirty on the dot and Lauren sat at her kitchen table, her laptop open. A thunderous knock sounded on her front door, and a smile tugged at Lauren’s lips despite her nervousness over seeing Royce again. There was simply no doubt that he was her visitor, as there seemed to be nothing that man did in a small way.
With a combination of trepidation and eager anticipation, Lauren stood up and ran her hands over her light blue, long-sleeved dress, where it tapered at her waist. Her gaze dropped to ensure her skirt rested properly just above her knees, then to inspect her strappy black sandals, somehow comforted to see everything was where it should be.
She inhaled a deep, calming breath and then walked to the door and, without giving herself time to think, opened it. “Hi,” she said, her throat going dry even before she took in the sight he made standing there, somehow closer than she’d expected, while appearing bigger than she remembered. His hair was loose around his shoulders, black slacks molding a powerful lower body, his black button-down sculpting a stellar chest and arms.