Paralegal/ Shield

Technically, Jared Petrovski wasn't his boss. Nicholas was a paralegal at the courthouse, but somehow, fate (or bad luck) had made him the designated chauffeur/ personal assistant for the Siberian Beast.

And by fate, he meant he was the only male paralegal capable of surviving the Beast's icy demeanor without turning into a human popsicle.

For reasons Nicholas couldn't quite fathom, the Beast had a peculiar aversion to women. Anytime a woman so much as spoke to him, his frostiness seemed to multiply, transforming the entire second floor of the courthouse into an arctic tundra.

Nicholas liked to think of himself as the Siberian Beast's personal testosterone shield—keeping the estrogen at bay, one awkward conversation at a time.

Besides, word around the courthouse was that the Siberian Beast had a real shot at becoming the next District Attorney at the young age of 33.

Nicholas figured it couldn't hurt to be on the Beast's good side if only to ensure his future didn't involve fetching coffee for some lesser predator.

But today, something was off. The Beast seemed... distracted.

Jared Petrovski, who normally oozed cold precision, was staring blankly out the window. They had court in just a few minutes, and here they were, parked like a couple of loiterers.

Very un-Beast-like behavior.

"She forgot her file..." Jared muttered, his eyes never leaving the view outside.

Nicholas followed his gaze and spotted her—the plain woman stepping off the bus with the grace of someone who had just woken up five minutes ago.

Jerica Evans—the only woman on this planet capable of turning the fierce Siberian Beast into a docile, purring kitten.

Nicholas sighed dramatically. Of course. She couldn't be that simple.

Nick, with all his limited brain cells firing on overdrive, could never understand how that plain-looking woman could be so lucky to have such an uxorious man for a husband.

Sure, Jared might not like to wear his wedding band, and he might be hesitant to acknowledge his wife in public, but that woman had snagged herself a dedicated husband—though one who acted more like a brooding tiger than a love-struck kitten.

"You could just remind her," Nicholas suggested, trying to diffuse the growing tension. They should have been in court by now, not sitting in a car playing detective.

"What?" Jared turned to Nick, his eyes wide with a look Nick had never seen before—was that… fear?

Nick blinked in surprise. Is the Siberian Beast actually scared of his petite wife? He felt a wave of curiosity and concern wash over him. But then, his curiosity got the better of him.

"Mr. Petrovski, are you… are you a domestic abuse victim? Is that why you're so scared of—"

Nick didn't get to finish his sentence before he found himself on the receiving end of one of Jared's infamous frosty glares. He swallowed hard, the rest of his words dying in his throat.

Yep, definitely scared of her, Nick concluded with a shudder. How terrifying was that woman? She must have a black belt in something!

"Have you dated many women, Nick?" Jared asked, his eyes still locked on the woman getting on the courthouse steps.

Nick straightened up, puffing out his chest a little. "I have a very handsome face, you know. I might not look like it, but in our town, my family is the wealthiest, and I'm an only son. Plenty of women want to date me and—" He trailed off, realizing Jared wasn't listening.

Jared's next question caught him off guard. "If a woman didn't accept your gift… what does that mean?" His voice was low, almost as if he was embarrassed to ask.

Nick stared at him, stunned. What's going on with the Beast today? Then it clicked. "Ah! Today's your anniversary, isn't it? Did she reject your gift? I'm amazed you remembered your anniversary…" Nick went on. "Just like you asked, I booked a table at that fancy French restaurant and arranged for the—"

"I didn't say my wife rejected my gift, did I?" Jared's voice was like an arctic blast, cutting off Nick's triumphant explanation.

"Of course not!" Nick replied quickly, eager to save his skin from the verbal frostbite that was Jared Petrovski's displeasure. But he couldn't help wondering why his boss was so reluctant to accept the obvious. Who else could he possibly be talking about?

"Why are you still here?" Jared suddenly shouted, making Nick jump. "Aren't we late for court?"

Nick bit back the scream that was bubbling up inside him and instead forced a wide grin. "Yes, sir! I'll be there in a jiffy, sir!" he chirped, his voice laced with forced enthusiasm.

As the Siberian Beast finally alighted from the car, Nick sighed in relief.

What an unstable person! Who could actually live with him? Maybe he's the lucky one to find a woman willing to bear with him, not her!

Thinking he had successfully mitigated whatever "situation" had been brewing, Nick happily returned to his own thoughts.

When Nick returned after parking the car, his jaw dropped as he watched Jared slink behind a pillar, sneaking toward the Clerk's office like a spy in a bad action movie.

Now what? Nick groaned inwardly. He followed Jared's line of sight and saw Jerica Evans, the wife of the Beast, laughing with another man.

This is it! Everything's finished! We're doomed!

Nick's heart pounded as his mind spiraled into full-blown panic mode, already concocting worst-case scenarios involving Jared's temper and the poor guy who was about to get caught in the crossfire.

Well, technically not a poor, unsuspecting guy.

"He's the Public Relations Officer recruited by the DA himself—Harold Braddock," Nick blurted out, finally revealing what he had been dying to tell his boss.

"Braddock?" Jared's attention shifted, his glare less icy but still... intense.

"Yes," Nicholas whispered, as though dishing out top-secret intel. He stood on his tiptoes, leaning in conspiratorially. "From The Braddock family. Youngest son of their second son. Stanford graduate…"

Jared started walking toward the courtroom, but Nick, bless his soul, didn't take the hint.

"Graduated top of his class—although he got into Stanford purely by family connections. His uncle is rumored to be the next party nominee for the presidential election. Harold? Yeah, he wants to follow his grandfather's and uncle's path into politics. But his dad—"

Jared's hand froze on the courtroom door handle, and Nicholas felt the temperature in the hallway plummet by a few degrees. He clammed up immediately.

Uh-oh. Did I step on a landmine?

"How does she know him?" Jared asked, with the kind of casual calm that never boded well for anyone in Nick's position.