This evidence would have the new “witness’s” testimony thrown out before it was even heard. Did the prosecution do no homework? This was ridiculous. Chase would eat this boy alive if he did testify. He would then turn the tables on the family and rake them through the coals and make sure they burned.
But right now, tonight, it was about me being pissed the fuck off at Chase. He could thank me later for the detective work I did. It wasn’t like it was hard. It was easy. Almost too easy. The prosecution seriously was a joke in this case, and it was disappointing.
I looked at the clock. It was closing in on midnight. I groaned in disappointment at myself. I sat back in my chair, and my head lolled back and rested on the headrest. I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh. The longer I sat there, the more the rage continued to rise. I gritted my teeth and opened my eyes. I fisted my hands and then howled in frustration.
“Who the hell does he think he is?” I said out loud. “With his Gucci shoes and Armani blazer?” I stood and pushed the chair back with my legs. “His amazing cologne that makes me feel dumb because I can’t think around him?”
I pushed away from the table and placed my fists on my hips. While he was off gallivanting around town, I was stuck here missing the wedding rehearsal. The bride would never forgive me if I didn’t show up tomorrow. The wedding was so important. I had to be there, no matter what. Chase had to understand that.
One of the walls of his office was lined with shelves of law books. Another wall held his credentials from Harvard Law, University of North Texas, and a few of the recognitions he’d received from the charity work he did.
Across the room, next to one of the framed plaques, I spied his liquor cabinet. I made a beeline for it and opened the panel. Inside was expensive Scotch, brandy, and who knew what else. They were all brown liquid, and I wasn’t picky. I wasn’t what you’d call an expensive drinker. If you gave me a beer, I was good.
However, I knew Scotch was pricy, and what better way to get back at my douchebag of a boss than by drinking his most favorite spirit?
I grabbed a glass and pulled the top off the crystal bottle that held the brown contents. Both probably cost more than two years of my current intern salary. I poured myself a glass and then brought it to my lips. I sniffed the contents and cringed. Scotch was strong, yet so was brandy. I had tasted brandy once. I wasn’t a fan. Hopefully I liked the Scotch, because I planned to drink a lot of it tonight.
“Fucking asshole,” I said and sipped the contents. When I swallowed, I growled with the burning sensation as the contents slipped down my throat. Surprisingly, it warmed my belly in a delightful way. “Not so bad,” I said to myself and took another sip. Then another and another. Before I realized it, I had to refill my glass.
“I hate my boss. I hate him!” I looked at one of his pictures, where he was shaking hands with the governor of Texas. I pointed at it. “I hate you, Chase Newstrom!”
I took another drink and then held my arms straight up, as if I were cheering for myself. In a way, I was. “You are the world’s worst boss and biggest asshole I have ever come across!” I then giggled at my words. “Well, you personally have never made me come, but damn, have I had some erotic dreams about you.”
I laughed once more and then shook off the erotic notions of Chase. He had been a dick tonight, and I would not give in to the pleasure of anything erotic in his name. What if he had plans and I had insisted he stayed? Oh, that’s right, he did have plans. Well, boo-fucking-hoo.
“Get your knob blown and come back in here and help a girl out!” The Scotch was starting to work its magic, and I was feeling quite woozy. And woozy felt delightful. My body warmed, and my skin flushed from the liquor.
“You know what you need, Mr. Newstrom? You need a swift kick in your ass!” I grabbed the bottle of Scotch, crossed the room back to his desk, and then kicked his chair. It spun toward me, and I took a seat in it. The leather was cool to my body, and for a moment, I relished in it.
I kicked off my shoes and poured more liquor into my glass. I took another sip and stared down at the personalized letterhead notepad on his desk. Next to it was a quill he said he brought back from Venice.
I smirked. Tonight called for a note. No, a letter. The letter of all letters to the world’s worst but sexiest boss.
Dear Mr. Chase Newstrom—
I drew out a long line after his name and then tapped the pen on the paper.
You, sir, are an asshole. Not just any asshole, mind you, the world’s biggest asshole. Your asshole is so big that it would take the world’s largest tampon to seal you over. You have no idea what you did tonight, nor do you actually care. Which is a problem. The world is not about you, it doesn’t revolve around you, and if you took a minute to smell the fucking roses, you’d see there was life revolving AROUND you.
I took another sip of Scotch and licked the residue off my upper lip. I decided I really liked Scotch. I wasn’t sure how much this liquor was, but I knew it would be a shame to let it go later when I would need to pee. I continued with my hate mail.
I had a wedding to attend this weekend, and thanks to you, I now have to skip it.
Thanks to you, my friends will never forgive me. Thanks to you, my friend, who is the bride, will most likely kill me. Thanks to you, my parents will disown me for putting my job first. Thanks to you, I’ll be the laughingstock of my friendship circle. Well, the circle I had, which is completely gone now, so thanks for that.
I paused and took another sip of Scotch. My eyes grew blurry as the words spilled out of me.
You walk in here with that tight ass of yours, in your designer clothes, and you smell so good. Even the days you come in with your workout clothes on. The sweaty clothes cling to your body like some sort of drive-me-crazy carnal paint. You take my breath away when you step into a room. Your eyes seduce me in ways that only my erotic dreams can handle. You make me weak in the knees, and I can’t look at you longer than a few minutes for fear of lunging into your arms.
And if given a chance, I would ruin you for any other woman. I would do things to you you’ve never experienced with anyone else. Hell, I would let you ruin me for any other man.
I wasn’t sure what I would do that was so miraculous, but damn it, I would definitely go down trying!
I find myself longing for you, wondering what you would feel like inside me, to have you on top of me, or your face between my legs. I close my eyes and fantasize about seducing you, straddling your body and claiming you as my own. There have been many nights I wanted to tell you how I felt, but you barely even know I exist. It hurts so much to know there’s something you want so desperately but no matter what you do, you’ll never have it. Much less deserve it.
But I do deserve it, Chase. I deserve the world and so much more. I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I am today. So maybe the joke’s on you. So why don’t you take your tight ass and your well-built body I could bounce a quarter off of and go to hell. Go jerk off to whatever woman is floating your boat this week. I’ll pray for you that your dick doesn’t shrivel up and fall off!