Egomaniac - Vi Keeland Page 0,16

didn’t play games, got straight to the point.

Alexa’s fingers were at the zipper of my shorts before I closed the bedroom door. I pushed her up against it to block out the party, and it also slammed shut—two birds, one stone.

“You’re applying to law school next year?” she asked as I felt up her tits. It should have set off an alarm since I hadn’t mentioned my plans for the future. But…she had great tits. And killer legs. Those were currently wrapped around my waist. I’d also been drinking since the afternoon.

“Yeah. I’ll probably stay at Emory. My father and grandfather are legacy.”

After that, we brought in the new year with a bang.

Great memories.

Bad idea.

Chapter 8

Drew

“You what?” Roman Olivet stared at me like I’d just told him I killed Queen Elizabeth. He shook his head. “Bad idea, man.”

I looked down at my scotch, swirling the amber liquid in my glass for a minute before bringing it to my lips. “She’s going to help me while Tess is out for three months in exchange for rent. It’ll give her a chance to find a place she can afford and get back on her feet.”

Roman sucked back his beer. “I asked you to rent me space two years ago, and you told me you couldn’t share space with anyone.”

“I can’t. This is temporary.”

He squinted at me. “She’s hot, isn’t she?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“You’re such a dick.”

“What the hell? Emerie said the same thing.”

Roman’s eyebrows jumped. “She called you a dick, and you’re letting her share office space with you? She must have some ass.”

I tried to maintain my stoic face, but Roman and I have been friends forever. He caught the slight tick at the corner of my lip.

He shook his head and laughed. “A good ass is your kryptonite, my friend.”

To be honest, I was still trying to figure out what the hell had come over me a few hours ago. Not only did I invite this woman—yes, she had a spectacular ass—to move into my office, but I’d had to convince her to take me up on my offer. I repeat, I talked her into moving into my Park Avenue office—the space I loathed sharing with anyone—for free.

I tossed back the rest of my scotch and held up my hand to call for a refill.

“What kind of law does she practice?”

“She’s not a lawyer. She’s a psychologist.”

“A shrink? You’re going to have a bunch of crazy people walking around your office?”

I hadn’t exactly thought of that. What if her patients were psychotic with a variety of multiple personality disorders? Or ex-cons who slit the throats of old ladies but escaped hefty prison sentences because they were insane? I’m going to be murdered because of a great ass. No ass is worth that.

Then again…how sane are my own clients? Seventy-one-year-old Ferdinand Armonk, who is worth a hundred-million dollars, was arrested last year for assaulting his twenty-three-year-old bride with his cane because he caught her tongue between his physical therapist’s legs. This is the crazy I deal with on an everyday basis already.

I shrugged. “Her crazy can’t be much worse than my crazy.”

Candice Armonk had her husband arrested for hitting her with a cane and was trying to get half his net worth out of the divorce. Roman wasn’t just my best friend, he was also my private investigator and had worked the Armonk case. He’d found an old girl-on-girl porno Candice did at eighteen while she still lived in France. It was titled Candy Caned—she got off on women caning her, but apparently her husband giving her one whack that didn’t leave a mark was worth fifty mil. When she came to my office with her lawyer for a settlement conference, she’d refused to sit in the conference room with Ferdinand until I put the cane outside of the building.

The bartender brought my new drink and I sipped. “Crazy will fit right in.”

***

After a morning conference across town, I walked into my office and found Emerie pacing back and forth in my spare office wearing a headset as she talked on the phone. Her back was to me as I turned up the hallway, which gave me a chance to take my time checking her out. She had on a black fitted skirt that hugged her in all the right places and a white silky blouse. When she heard my footsteps, she turned, and I noticed her feet were bare. The bright red polish on her toes matched