Crossing the Line

Chapter 3:

I took a deep breath before walking back through the doors of my office. Ryan was waiting for me, and I didn’t want him to think anything was off. Manner and Moore hired sharks, and Ryan was one of the best. He could smell blood in the water from over a mile away, and his bullshit detector was even more powerful than that. He was good, and he knew it. That’s what made him a partner at such a young age, and a senior partner not long after that. He holds a lot of power in New York, and on top of that? He’s gorgeous. An absolutely lethal combination, and I think every female employed at this firm would absolutely jump at the chance to sleep with him. I used to think they were insane to think about jeopardizing their careers like that, but after what I just did, I don’t think I have any standing.

I slowly take a seat in one of the guest chairs I have set up on the other side, and the pain in my thighs has me swearing to myself I am never having s*x again. I look up at Ryan from my low chair (a little legal trick I employ — always give yourself the upper hand) and run through a list of possibilities as to why he would have requested this meeting. It couldn’t be about what just happened between Alec and I, he requested this meeting a week ago. But did he hear anything? Did anyone hear anything? Our offices are pretty soundproof —

“I’m taking you out to dinner this Thursday night.” My heart stopped. What did he just say?

“Sir?”

It’s all I can manage to spit out. I couldn’t possibly have heard him right. There’s no way he’s asking me out, so what is happening?

“Yes. Thursday at 6 pm. Meet me in the lobby and wear a dress that shows a little cleavage.”

He cannot be serious right now. I open my mouth to point out the fact that this is 2024 and he can’t talk to me like this, but the words don’t leave my mouth before he’s speaking again.

“Look, normally I would take Nate or Daniel with me to a dinner like this, but you’re the one who closed Morgan’s deal. That means, for at least right now, you’re the one the potential clients are going to want to see. Besides, you have the range. You’re a Philadelphia girl living in NYC, who just negotiated the biggest payout in NFL history from Kansas City. The teams know you. The players know of you. And now? Everyone wants you, so I’m taking you with me to woo over Christian McKnight. We want him as a client here, and I think between the two of us we can reel him in. His contract is up at the end of this season and his current firm is absolutely tanking discussions right now. His people reached out as soon as rumors broke of Morgan’s deal, and while I can close this by guaranteeing you’ll be apart of the negotiations, it certainly won’t hurt that you’re eye candy AND a great negotiator.”

Oh. My heart stops racing. This is for work, not for pleasure. Thank God. I was starting to freak out at the thought of having to turn down my boss, or even worse — go on a date and it end horribly. But I can do a business dinner. In fact, Ryan starting to rely on me puts my prospects bringing in more influential clients at an even better position. I quickly nod in understanding and ask if we have a report of where negotiations are currently at. Ryan explains that someone on McKnight’s team gave him the full rundown of the situation and the wide receiver wants out of Minnesota as soon as possible, but his negotiating team is severely undervaluing him. I quickly run through the list of teams and their needs in my head and realize the perfect place to approach: Kansas City. They’re looking to replace one of their wide receivers after a bad injury, and McKnight’s stats are unparalleled to anyone they have right now. I also happen to know exactly how much room is left in their cap. If not, we could reach out to the Raiders or the Patriots, but I don’t think they have the same funding available right now.

I share my thoughts with Ryan, who wants me to put feelers out on this immediately. After another hour of brainstorming, he leaves my office, and for the first time since 12 o’clock, I can breath easy again. I take a minute to go into my bathroom and clean Alec’s c*m off of my legs, splash my face with water, and then dive into work for the next four hours. At 7:30, I finally log my billables for the day, and begin to pack my tote for my commute home.

As I pack, my phone begins to light up. The group chat with my friends from home are all congratulating Alec on his contract. I also have a missed call from my mom and a missed text from Liz, my best friend, asking to get drinks tonight. I quickly shoot her a text that I could do Friday night, as I don’t want to be hungover Thursday and somehow she always convinces me to have the extra martini. Resolving to call my mom once I’m home, I order some food, throw my laptop in my bag, and hand off some files to the evening clericals before stepping into the elevator.

The ride down is quick, and as I step out onto 5th Avenue, I briefly debate whether I should just walk home through Central Park, before immediately realizing that’s the worst thing one could do alone at 7:45 at night. So instead, I hightail it past the Apple Store and my apartment on Park Avenue. Fifteen minutes later, I’m home, and the delivery boy with my Chinese food is waiting for me at the entrance.

Once I enter my apartment, I throw my stuff on the kitchen table, start to eat, and place the call to my mom. Unlike my friends, I’m sure she read the to the end of the articles and recognized my firm’s name and wants to know if this is the high-end deal I’ve been working on the past few months and when she answers, I won’t get a word in anyway. She picks up on the first ring, and the noise coming from her phone is overwhelming.

“SAMANTHA? CAN YOU HEAR ME?” She screams through the phone.

“Mom, I don’t think I even need the phone, I’ll just open a window.” I reply.

“HONEY, HOLD ON ONE SECOND I JUST —” She starts, and then the background goes quiet. “I’m sorry sweetie, we’re out to dinner celebrating with Matthew and Abigail. Alec called them right after he signed his deal and they’re just so excited for him. I wanted to know if this is the big deal you’ve been working towards for Kansas City the last few months.”

I purposely avoided telling my mother I was working for Alec’s negotiations. Part of the reason I’ve been so reluctant to go home these past few years is because of how close my family is with the Morgans. They’ve been best friends since before Alec and I were born and were over the moon when we started dating. However, after we broke up, my parents didn’t subscribe to the typical “f**k ‘em” mentality most parents develop towards their only child’s ex-boyfriend. Instead, they have continued to bring up reasons we should get back together every chance they got.Tonight was no exception and she didn’t miss a beat.

“Oh honey it must’ve been so nice to be back in each other’s lives after all these years. To see how you’ve grown individually. He’s grown into such a handsome and successful young man. Think of how good you two were together back then. That would be so much better now. Did you spend a lot of time together? Next time I see him I’ll be sure to ask him — ”

“Mom, please.”

Originally, I mistakenly assumed this would stop once I moved on and started bringing relationships around to meet them. However, after a few awkward dinners I had to abandon that idea all together. And somehow, not bringing guys around my parents made it even worse. Now they just assume I’m a cranky old cat woman who doesn’t speak to men ever. Forget the fact that I’m a highly successful attorney that has made some of the richest men in the country cave to me without even having to pop a button.

I pour myself a glass of wine and press the emergency brake on this conversation.

“Mom, aren’t you at dinner?”

“OH I am! My food is going to be cold. Can I call you later? I want to catch up!”

Chuckling to myself, I ask to call her on Friday, knowing I won’t get off the phone otherwise. Satisfied with my answer, she hangs up and I clean up the kitchen table and then sprawl across my couch. I put on How I Met Your Mother and zone out for an hour and a half before I give up and get in bed.

As I curl into my sheets, I laugh at the fact I’m actually going to bed at a reasonable hour — late nights at the office are my norm. But as I started to fall asleep my phone went off. Sighing, I reached over and unlocked it, praying it was not a work emergency that required me to head back into the office.

Unfortunately, my prayers were answered — it was not a work emergency. Instead, it was five words I never wanted to see.

“Can we please talk? - Alec”