Sugar

Before now, I have never really known what people meant when they called someone magnetic. I just made eye contact with him, and now I feel like I can’t breathe. I’m standing in the doorway of his enormous office, frozen, because his stare has turned my blood into ice. Could it just be his prestige, the knowledge that he’s millionaire Jared Simmons, that’s catching me so off guard, or is it him entirely?

I have always been good at reading people, but not now. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, can’t tell what his intentions are. I can’t tell if he’s annoyed, intrigued, or bored. I can’t see through him at all; it’s like he’s made of stone.

I tell myself to snap out of it, stop standing there just staring, and do what I came here to do—deliver the legal briefs. And I feel a second pair of eyes boring into me, making my face heat up. It’s the other named partner of Simmons & Rivas Law, the icy woman Gwen Rivas. The woman who never loses her composure, no matter how much duress she’s under during a trial.

Although I’m dressed professionally in a short-sleeve blouse, dress pants, and black pumps, with my blonde hair curled into perfect ringlets, I probably look like a deer caught in headlights. This new 25-year-old legal notary, fresh out of law school, being scrutinized up and down by two seasoned lawyers in their forties. It’s activating the fight-or-flight response in me.

But I break eye contact with him, straighten my back, and cross the room to give Gwen the papers I came here to deliver. All the while, Jared’s gray eyes are following me intensely, and I have to pretend it doesn’t affect me, doesn’t send shivers through my entire body. I give Gwen a quick summary of the legal briefings, having to tilt my head up because she’s at least six inches taller than me.

“What’s your name, dear?” Jared says suddenly, his expression dead serious, without the hint of a smile. I try not to show that it fazes me.

“I’m Bristol. Bristol Jacobsen,” I say with my practiced, professional smile that I’ve been using in the workplace. Jared reaches out and shakes my hand in a firm grasp, and my heart starts beating faster but I remain composed.

“You’re a first-year lawyer?” he asks.

“Yes,” I nod, keeping that smile plastered on my face.

“Will you come show me the papers.” It’s not a question. It’s a demand.

Gwen gives a sigh of exasperation. “Oh, come on, Jared. I can just look at them myself. It’s just that pro bono case we already discussed.”

“Remember, you only own half the company,” Jared says, waving his finger. His expression is teasing. They’re like a bickering married couple, I realize.

“It’s okay,” I tell Gwen. “I can just go over them real quick.” I’m cooperative, easy to work with. Sweet, kind, beautiful. Someone who’s easy to love. I clutch the folder to my chest and walk steadily over to Jared’s desk.

“Let me see,” Jared says, taking the folder from me. “This payment was due…27th of May…” he reads aloud. Then he seems to find something of significance. “Here. Right here, Bristol. What does this mean.”

Every time he asks a question, he phrases it like a statement.

I gingerly bend down a little to read the document and explain the little details to him, and I’m conscious of the fact that my blouse is unbuttoned enough that he can definitely see the rose-colored lace underneath, though he keeps his eyes fixed on my face. It’s such an awkward position, I could almost die, but I have to stay like this to see the small text on the document, and I can’t help but wonder if he did this on purpose. If this is a power play. Well, if it is, he underestimated me—I can handle this. I can be professional, even if my pulse is racing.

I look him squarely in his cold gray eyes and he doesn’t waver, only raises his eyebrows. “I just need your signature on the bottom line,” I tell him.

“Sure,” he says, taking the pen from my hand. He touches my fingers a little and I feel that freezing sensation again, like he has sent ice coursing through my veins. I don’t know what it is—my face is warm and blushing, but my body feels cold. I’m grateful that I can finally stand up straight again, and I close my folder with the papers. “Will that be all, Mr. Simmons?” I ask him, my expression blank.

“That will be all, Bristol,” he says, keeping that stony, impassive expression on his face. “I’ll see you around.” His eyes follow me as I leave the room, my heels clicking across the hardwood floor. And out of the corner of my eye, I can see Gwen’s disapproving expression. Whether it’s at me or him, I can’t tell. Probably at both of us at once.