Last Chance

onze

A.N.

Guess who's back?
If you know, you know.
Last Dance readers, this one's for you.

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xi.

Caleb Breland had been ready to storm into the fine office of his mentor and friend, Penelope Keyes.

He'd marched on the fifth level, sinful fruit in hand and a fucking lawsuit in the other, guns ablaze. How could she—the name partner of this bloody firm—land herself on the wrong side of the law?

He'd planned on having words with her. Ask how the fuck did she, of all people, land herself in dark dealings? And on the heels of that question, what could he do to help?

Caleb hadn't bothered to read the whole stack of papers. He'd much rather hear everything from the woman herself. And then, he'd have whoever it was that had her pinned by the balls held in contempt for this.

Jesus fucking Christ.

How could she be so careless?

"Let's not go there." Caleb heard the soft lilt of his overseer's voice floating from her office. "It'll just have you worked up. Have you thought about occupying yourself? Maybe go out, get some drinks with friends?"

"Penelope, I haven't been around for a very long time." Another feminine voice said, sullenly. And Caleb had made out whose voice it belonged to almost instantaneously. It was instinct to roll his eyes, piecing together who it was. But sheer nature to feel his lips curve into a smirk, as he walked with that insufferable swagger at the doorway. "The closest thing I have to a friend is— "

"—Me." He couldn't help but finish, eyes gleaming with mirth. "And to befriend the best fucking closer in town? Well, I would say you lucked into the best damn thing to ever happen to you, really."

When Delilah Gates' leafy green eyes riveted back to his fit, tawny figure leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. Holy shit, he couldn't wait to rave about this to Vince.

Caleb bit into his fresh apple; watching the scene unfurled before him like a cat. The senior partner couldn't tell what was more mortifying for the slender blond—her once-nemesis hearing how friendless she was, or that she couldn't bring herself to object to his insinuations.

What did that say about her?

"I didn't know you two were friends," Penelope said in way of greeting to Caleb, with a faint smile tugging at her lips but trouble still swimming in her eyes. He'd deal with that later. "I heard stories that entail otherwise."

He was amused. He loved being challenged but even more than that—he loved getting Delilah riled up. He grinned lazily before pushing off the doorframe and starting forward into the office, tossing the remnant of his fresh fruit in the dustbin only to stand right behind his mentor's stepdaughter, shadowing her.

"I don't doubt it." His shit-eating grin never left his face. "You see, over the years, Lila and I had what most would call..." he trailed, a broad hand waving in the air. "Playful banter—an ongoing dance that we fell into since the moment we met." He said with his charisma. "Our schtick. But in truth," he added, before crossing his middle and point finger together. "We're as tight as a bow-string. Isn't that right, darling?"