“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

Gigi reached down and picked up a black purse off the ground. She hoisted it onto her shoulder and said, “You’re buying.”

“It’s a date.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

Chapter 8

SMALL DICK

Lunch was uneventful.

Clay wasn’t much of a comforter to begin with, and Gigi looked like the last thing she wanted was for someone to comfort her. In fact, she seemed more like the type of girl to drown herself in alcohol instead of talking about her problems. And that was exactly what she did. The double shot of vodka had multiplied to the point where he actually had to cut her off. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever done that for someone before. But, Christ, they still had work to do that afternoon.

“I don’t want to go back,” Gigi said. She had her hand on her forehead. “I can’t stand another grueling day in that building.”

“You don’t like it?” he asked. He had just paid the check and was trying to urge her out of her seat.

“Oh, I fucking love it. Why else would I have gotten a hundred thousand dollars in debt to slave away at a crazy mega firm? I mean…you have to be insane to want this.”

“Pretty much.”

“I’m shocked you’re doing it. Can’t you just ride the connection train to get whatever you want?” she slurred slightly.

Clay’s brow furrowed as they exited the pub.

“You’re a Maxwell after all.”

“Yeah, I guess I could,” he said stiffly.

She didn’t need to know that he was doing this for a specific reason. She was kind of drunk, and he was supposed to be shadowing her for the next couple of weeks. He didn’t normally mix business with pleasure. He’d made exceptions, but none of them had ended well. Made it easier when he didn’t have to remember their names.

“Oh, ho!” she slurred. “Want to make a name for yourself without Daddy’s help then? I saw how you reacted when Marcus”—she hiccuped over his name—“mentioned your brother.”

“Let’s not talk about him.”

She nodded. “Marcus is a dick.”

“Small Dick.”

She laughed and nodded. “Not entirely inaccurate.”

“No dude can wear skinny jeans like that if he’s packing.”

Clay managed to get her into the passenger seat of his Porsche. He was glad that he’d driven. It wasn’t often when he was the responsible one. This was a weird change, as if he’d somehow stepped into a parallel universe of his life.

Gigi babbled on the entire way back to the office. It wasn’t far, but he hadn’t wanted to walk outside in the fucking frigid temperature. D.C. always turned bitter cold right before the inauguration, and he wasn’t looking forward to standing outside through that shit again.

Clay parked his car and killed the engine when he realized Gigi must have said something to him. “What?”

She trailed her finger down his face. “You’re handsome.”

He smirked. “I know.”

“Jerk,” she said halfheartedly. “You’re a mistake, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said because he recognized that, in this instance, it was true.

Gigi was hot. But she wasn’t some casual acquaintance. He’d have to see her every day. He’d have to work with her on cases.

Plus…Andrea.

A smile crooked onto his face at the thought of her. Even if they were on rocky terms, that didn’t mean he wanted to make the same mistake she’d made with Bad Suit. He didn’t want a relationship. He’d already seen what one looked like, thanks to Gigi and Small Dick. He already had one that was perfect just the way it was.

So, he acted like the dick she expected. “I don’t like pantsuits.”

She jolted slightly. “Well, you can take it off.”

Damn. “I’m not interested,” he said tersely.

“Yes, you are.”

Yes, I am. Damn, how did I turn a hot chick down?

“Just because your boyfriend broke up with you doesn’t mean that you need to spread your legs for the first guy who is nice to you,” he said cruelly.

Her eyes hardened, and she straightened immediately. She jerked the car door open and was already halfway across the parking garage when he got out of the car. The elevator took long enough that he caught up with her.

All the humor was gone from her face. She stepped into the elevator and turned to stare straight into Clay’s face. “You work on your cases; I’ll work on my cases. Otherwise, you can go to hell.”

The door slid closed, and he sighed. Jesus Christ! This was going to be a fucking shitty situation. He’d known he shouldn’t have listened to his dad about the law firm.

The next week was miserable. Gigi acted as if he didn’t exist. Not that he gave a fuck, but it made it difficult to do anything when he was supposed to be working with her. This was why he didn’t get involved with people at work. They made shit complicated. It didn’t have to be complicated.

By the time Friday rolled around, Clay was fucking ready to get out of the place. The office closed around four o’clock, but he knew enough people would be working well into the night and some even during the long weekend. But not him. Not yet at least.

Clay sent a text to his friends, Ethan and Cash, and headed out the door.

Drinks tonight?

Gigi walked into the elevator next to him. She crossed her arms and avoided looking at him. He didn’t know what her deal was. So, he’d turned her down. She’d been pretty demanding about wanting to fuck him. As far as he was concerned, he’d done her a favor. She didn’t need to be a bitch about it.

“You’re taking over your own cases on Monday. I just spoke with Mr. Cooper,” she snapped.

“So, she does speak,” he drawled.

She glared at him. “And you shouldn’t.”

Clay shrugged. Lately, everyone had been blowing things way out of proportion.

“You know, I thought you were a nice guy when I met you at the bar that first day, but I should have known better after you punched Marcus. Not sure why it took me so long to realize it when you showed back up.”

“You were drunk. I don’t fault you for not being coherent.”