Conflict of Interest
1157 Words
By the time I reached my apartment, I had convinced myself the stranger from the roadside was a closed chapter.
That was the lie I needed to sleep.
I dropped my briefcase by the door, kicked off my heels, and stood in the quiet, city noise humming faintly through the windows. My apartment was immaculate—organized shelves, color-coded files stacked neatly on the dining table, a law journal bookmarked precisely where I’d left it the night before. Control lived here. Order. Predictability.
Which was why the memory of a broad-shouldered hockey player with an aggravating smile felt like an intruder.
I poured myself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, staring at nothing.
I hadn’t asked his name.
That was deliberate. Names led to familiarity. Familiarity led to complications. Complications were things I cross-examined for a living, not entertained in my personal life.
And yet.
The way he’d looked at me—like he was amused, curious, patient in a way that suggested he rarely had to wait for anything. The quiet confidence in his movements. The heat of his presence when he leaned in just enough to make my breath stutter.
Ridiculous.
I shook my head and reached for my phone.
**Maya:** *Tell me you’re home safe.*
Maya Alvarez. Best friend. Colleague. The only person who knew exactly how much I disliked surprises—and how easily I attracted them.
**Me:** *Home. Car towed. Pride injured.*
The reply came instantly.
**Maya:** *And the mystery man?*
I sighed.
**Me:** *There is no mystery man.*
A pause.
**Maya:** *Joan.*
I smiled despite myself.
**Me:** *He was just… someone.*
**Maya:** *Uh-huh. Someone with shoulders, I’m guessing.*
I didn’t respond.
She took that as confirmation.
---
The next morning grounded me again.
Courtrooms had that effect—cold marble floors, controlled chaos, the sharp smell of coffee and ambition. I slipped into my navy blazer and professional composure like muscle memory. Joan Williams, attorney-at-law. Focused. Prepared. Unimpressed.
The woman from yesterday—the one distracted by strong forearms and low laughter—was firmly locked away.
Or so I thought.
“Morning, Williams.”
I looked up to see **Elliot Brooks** standing beside my desk, tie immaculate, smile smug. Elliot was competent, charming, and perpetually convinced he was the smartest person in any room.
“Good morning,” I said politely. “If you’re here to gloat, I have a hearing in ten.”
“I’m here to congratulate you.”
That caught my attention. “On?”
He leaned casually against the desk. “You’ve been assigned as legal counsel for tonight’s Wolves charity event.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Contract oversight. Risk management. Player conduct issues.”
The words registered slowly.
The Wolves.
The city’s beloved hockey team. The one whose arena sat less than three blocks from my firm. The one whose players were as famous for their tempers as they were for their talent.
“I didn’t agree to that,” I said.
“You didn’t have to. Margaret did.”
Of course she did.
Elliot smirked. “Don’t worry. You’re perfect for it. Professional. Detached. Immune to athlete charm.”
I gave him a look sharp enough to file a grievance.
---
Across town, practice ended with a whistle sharp enough to cut through bone.
“Again!” Coach Rick Holloway barked. “And this time, focus.”
Jayden skated back into position, jaw clenched, sweat sliding down his spine beneath his training shirt. He prided himself on discipline, but today his mind refused to stay on the ice.
Yesterday replayed in fragments.
A woman with sharp eyes and sharper wit. A mouth that challenged him even when she was annoyed. A body held with restraint, like she was constantly bracing against something she didn’t allow herself to want.
He hadn’t caught her name.
That bothered him more than it should have.
“Problem?” Luca Moretti asked, gliding beside him.
“No.”
Luca grinned. “You’ve missed three passes.”
Jayden exhaled. “Drop it.”
Tyson Reed skated by, laughing. “He won’t. You look like a man distracted.”
Jayden said nothing.
That was answer enough.
---
The gala that evening was everything I disliked about public events.
Polished smiles. Flashing cameras. Athletes pretending to enjoy small talk while sponsors pretended not to stare. I stood near the edge of the ballroom, reviewing documents on my tablet, reminding myself this was work.
Nothing more.
Then the room shifted.
I felt it before I saw him.
The same broad frame. The same effortless confidence. Dressed in a tailored suit that did nothing to hide the power beneath it. No tie. Open collar. Controlled arrogance.
Our eyes met.
Recognition flickered—then interest.
He smiled slowly.
My stomach betrayed me.
He approached like he owned the floor, like the space between us was inevitable.
“Well,” he said, voice low. “This feels familiar.”
I straightened. “You’re part of this event?”
“Unfortunately,” he replied. “You?”
“Professional obligation.”
He studied me, gaze unapologetic. “You look different.”
“So do you.”
“Better or worse?”
“Less annoying,” I lied.
He chuckled. “Progress.”
I gestured to the chair across the table. “Please sit. This is a legal review.”
His brow lifted. “That so?”
“Yes. And before you say anything else, this interaction is strictly professional.”
“Shame,” he said easily, taking the seat. “I was hoping for mildly personal.”
I ignored that.
“Full name?” I asked, fingers poised above my tablet.
He hesitated.
Just a fraction.
Something unreadable crossed his face.
Before he could answer, a woman approached—elegant, composed, with the same eyes.
“There you are,” she said warmly. “I was looking for you.”
She turned to me. “You must be the lawyer.”
I nodded. “Joan Williams.”
The woman smiled. “Elena. His sister.”
My gaze snapped back to him.
Sister.
He looked… almost guilty.
“And this,” Elena continued, “is my brother.”
He met my eyes.
“Jayden.”
The name landed like a gavel.
Jayden.
The hockey player.
The man from yesterday.
The one I’d sworn I wouldn’t see again.
Before I could respond, my supervisor’s voice cut through the room.
“Joan.”
Margaret Liu stood a few feet away, expression grave.
“There’s been a development,” she said quietly. “A legal situation involving one of the players.”
My pulse quickened.
“Which player?”
Margaret glanced past me.
Straight at him.
“Jayden Cole.”
Silence stretched between us.
His jaw tightened.
And in that moment, I understood exactly how badly things were about to unravel.
Because I wasn’t just attracted to him anymore.
I was about to represent him.
- Writer
