Client Confidentiality

(52) Carlie 🔥

Okay, I'm worried now. 

I'm usually a pretty chilled out person when it comes to preparing for trial. It relaxes me. The paperwork and routine of making sure each witness statement is bullet-proof is a calming ritual I allow myself for the sheer purpose of helping my clients. 

But when the client is myself? 

Fucking terrifying. 

My eyes strain painfully to re-read over the document I've been focusing all my attention on for the past two hours. No matter how many times I try, the words don't seem to to look right on the page but I can't figure out what is missing. 

Everyone left the office hours ago, but I'm still sat here at three in the morning, trying my hardest to perfect the case that has the potential to, not only bankrupt the firm, but end my career. My work clothes have long been ditched for a set of pyjamas that I keep stocked in my office. The long nights I've spent over the past two weeks have called for me to keep a wardrobe here to change into. In fact, I can't remember the last time I saw sunlight when it wasn't streaming through the windows. 

My calf cramps from my curled up position on my desk chair but I ignore it, along with my headache that has been pressing against my skull for hours now. I give up on the statement on my computer and stand up from my desk. Pins and needles shoot through my legs and my head pounds as a warning. 

Taking a quick break, I walk over to the kitchen and turn on the kettle. Resting against the black, sleek, kitchen counter, I pull my baby blue cardigan over my chest and fold my arms. It matches my flowing pyjama bottoms and crop top, which are the comfiest things I own right now. With one hand, I scratch at my messy ponytail, holding up the greasy hair that I haven't washed in a week. 

Every ounce of energy I have has been poured into preparing for this trial. I've neglected myself since Hannah told me the consequences of failing and my OCD has taken over completely. Each part of the case has been meticulously poured over and I've checked everyone's work, no matter how small their contribution. 

The only time I've taken for myself is working through the box of tissues on my organised desk. I've spilt so many tears over the terrifying possibilities swarming around in my head. The stress is going to cause me to have a breakdown, but if it means I'll save my firm, I'll take it. 

Swirling the tea bag around my mug, I walk back into my office and resume my seat at my desk. With fresh eyes, I manage to figure out what was missing from the document and quickly finish typing it up. I'm so lost in work-mode that I don't realise anyone has entered the room until I register two warm hands on my shoulders and a kiss on my cheek. 

"Carlie," Elijah's low voice sends a chill down my spine. I shake my head and continue typing aggressively until someone else pries my hands from the keyboard. 

"Enough work now, trouble," Cal warns seductively. 

I open my mouth to argue but slam it shut when Elijah spins my chair around to face all three of them. They're not in their usual suits, instead each wearing sweats and hoodies that look illegally good on their toned bodies. 

"When did you last eat, Kitten?" Zach asks. His voice is raspy as though he's been dragged out of bed for this and I sigh. 

"I don't know," I shrug, searching around them to check on the organised piles which dawn every surface in the room. Food hasn't been my priority, but I'm grateful for Hannah routinely placing take-out on my desk. 

"Carlie. You need to turn your brain off," Elijah coaxes as he crouches in front of me. I frown, my mouth moving as I whisper legal jargon I need to write down before I forget. My fingers scramble out to find a notepad but my hand quickly gets pinned back. Being the usual brute he is, Cal lifts me from my chair and forces me to stand in the middle of the three of them. I close my eyes and recite the strands of my opening argument over and over in my head. 

"She's spaced out completely," I hear Elijah comment. He sounds exasperated but I'm too busy crafting this argument to figure out why. 

"She needs sleep," Zach adds. 

"I don't need sleep," I bite back before turning my attention back to work. My eyes burn from my eyelids being closed, the lack of sleep causing physical pain now. 

"Alright, that's it," Cal grumbles and I squeal as I'm lifted onto my desk. My eyes open wide and I glare at the man standing in front of me. He positions himself between my legs before peeling my cardigan off my shoulders.

"If you won't sleep," he glares down at me, "We're going to give you as many orgasms as it takes for you to pass out."

My mind blanches at his words and I stare dumbfounded at him. 

"That got her attention," Elijah chuckles as the other two brothers flank Cal's sides. They all stare at me with varying degrees of hunger, lust and concern in their eyes. I bite my lip under the heavy scrutiny of their gazes. 

My brain vaguely registers Zach's hand creeping under the waistband of my pyjama bottoms. The pad of his fingers brush against my sensitive clit before they lock on it as a target. I bite back a whimper but Elijah draws my bottom lip from my teeth with his thumb. 

"There's no-one else here, killer. We want to hear you," he commands as Zach pinches my clit. I cry out at the intense sensation but Cal quickly swallows my screams, dominating my mouth with pure passion. 

An orgasm barrels out of nowhere, sending me flying over the edge with a silent scream. I'm barely aware of my surroundings as I resurface. The only thing I register is being in someone's arms as they carry me to the elevator. 

"Guess it only took one," Zach's chuckle filters into my ears but I'm too exhausted to respond. I bury my face into the chest of the person carrying me, inhaling the musky aftershave of Elijah before I pass out completely. 

Meh.