Mis-Judge By His Secretary

2

Nathan

When I saw her at the courthouse steps, tumbling backward like a baby deer on ice, I wanted to let her fall. I really did. It wasn't out of cruelty, I just didn't need the hassle.

But I didn't let her fall.

Because, for better or worse, l was still human, no matter what the staff whispered about me when they think I was not listening.

"Judge Iceberg," "The Robot”… I've heard it all. I just didn’t care enough to correct them.

Now, though, I was starting to care.

Because here she was, standing in my office with wide eyes and parted lips, her tongue darting out to wet them. Pink.

Everything about her mouth was pink, soft, and... distracting. And for reasons I couldn't quite pin down, that bothered me.

"H-hello," she stammered, her voice light and tentative, like she was afraid of breaking the silence.

I leaned back in my chair, keeping my face impassive even as my gaze flicked over her. She was familiar in a way that nagged at me. Like I had seen her before but couldn't place where.

I looked at her again, studying those f**k-me eyes. She had looked at me the same way on the courthouse steps.

My jaw tightened.

She wasn't doing it on purpose, of course.

Women like her, the kind with messy ponytails and clothes that didn't scream designer label, like the others before her that had came in for an interview, didn't realize they were beautiful. It wasn't an act. It was just... her.

But damn, those hips. Those curves. The way her pants hugged them was almost criminal. My mind took a quick, unbidden detour down a road it had no business going. A road that ended with me holding on to those hips, her back arching-

Get a grip, Nathan.

I cleared my throat, snapping myself out of it. "Have a seat, Ms…” I trailed off, glancing at my computer screen where her résumé was pulled up. "Rhodes."

She blinked like she had forgotten how to move for a second, then quickly slid into the chair across from me. "Thank you, Judge West," she said softly, her voice wrapping around my name in a way that made it sound almost... intimate.

I shouldn't have liked it. I really shouldn't have.

But I did.

And that was going to be a problem.

I folded my hands on the desk, forcing my focus onto the interview, where it belonged. “So, Ms. Rhodes, tell me why you’re interested in this position.”

It was the same question I had asked the three candidates before her. The ones with their pristine résumés, Ivy League educations, and practiced smiles.

She swallowed, her throat working, and I could tell she was nervous. Not in the rehearsed, calculated way, but genuinely. And for some reason, I liked that.

“Well,” she began, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I know my résumé isn’t as polished as some of the other candidates you’ve probably interviewed. But I’m here because I’m capable. I’m organized, dependable, and I work well under pressure. And…” she hesitated, like she was debating whether to continue, then lifted her chin with a quiet kind of courage that had me leaning forward. “And I’ve had to fight for everything I’ve accomplished. Nothing has come easy for me, so I don’t take opportunities like this for granted.”

Her voice didn’t waver, but there was something raw beneath her words, something that hinted at a story she wasn’t telling me.

And damn it, I liked that too.

The other candidates had given polished answers about “career growth” and “working for a distinguished member of the judiciary.” But none of them had spoken with the conviction Eleanor Rhodes just had.

I cleared my throat again, needing a moment to get my head on straight. “What do you think is the most important quality for someone in this role?”

She didn’t even blink. “Adaptability,” she said immediately. “Because no two days in this job will be the same. You have to be ready for the unexpected, whether it’s a last-minute filing or dealing with people who aren’t exactly thrilled about being in court.”

I leaned back, studying her. She wasn’t wrong.

“And what makes you think you can handle that?” I pressed, watching her carefully.

She gave me a small smile, but it was real, and it hit me square in the chest. “Because I’ve been handling the unexpected my whole life. And I’m still standing.”

The answer was so simple, so honest, it knocked the wind out of me. She wasn’t here to impress me with buzzwords or padded credentials. She was here because she needed this job, and she was damn well going to earn it.

It was the exact kind of grit and practicality I’d been looking for. The kind the others, with their designer shoes and carefully curated lives, didn’t have.

I leaned forward, snapping my fingers. “You realize this position requires discretion. A lot of it.”

“Yes, Judge West.” Her eyes met mine, steady and unwavering. “I understand that. I also understand that this isn’t just about filing paperwork or answering phones. It’s about making your life easier so you can focus on what matters. And I can do that.”

Good! She knows this is also like a personal assistant kind of thing, unlike the other people usually telling me it wasn’t part of their job description, like they expected me to deal with running downstairs to get my own coffee and things like that.

I wanted to hire her.

Hell, I wanted her to start today even though it was a Thursday.

But I also wanted to pull her across this desk, push her against the wall, and lose myself in the softness of her lips, the warmth of her skin, the curve of her…

No.

I clenched my jaw, forcing those thoughts back into the dark, forbidden corner of my mind.

I couldn’t hire her. Not when she made me feel like this. Not when the mere sight of her was enough to unravel years of carefully constructed detachment.

But as I looked at her, those hopeful, determined eyes of hers locked on mine, and I knew I was screwed.

Because I wasn’t sure I would be able to say no. Besides, the temp was already on my last nerve, and I needed to hire someone permanent today.

I was known as a man of control, but I was losing it fast with this woman, and I had only ever lost control like that once before, one that turned out to be a huge mistake. Although, what we shared was real, but…

Wait a minute.

The thought blindsided me so fast, I almost let it show on my face. Her. It was her.

Years peeled back in an instant, memories snapping into place like puzzle pieces I hadn’t even realized were missing. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but there was no mistaking it. She was the young woman from that night… the night years ago.

The one I had had a passionate, reckless encounter with.

The one who, the morning after, I found out was eighteen.

I had been twenty-three, ambitious, and painfully aware of what a scandal like that could do to a career I had only just started building. So, I had done the only thing I could think of. I ran. Like a coward. Fled the hotel room without so much as a goodbye because the risk was too great, and the guilt was too heavy.

And now, here she was, standing in front of me.

Time had refined her, polished her edges. The raw beauty I remembered had deepened into something even more arresting, something confident yet unknowingly disarming. But the way she carried herself; completely oblivious to who I was… told me she didn’t remember that night.

Good. That was good.

But my relief was tinged with something else, something far more dangerous. We weren’t two mismatched strangers anymore, weren’t separated by that line I’d run so far to avoid crossing.

We were adults now.

There was nothing stopping us. Except for the fact that I don’t mix business with pleasure. I don’t.

And yet, as she stood there, waiting for me to speak, I felt myself walking a very fine line.

I may want her in two ways; one entirely professional, the other anything but… but there was only one way I could take her.

Before I could stop myself, I said. “Congratulations, Ms. Rhodes. You’re hired.”