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Thatch: Cap, before you get too busy running your own errands, can you give me Hillary’s number so I can call her and see if she’ll fill in for you? We can’t be short a player.

Me: You bastards better bring extra money tonight because I’m going to clean you the fuck out.

I lock the screen of my phone and grin.

I’m a fucking corporate lawyer. My poker face is aces, and there’s no doubt I will steal all their damn money tonight.

Yeah, but first, you’re going to go to the fucking law library to do the kind of research that, at this point in your career, you should be paying other people to do for you…

“Fuck this day,” I huff with a sigh. I haven’t been to the library to do my own research in at least five years.

Shit, probably more.

I’m fairly confident I’ll figure it out, but this is a real pain in my ass. I’m not at this place in my career anymore. I’ve worked ninety-hour weeks for the majority of the last several years to make sure of it.

We pull up in front of the architecturally impressive building that houses the library, and Vinny hits the locks. After years of working for me, he knows I won’t wait for him to come to my door and doesn’t even bother attempting the formality.

I shove out and jog to the front door, holding its heavy, nine-foot weight open for a woman exiting and flashing her a smile. She blushes, and some of the bitterness I feel because of Hillary disappears.

In general, I love women.

Love talking with them, working with them, listening to them, looking at them…and goddamn, do I love fucking them.

Bent over, leg lifted, missionary, cowgirl, wheelbarrow, doggy style, spooning, in the shower, against the wall—I’ll fuck a woman any way, anywhere, and I’ll make sure it’s the best goddamn sex she’s had in her whole entire life.

That’s what makes it so offensive when someone like Hillary comes along and puts absolutely no effort into her intelligence. It gives the rest of the female population of goddesses a generalized bad name, and quite frankly, it gives me a fucking headache.

I pass by the marble front desk in a hurry, but my swift stride does nothing to stop me from noticing the stunning woman sitting behind it. With blond hair, soft skin, and a pink-and-black-flowered sundress slipping off the edge of one petite shoulder, she has her head down and is tucked toward her phone with a pair of earbuds in her ears.

Hot damn, my eyes are loving this view.

She’s concentrating so hard on whatever she’s doing that she doesn’t notice me, but I don’t have time to alert her. As much as I’d love to, the clock is fucking ticking.

The computers are up a floor, so I take the stairs two at a time until I make it to the top, turn right, and head straight into the research room. An empty spot right in front beckons.

I make it to the computer and bring it to life with the mouse and then get to work on my search. A transcript of the court minutes will be on file somewhere in here, but I’m counting on my search to tell me where.

When I finally find the shelf location, I click out of the search engine, make my way out of the computer room, and find the file in a hurry. When I pull it from the shelf in its blue folder, the thickness worries me.

I sure as fuck hope I’m going to be able to find what I’m looking for in this thing by tomorrow morning.

I do a quick scan of the pages, but I don’t have time for much else. It’s five minutes until close, and these are the kinds of files they don’t let you take with you. If I’m going to have the time to find what I’m looking for, it’s going to have to be tonight as I read through copies after poker night with the guys.

Decided, I hurry to the staircase leading to the main lobby and make my way down it.

The pretty blonde at the desk is still there, looking down and fiddling with the material of her sundress as I approach. Damn, that’s sexy. I’m practically mesmerized by the way her French-tipped nails move against the fabric and, every once in a while, brush against the silky-smooth skin of her toned legs.

But with a quick shake of my head, I bring myself back to reality.

She’s a little goddess, yes, but I need these copies more than I need my next fucking breath.

But when she doesn’t look up immediately, I have far too much time to study the exquisite lines of her face closely, and before I can stop myself, a new challenge presents itself.


Tags: Max Monroe Billionaire Romance