The Lawyer: Gave Me Sex Love Taste

I brought her into the kitchen, where the meat was sitting in a pool of marinade, rising to room temperature-a trick I’d learned from my father that made the beef juicier. The vegetables were next to it, all cut to the size I wanted.

She eyed up both and wrapped her arms around my waist. “I’m impressed. Admittedly, I semi-expected your chef to be here. I’m really happy he’s not.”

My thumb traced her bottom lip before I kissed it.This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

The truth was, our chef was tied up at Ford’s house tonight, but I wouldn’t have used him. I knew my cooking would mean more to Kendall than having my chef here.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“I’ll start grilling.”

She loosened her arms, and I took the meat and vegetables outside. There were four different cuts of beef that I set on the grill-my goal was to give us a variety of flavors. On the other side of the flames, I lined up the large mushroom caps and cubed onions that I wanted caramelized for the steaks along with bell peppers and jalapenos. I made sure the temperature wasn’t too high and shut the lid.

“Thirsty?”

I nodded. “There are limes by the bar and several different kinds of tequila on the shelves. If you’re feeling wine, there’s red in the racks and white in the fridge below.”

“Fresh lime juice. God, you’re amazing.” Her fingers went to my face, and I kissed them before they landed. “What can I get you?”

“Red. It’ll go perfectly with dinner.”

“I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared inside, and through the windows, I watched her walk to my wet bar. She looked so natural in my house, like one of the floor-to-ceiling art pieces that decorated the walls in my home. And, goddamn it, she was stunning. She put her back to me as she scanned my wine collection, reading a few labels before choosing one and pouring it into two Bordeaux glasses.

She handed me my drink when she came back outside, clinking our wines together. “To our first home-cooked meal.”

“Our second.”

The sexiest smile stretched across her face. “I would hardly call eating Mexican at your desk a home-cooked meal.”

“I would.” I grazed her chin with my fingers. “And it was fucking amazing.”

“Okay, okay, to our second meal, then.” She took a drink. “But now, I owe you something really tasty if I’m going to compete with what you’ve done here.”

I set the glass on the counter of my summer kitchen and checked the food. “Whatever you make, I’m positive I’ll enjoy it.”

She closed her eyes, inhaling the scents wafting off the grill. “I know exactly what I’m going to do, but I’m going to need to borrow your kitchen since we know date night can’t happen at mine.”

“It’s all yours. You can make yourself at home.”

She leaned into me, hugging our bodies together. “I like the sound of those words.”

My lips went to her neck, where I devoured her scent, taking several whiffs before I surrounded her earlobe. “You know what I like? The thought of you in my kitchen.”

“Dominick,” she breathed, quivering, “if you keep that up, we’re definitely skipping the eating part of this meal, and that would be a real travesty because I’m dying to attack that rib eye.”

As she moved to one of the lounge chairs, I poked the meat with the tongs, checking the texture to see what temperature it had reached. “Five more minutes.”

“Whatever you say, chef.” She held her wine against her chest, her legs curled underneath her, feet bare and crossed. “I want to ask you something. I’m not trying to dampen the mood, but I have to know.” She stopped to take a breath. “Did you talk to Daisy about the attorney stuff?”

I sat in the lounge chair beside hers. “Yes.”

“I need more than yes, mister. I need details.”

I’d planned on telling her later tonight. I was just waiting for the right moment.

But when it came to Daisy, I was learning there never was a right time. All she did was cause Kendall anxiety and anguish, and I couldn’t fucking stand it.

“I didn’t think it was professional if the conversation took place over the phone or through email, so I had her come in today.”

Her eyes widened. “And?”

For confidentiality reasons, I couldn’t say Daisy had immediately blamed her, how she went on the attack, ranting about Kendall before I kicked her ass out, telling her my firm would no longer represent her anymore.

I wouldn’t tolerate that behavior, no matter who it came from.

And I wouldn’t sit there and listen to her accuse my girlfriend of something that wasn’t her fault.

Instead, I told Kendall, “It went exactly the way you’d expect.”

“I’m assuming that means, she lost her mind?”

“The Dalton Group won’t be working with Daisy. Ever again.”

Streaks of emotion shot across her face. “Dominick, I’m so sorry.”

“Baby, for what?” I reached across the space between us, grazing the back of her arm. “You’ve done nothing wrong. This is all on her.”

She was silent, staring at the pool, at the hills of homes across from mine. “I feel responsible for her actions. I mean, if it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t be having these outbursts.” She glanced at me. “Which, I assume, was ugly?”

When I wouldn’t give her a confirmation, she looked away again, tucking her legs against her chest.

“Have you heard from her?”

She continued to look straight ahead when she replied, “No, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time.” She sighed. “I don’t want this. I know you know that, but I still need to say it.” She wrapped her arms around her knees. “She had a crush on Presley Jordan, so she must be beside herself over that Celebrity Alert. She lost her unicorn agent and manager, followed by her incredible attorney. It seems like I’m trying to steal everything away from her, and that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“She knows about us.”

Her head turned so fast; she could have gotten fucking whiplash. “How?”

“I don’t know.”

“Dominick …” She dropped her feet on the pavers, taking several drinks of her wine. “She went from being on top of the world to feeling like she was going to lose it all, and that happened the moment I got just the tiniest bit of attention.”

“It’s getting worse.”

She stared at me for several moments. “What do you mean?”

“At the beginning of this week, I heard she lost one of her endorsements. Apparently, an incident had happened on set while they were shooting a campaign, and they paid her what they owed her and canceled her contract.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Brands keep things quiet. They don’t like drama-it hurts business-so you won’t hear about this unless she tells people, which she won’t.”

“Oh my God.” Her hand went to her forehead. “I used to pay her bills and balance her checkbook; I know how much income those sponsorships generated. And now … they’re all going away.”