Blindfolded Innocence

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“And?”

“And what? Do I seem the type to follow Broward’s directives?”

I shrugged in response. We had entered the West Wing conference room. The fluorescent lights were in the process of warming back up, so the light was still dim. I wrestled two of the Dr Peppers from the six-pack, placing them on the table. I put the other four cans in the minifridge and grabbed a roll of paper towels. Brad sat down and flipped open the pizza box, taking two slices and spinning the open box to me. I glanced in. Half pepperoni, half meat lover’s. I grabbed a slice of each and sat down, the two of us taking up one corner of the long table. There was silence for a moment as we dug in.

He spoke first. “So, this is the last time, huh?”

I nodded in response, my mouth full of pizza.

“You really think you’ll be able to stay away from me?”

“Oh, my lord!” I groaned and looked to the ceiling in mock exasperation. “Does your ego have no bounds? As I see it, you’ve been the one who can’t stay away.” I waved a pizza crust at him to emphasize my point.

“I take an interest in all of our interns. You are the future of our company.”

“Bullshit. Are you telling me you are bringing dinner to your favorite intern, Wu?”

“I’m not attracted to Wu.”

“And you are attracted to me?”

“Of course.” He had locked his ridiculously sexy stare on me and spoken softly, but with absolute confidence and conviction. I swallowed. I wanted this man so badly it hurt. Knowing I couldn’t have him made it that much more delicious.

“Well, if this is truly our last encounter, we might as well make it count.”

“Meaning what?” I squeaked.

“I want to know about you. Let’s finish our conversation from lunch. You can ask me anything you want, as long as I have the same privilege.”

“I’m not as exciting as you are.”

He turned that over in his mind, shaking his head gently as he thought god knew what. I started the game.

“I was told you were recently divorced. True?”

“Yes.”

“Details?”

He gave me a wry glance, put his hands together on the table, looked down at them and then at me.

“I have only been married once—to my college sweetheart. We were together eleven years, married for seven of those. Hillary is a great girl, but we were too different, too incompatible. I think we both realized our mistake early on. But we stayed together and miserable, hoping...I don’t know...that something would change. Nothing changed, and we separated.”

“Who represented her in the divorce?”

He smiled slightly. “No one. We both did it unrepresented.”

“That’s a little unfair.”

“It would have been if I hadn’t given her everything. There is nothing more she could have gotten. I’d say it was extremely fair.”

“Why did you give her everything?”

“I’ve seen divorce pull too many people to shreds. It turns people into horrible things, gets them to the point where they hate themselves as much as their exes. It happened to my parents, and is one of the reasons I went into this business. I make sure that I am the animal, the horrible one. I don’t want them to become that person. This way the couple stays civil and a fair arrangement is made.” He shrugged, taking another slice of pizza. “At least that’s the plan. It often goes astray.”

“I’m not buying the nobility you paint divorce attorneys with.”

“Hey, it normally works for chicks at the bar.” He grinned.

“Were you faithful?”

“To Hillary? No. I had an affair that lasted the last year of our marriage. It ended before my divorce, but was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

“She found out?”

“I didn’t make much of an effort to hide it. I think I wanted to get caught, wanted a way out. She overlooked it for a while, until my affair started leaving her voice mails describing our indiscretions.”

“Why?”

“She wanted a relationship. My wife got in the way of that. I tried to break it off and she got mad, thought that she might have a chance if Hillary dumped me. Can we discuss something else?”

“Why did your parents divorce?”

His expression became even more pained. I was obviously choosing the wrong topics. “She disagreed with my father’s business practices, and it divided them. She eventually left us to be with a man she felt was more suited to her moral compass.”

“Us?” At his confused look I tried again. “You said she left us.”

“Children were a nonnegotiable in my father’s eyes. Family loyalty is of utmost importance to him. She knew that by leaving him, she would be leaving us, as well. I haven’t seen her since then.”

“Why didn’t you reach out to her as an adult?”

“I felt abandoned as a child. As my father’s son, she regarded me with the same level of disdain. It pissed me off as a teenager, but as an adult, I appreciate the unintended effect it had on my life.”

“And what effect is that?”

“I am driven by the need to always be the best. Whatever insecurities I got from her dismissal have helped me strive for, and attain, success. In both my personal and professional life.”

“I don’t see screwing strangers as a successful personal life.”

He met my scornful look solidly. “Don’t knock something till you’ve tried it. This lifestyle is what I want right now. I’ll know when I’m ready to settle down.”

“I take it another side effect was your inability to accept rejection?”

“If you’re referring to your resistance to spending time with me, I don’t view it as rejection, just an unawareness of the allure of my charms and the inevitability of our friendship.” He grinned at me confidently.

I took a bite of pizza and tried not to stare into his gorgeous features. “I have a feeling your friends turn into jilted ex-lovers more often than not.”

“I’d love to show you how wrong you are.” His eyes practically sizzled my skin as they roamed my body, and I had to stop myself from choking on my food. He took mercy on me, though, and changed the subject. “My turn to interrogate. What’s the deal with Bob?”

“Bob is a guy I met the other night at a bar. That’s about the extent of the story.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“What? No!”

“Really.” His voice was laced with disbelief.

“Yes, really. I went home with him, but all we did was make out. I took a taxi home afterward. I’m not a slut—I had just met the guy!”

“Yet you made enough of an impression that he tracked you down at work?”

I looked at him cockily over the half slice in my hand. “I guess I make quite an impression.” His eyes darkened and he looked so fucking hot I had to look away. Easy, Julia.

“How many men have you slept with?”

I swallowed hard, willing the chunk of pepperoni down my throat while my mind raced. I pretended to chew and waved my hand in front of my face, making the “wait a minute” sign. He looked on with amusement, enjoying my discomfort. Damn man. What is the rule with this? I multiply the real number? Or is it divide? Holy hell.

In my panic, I just decided to go with the truth. “Two.”

His look was slightly confused, and then sharpened. “Two? How old are you? Did you have a long-term relationship?” His questions came out in a clump, and faster than I was able to answer them.