Punished

By Kimberly Zant

Marlee has a secret she dare not divulge, and it isn't something that will withstand the scrutiny of a criminal investigation. When the computer system at the law firm where she works is hacked she begs them for the chance to repay them in whatever manner they see fit. The sentence is six months hard time-with six young lawyers.

Length: Novella
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Rating: Erotica. Contains explicit sex, graphic language, and some scenes of sex with multiple partners.

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Concepts Publishing
• Release date: Dec 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311341600

Book preview

PUNISHED

By

Kimberly Zant

( c ) copyright by Madris DePasture writing as Kimberly Zant, March 2005

Cover art by Jenny Dixon, March 2005

ISBN 978-1-60394-

Smashwords Edition

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

I knew the moment I entered the conference room that I was in deep do do. There were six partners in the law firm I worked for--two were brothers, the others their buddies from college--and all six were waiting for me, their expressions eloquent of condemnation--accusation.

Guilt immediately assailed me. It was a strange quirk of my nature that I always felt guilty whenever anyone looked at me accusingly, even if I couldn’t remember having done anything I should feel guilty about.

What the hell had I done? Or not done?

I looked at them wide eyed, trying to swallow the knot of abject terror that was slowly working its way up my throat. My life was flashing before my eyes, however, job hunting, and eviction--sleeping in my car--and to save my life I couldn’t begin to guess what I’d done.

I’d been working at the firm for a grand total of three weeks. Thus far, I’d had a crush on three of the hunks that practiced law in between rounds of racquetball, tennis--and dating scary beautiful, painfully (for me) young women.

Not that any of them actually knew I existed as a woman. Fresh out of a ten year, going no where relationship, my self-confidence was at an all time low, partly because of my ex, and partly because I was a realist at heart--or maybe a pessimist? Some people argued that there was a difference between the two. To me, they were like conjoined twins--virtually the same in every way that counted.

In a world that idolized youth and anorexia, I was staring hard at that dreaded mid-thirty mark, and my size twelve/fourteen figure wasn’t considered a ‘classic’ hourglass. It was bordering on elephantitis.

I still wasn’t sure why they’d given me the job. I was fresh out of tech school. I didn’t have experience, looks, or youth to recommend me. The only thing I could figure out was that it was because I came cheap--or maybe because they didn’t want a distraction.

It was certainly a lowering thought, but probably close to the mark, pessimism not withstanding. The front desk girl was their ‘type’--a size one, fresh faced because she hadn’t even turned twenty yet, and from an upper scale family with upper scale money. She was working on her internship and was clearly going somewhere in life. She had looks, youth, money, and no compunction about using every weapon at her disposal to get where she was going. She generally treated me the same way the partners did, as if I was transparent. Occasionally, I would catch her giving me speculative looks, as if she was sizing me up--there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she was planning on having a wedding ring on her finger before she graduated and she didn’t particularly care which of the partners it was--but there was far more contempt or plain old disgust in her expression than anything I could interpret as ‘sizing up the competition’.

I imagined that she was thinking she wasn’t going to be a loser like me and find herself alone, staring at middle age, fat, and barely making minimum wage.

I shifted uneasily when none of the partners said a word, merely studying me, their handsome faces hard, uncompromising--sort of like they must look when they were standing in a courtroom.

You wanted me, Mr. Justice? I squeaked in a voice I hardly recognized, unable to bear the continued silence.

At thirty five, Lyle Justice was the ‘senior’ partner. His brother, Colin, was the youngest at twenty nine. I’d gone into rapture mode the moment I set eyes on Lyle for the first time but it hadn’t taken me more than two days to figure out I was way out of my depth with that one. Not that I thought that there was any danger of getting too familiar with him, but he was way too sharp even to consider it. Besides, he scared me almost as much as he turned me on.

Lyle’s eyes narrowed. Someone has compromised a very important case we’re working on, Marlee, he responded coolly. We stand to lose a substantial amount of money if we lose the case.

I blinked--several times--rapidly. Case? I knew next to nothing about the law and I didn’t know diddly squat about their cases. Except for catching a word here and there that Perry Mason couldn’t have put together, I didn’t even have a clue of what they were doing for whom. My duties included filing, typing, watering the plants and keeping the reception area tidy. Someone? I asked in a strangled voice. I was no rocket scientist, but it didn’t take one to figure out the ‘someone’ they suspected was me.

It hit me right between the eyes then that this wasn’t actually an inquisition. The truth was, I’d already been tried and convicted and was facing the penalty faze.

We tracked your activities on the net, Stuart Kendall said coldly.

I turned to stare at the gorgeous blond that I’d imagined looked like a young Redford. My mind was so busy scurrying around in circles I couldn’t imagine what kind of net he was talking about at first. Net? You mean the internet?

His lips tightened. The chat rooms.

Again I blinked in surprise. This time, though, I could feel blood surging back into my cheeks and it didn’t stop at relieving me of the dead, lifeless look I’d probably had when all the color left my face. It brought pulsing heat with it. I … uh … I … uh. You mean the singles thing? I asked a little weakly, trying to figure out how me trying to get a frigging date added up to cutting my bosses’ throats in court.

The partners all exchanged a look.

"I know I shouldn’t have--but I only did it on my breaks.