Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

I had to pull myself away from a sleeping Bentley and drag my sorry ass back to the office. I wanted to wake her, tell her to come with me. That I needed her.

I didn’t do that though.

Instead, I left her asleep because I didn’t want to see the worry, the disappointment, on her face when she found out I’d been served. Xavier and Alistair blew up my phone, telling me I’d been served with a lawsuit from Clive Corporation. Turns out that good-for-nothing grandson of Old Man Clive is out for my blood.

Even though I told Clive where to shove his business, he took my advice and added a safety clause to his retirement plan—a handover which must have just recently taken place. I don’t know the particulars of why the little fucker is trying to sue me. And I don’t care. Because I know he won’t fucking stand a chance of winning. I also don’t want Bentley to take the blame. It was her I chose over Clive Corp’s business, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“Have you read this shit? It’s laughable.” I throw the piece of paper I’m holding onto the desk.

“I’ve read it,” Xavier says.

“And?” I ask him with a raised brow.

“I agree. It’s laughable. The kid’s grasping at straws.”

I already knew that, but hearing it from my business partner, my best friend, having that confirmation is somewhat comforting.

“There is no truth to these claims, though, is there?” Xavier questions me, while leaning forward in his seat on the other side of my desk.

My eyebrows scrunch up. “I can’t believe you’re even asking me that.” My voice rises. “You think I’d embezzle fucking funds from a client?”

“No, I don’t. However, it’s my fucking job as your representation to ask, Nathan.”

“I’ll represent myself,” I tell him.

“Like fuck you will,” Alistair says as he walks into my office and claims the chair beside Xavier. “Catch me up. What’d I miss?” he asks.

“Just that Xavier here thinks I’m guilty,” I huff.

“No, I fucking don’t. I’m just covering all the bases.”

“Of course, you’re not guilty. How the fuck would you embezzle funds from a company anyway. You’re their fucking solicitor, not an accountant.”

“I’ve already put in a request for a hearing date. This will be thrown out of court before we even sit down. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried,” I lie. I know I’m innocent, but whenever you’re being sued, there is always that chance of losing. If I lost this case, I’d be kissing my career goodbye.

“Good, because this is bullshit.” Alistair reaches forward, plucks the typed claim from my desk, and crumbles it up.

I look through the glass and see Bentley storming towards her office. She glances in my direction before quickly averting her eyes. Xavier and Alistair both turn in their seats to see what’s captured my attention.

“Fuck, she looks pissed. What’d you do?” Xavier turns back around to face me.

“I didn’t do anything. Last I saw her, she was passed out and fully satisfied.” I smirk, thinking of just how I left her. Naked, in my bed. I was hoping that’s how I’d find her when I returned home tonight.

“For someone so smart, you really can be daft sometimes, mate.” Alistair shakes his head and pushes to his feet.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Yeah, you’re on your own on this one.” He directs a finger my way, before pointing at his own chest. “I’m getting the popcorn ready; you get the drinks.” He gestures to Xavier, then walks out.

“Done,” Xavier agrees and follows him.

“You two are fucking idiots. Whatever’s pissed her off has nothing to do with me,” I call out after them.

I stand at the same time my phone rings on my desk. I glance down and consider ignoring it. Whoever it is can wait. Tracey can take a message. However, when I look up and see my secretary pointing at the phone in her hand, I slump back into my seat and press the intercom.

“Tracey, on a scale of one to ten, how important is this?” I ask her.

“Ten. I have Luke Gallah on the line for you,” she says.

I rub a hand over my face and sigh. I need to take this. Luke Gallah is the client going after Mark Kemp—the man responsible for putting Bentley’s father behind bars. Just the thought of what Kemp did to Bentley’s family has me seeing red. There is nothing I want more than to see him in that green fucking jumpsuit and behind bars. Where he belongs.

When I look up at the clock, it reads six thirty p.m. The office is quiet. It’s been a couple of hours since I saw Bentley walk in. I haven’t had a chance to go and see her yet.

That phone call from Luke Gallah opened a whole new can of worms that threw me into a rabbit hole as I dug for any documentation that would confirm what he suspects is true. He’s claiming that Bentley’s father didn’t commit suicide, that Kemp had put a hit on his former business partner. I haven’t uncovered anything that suggests this yet, but if it is true, I will find the evidence needed to convict Kemp for his crimes. I’ve put in a request to have all of the legal files, Mr Johnson’s inmate files, everything I could think of sent here. There’s not much more I can do now, other than wait for the documents to make their way to me.

Standing, I loosen my tie and roll my neck. It cracks, relieving some of the built-up tension that’s taken residence there. I make my way over to Bentley’s office and find it empty. The lights are out. She left and she didn’t come and see me first?

I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial her number. Just as I think it’s about to go to voicemail, the call connects. “Hello.” Her voice is strained.

“What’s wrong? Where are you?” I question her.

“Nothing’s wrong, and I’m at home,” she responds.

“Okay, great. I’m leaving the office now. I’ll be there in fifteen,” I tell her.

“No, I’m at my home, Nathan. Not yours,” she says.

Fuck, I really need to get her to agree to fucking move in with me already. “Why?” I ask, and try to keep the irritation out of my voice. She’s spent every night in my bed for the last few weeks.

“I needed to see my mum. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

I pull the phone away from my ear to confirm that she did in fact just disconnect the call. She hung up on me. What the fuck?

Maybe Xavier and Alistair were right and I did do something to piss her off. I send her a message.

Me:

Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please come home.

The little typing bubbles appear on my screen, showing that she’s responding before they disappear and start again.

Bentley:

I’ll see you tomorrow.

That’s it. I’ll see you tomorrow? How the hell am I meant to get through the night without having her in my bed?

Turns out, I don’t fucking sleep without Bentley in my bed. I’ve been tossing and turning all night. Picking up my phone, I read the time: 2 a.m.

Fuck me, I’m going to be a mess tomorrow.

I pull up her name in my contacts and shoot her a message.

Me:

I don’t like you not being in my bed. I can’t fucking sleep without you, Bentley.

When I see the read notice automatically appear, I sit up. She’s awake too. I hit dial on her number.

“Hello,” she answers.

“Bentley, why are you awake?” I ask her.

“Because I have a demanding boss, who’s messaging me at two in the morning,” she says.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep either.” She sighs into the phone.

“You can always come home,” I tell her. I figure if I continue to refer to my apartment as home , it’ll sink in that this is in fact where she belongs.

“It’s the middle of the night,” she reminds me. “I’m not getting out of bed now. Just talk to me, tell me something, bore me until I fall asleep.”

“Bore you? Are you saying conversing with me isn’t exciting, Bentley? Fuck, I’ll have to up my game.”

“No, I love talking to you.”

“What are you wearing? I was hoping I’d come home and find you still naked in our bed.”

“I’m naked in my bed,” she says, emphasising the possessive pronoun.

I groan. Of course she’s fucking naked. My hand digs under the waistband of my sleep shorts and wraps around my cock. “I want you naked in our bed. I want to be able to touch you, lick you, bite you. Fuck you,” I tell her.

“Mmm, that does sound like the perfect cure for my insomnia. If I were in your bed, what would you do to me?” she asks.

“Bentley, I want your fingers shoved inside you. Now,” I tell her. “Are you wet? Is the thought of what I can do to your body making you wet, baby girl?”

“Yes.” Her response comes out on a breathy moan. “I’m so wet.”

“Good girl. Now pump those fingers in and out. Imagine that their mine. That I’m shoving my fingers as deep into that tight little cunt of yours as I can possibly go.”

“Oh god,” she groans.

“That’s it. I want to hear you come for me, baby girl. I want to hear you pleasure yourself, knowing that if you would have just come home, it’d be me pleasuring you right now.”

“If I went to your place, I’d probably be asleep right now,” she says.

“Bentley, press your thumb against your clit,” I instruct her.

“Okay.”

My own hand is fisting up and down my shaft. My fingers coated in precum, I squeeze tighter, not ready to be done with this conversation just yet. “Bentley, rub your thumb in a circle around that sweet little bud. If you were here, I’d be sucking on it right now,” I tell her.

“Mmm, I like when you do that,” she whispers.

“You like everything I do to that body of yours,” I tell her. “I’m so fucking hard for you right now. My cock is aching with the knowledge that it can’t sink into you.”

“Maybe we can meet for breakfast,” she says.

“Deal, but I want to hear you come for me first. Curl those fingers up inside your pussy. Pump them harder, faster.”

“I can’t… oh god… Nathan….” she moans, and I hear it. The moment she comes.

My hand slides up and down my cock faster, my cum squirting right up my stomach in ropes. “Fuck me,” I hiss out.

“At breakfast,” Bentley says, and then the line cuts out.

She fucking hung up on me again.