A/N: Hello my lovelies!! If you couldn't tell by the tags, this is a Suits AU (kind of) of my already existing TWD fanfiction, The Doctor! I think it would be a better experience if you've read that first but definitely not required to enjoy this!!

It's also not needed to watch Suits either, this is really just a Lawyer AU that I thought of while watching that show a few months back. If you've seen it you will be able to recognize a few roles and what the office looks like but that's about it :)

If you're new, welcome!! and if you're a returning reader I hope you enjoy this alternative universe of our idiots 🤍

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possible trigger warnings: mentions of previous domestic abuse and explicit sex scenes

playlist (link in comments)

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[tags from ao3]

AU of fanfiction,  Rivals to Lovers,  Forced Proximity,  one-bed trope,  they're angry but also turned on,   guess what? they're idiots in this universe too,  Dual POV,  lawyer AU,  Rick Grimes is basically Harvey Specter,  he's also an asshole,   but it's hot let's be real,   the sexual tension is actually suffocating,   they're knee-deep in denial, Masturbation, Fun little dreams, Oral fixation, Absolute filth tbh,  jealous Rick makes a comeback,   explicit sexual content (eventually) bc of course there is,  inspired by "I Can See You" - Taylor Swift,   the author regrets nothing (except maybe not researching lawyers more), there's plot in here somewhere, This is just for kicks and giggles honestly, Season 5 Rick

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—- CAST —-
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- Jennifer Aniston as Dr. Cassandra Adams -

[Successful independent closer on the West Coast, Ph.D. in Psychology. Recently scouted by Michonne Hawthorne to be her firm's newest senior partner]

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- Andrew Lincoln as Rick Grimes -

[Top closer in NYC, senior partner at Greene & Hawthorne. Has a reputation of being brutal and rough around the edges- especially in the past couple of years]

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- Danai Gurira as Michonne Hawthorne -

[Iconic managing partner at Greene & Hawthorne, Rick's former mentor and number one supporter despite his reputation]

+

- Steven Yeun as Glenn Rhee -

[Rick's training associate, just graduated from law school and may or may not have a crush on a certain paralegal...]

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- Lauren Cohen as Maggie Greene -

[Best paralegal at Greene & Hathorne, knows more about the attorneys, the firm, and the law than most of the lawyers.]

&

- Jon Bernthal as Shane Walsh -

[Used to be Rick Grimes's closest friend and colleague until a couple of years ago...]

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CHAPTER ONE
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Cass's POV

Taking a breath to brace myself, I lean forward, my fingertip pressing the button so it ignites orange, lighting up the 50. The speaker emits a soft ding as the doors swiftly slide closed, shutting out the bustling marble lobby and leaving me alone in the sleek elevator.

Stepping back into the middle of the elevator, I shake out my hands, trying to quell the slight intimidation fluttering through me.

I can't believe this is the place I'm working at now.

Glancing around at the nice elevator, I take in the walnut wall panels, the glossy marble floor, and the spotless stainless steel wall with the red digital monitor displaying the numbers as I quickly ascend the floors.

Surveying my reflection in the polished doors, I make subtle adjustments to my knee-length pencil skirt which is tight enough to make my ass look great while still being work appropriate. Tilting my head, I check my matching black long-sleeve blouse for wrinkles even though I ironed it twice this morning. Can't exactly show up for my first day at the Greene & Hawthorne firm with goddamn wrinkles.

My heels are already beginning to ache my feet but I stand up straight and push through it while adjusting my purse on my shoulder.

You got this. I remind myself as I fight the slight nerves fluttering through my stomach. You were handpicked by Michonne Hawthorne as the new senior partner for a reason. And you're gonna be right in line for Hershel Greene's job when he steps down.

Not sure how Rick Grimes, the firm's infamous star closer, will feel about that. I'm sure he's just been itching to take Greene's job.

The elevator doors ding open, not giving me another chance to consider that thought. The doors parting reveals the main Greene & Hawthorne floor, signaled by those same names standing proud against the far wall.

There's a spotlight on the white lettering of the names, making them stand out against the sleek wooden panels, sending a wave of determination through me.

My name's going to be there one day.

I take a deep breath, compelling my feet to move forward and thankfully, they do. Plastering on my confident and cool facade, I stride out of the elevator and to the right toward the front desk where a receptionist sits, typing away. Behind their tightly coiled hair, the large windows of the floor send natural light in as workers rush past, too busy to glance in my direction.

The receptionist is still typing rapidly as I approach, seeming engrossed in their work. I notice their nametag with their pronouns and name- Anton. They glance up at the sound of my heels, doing a double take when they see me, their brown eyes flaring slightly.

"Ms. Adams!- oh, I mean, Dr. Adams! So nice to see you!" Anton exclaims quickly, stuttering over their mistake, making their cheeks flush. Responding with a kind smile, I feel a twinge of sympathy for the nervous employee.

"Ms. Adams is just fine. I have a Ph.D., I'm not a surgeon." I assure them with warm amusement, watching Anton visibly relax at my friendly tone. "I'm here to meet with Michonne Hawthorne?" I ask, making them nod quickly, flashing me a nervous smile.

"O-Of course! Follow me," The receptionist says hastily, scrambling to their feet, knocking a couple of papers from their desk on the floor. This attracts the attention of a few passersbys, who glance curiously in our direction.

After helping them pick up the fallen papers, I trail behind Anton as they guide me around the floor toward a corner office. Through the glass doors of the offices lining the walls, lawyers work tirelessly for one of the top law firms in New York City, all buried in work.

I try and fail to not be intimidated.

We arrive at the floor-to-ceiling glass door of Michonne's corner office, offering breathtaking views of the Manhattan skyline. Inside, Michonne stands with her back against her desk, her arms folded across her chest, weariness evident in the lines etched on her face as she listens to a man engaged in a fervent argument with her.

I can't make out his features or words from where I am, but the expensive suit he wears shifts across his back as he gestures passionately to whatever he's saying. His brown curls, though too long to be professional, are styled well enough that he seems to get away with it.

To the left of him, another man stands, similarly obscured from my view. His suit lacks the clear high-quality of his companion's but his jet-black hair is similarly slicked back. He's standing beside the ranting man, not saying a word, though I spot him running a stressed hand down his face.

With each step closer, the voices grow louder, prompting my eyebrows to raise in surprise. They argue like this in an office?

As we approach the doors, Anton shoots me an anxious look before knocking loudly. Then they gingerly push open the glass pane by the silver handle, revealing the office to me and amplifying the formerly muffled voices.

"...has no fucking idea about this office-"

The moment Michonne spots me entering, the man who had been passionately ranting abruptly falls silent as her expression lights up with recognition. In one swift motion, Michonne drops her crossed arms and strides towards me, a broad smile spreading across her face, her eyes crinkling with warmth as they meet mine.

"Mrs. Hawthorne? This is-"

"Cass," Michonne breathes before Anton can finish, her voice filled with genuine warmth as she steps forward and envelops me in a hug that takes me pleasantly by surprise. I return the embrace, feeling the weight of the years since we last met melt away in the familiarity of her presence.

"Michonne, long time no see," I grin, rubbing her back through the soft fabric of her white blazer. Our friendship goes back years ago when we were at Harvard Law at the same time, with her a few years ahead of me.

Michonne leans back from our embrace, her grin still wide as she gazes at me with genuine affection. "Welcome to Greene and Hawthorne," she tells me lowly, her voice filled with excitement, her dark brown eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. I inhale nervously, summoning my own excitement to mask the nerves bubbling beneath the surface.

As I shift my gaze away from Michonne's beaming face, I catch sight of Anton quickly leaving the office, seaming eager to get out of the situation. My eyes drift to the two men watching us, suspicion worn into their features. To the left stands a young Korean man, his curious brown eyes studying me intently. There's no distaste in his gaze, only a sense of intelligence as he seems to try to figure me out.

Then there's the man beside him.

His mere presence exudes authority, his brown curls framing a face etched with distrust. And unlike the man beside him, he is practically glaring-no, definitely glaring at me.

As my eyes dart to meet his, my heart throttles at the sight of his startingly attractive face. I find myself momentarily captivated by the sharp angles of his jawline, his salt and pepper stubble adding a rugged edge to his appearance. His deeply furrowed brows and piercing blue eyes seem to bore into my very soul, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

Despite the strange sensations fluttering through me, I maintain my passive expression. Staring back into his sharp glare unflinchingly, I subtly raise one of my eyebrows cooly.

"Cass, this is Rick Grimes, another one of our senior partners, promoted by me last year," Michonne introduces, her words cutting through to the right of me, making me nod once, glancing up and down Rick's figure subtly.

So this is the Rick Grimes I've heard so much about. I had half expected some geriatric lawyer to compete with because of his well-known reputation. I was not prepared for him to look like this.

My quick eyes assess Rick's deep navy suit, certainly expensive and tailored perfectly to his built frame. His silver Rolex glints on his left wrist and his dark shoes have been recently shined. A man who has expensive yet good taste.

A perfectionist.

"And beside him is Glenn Rhee, his associate. Brilliant kid," Michonne continues her introductions, prompting me to shift my gaze to Glenn.

Glenn nervously glances at his boss beside him, who doesn't bother to return the favor, before looking back at me with a small smile, a strand of his straight black hair falling from his styled look.

"Nice to meet you both," I say smoothly, forcing a calm confidence into my voice as I turn my attention back to the man I've been introduced to as the infamous Rick Grimes- my new competition. Given his time at the firm, and incredible reputation, he certainly wants to step into Hershel Greene's shoes.

And now, I'm the obstacle in his path.

As I calmly meet his severe glare, I can almost feel the disdain emanating from him. Despite the underlying tension, I have to fight back a smile. Nothing like healthy competition to keep a job interesting.

"And who are you?" Rick Grimes questions me accusingly, his voice clipped, the muscle in his jaw feathering.

"Cassandra Adams," I reply simply, tilting my head to the side, allowing some of my hair to slide off my shoulder.

I will not be intimidated by you, asshole.

"And you're just waltzing in here as a senior partner? I've never heard of you, Adams. As the top closer in New York, I know everyone." Rick asserts slowly but surely, his deep voice carrying a weight of superiority as he takes an intimidating step toward me.

The morning sun reflects off the windows of the nearby building, casting a golden glow that illuminates the expanse of his blue eyes- something I definitely do not notice.

Stubbornly, I match his step forward, the sound of my heel muffled by Michonne's plush carpet as I angle my chin up defiantly, refusing to be cowed by his imposing presence.

"Well, Grimes, that's because I'm the best closer on the West Coast. Michonne called me a couple of weeks ago, offering me the job, and I decided to... refine my career goals by coming over here," I explain condescendingly, studying every inch of my new competition's inconveniently beautiful face.

"And then, I can become the top closer of both coasts." I finish with a sickly sweet smile, eliciting a flash of fierce anger behind those striking blue eyes.

"Children, please," Michonne sighs tiredly from behind me, her exasperation evident in her voice, but Rick and I refuse to break our intense staring contest.

A strange, electricity crackles in the air between us, a tangible tension that makes it nearly impossible to tear my gaze away from Rick's piercing blue eyes. His intense stare locks onto mine, and it's as if the entire room fades into the background, leaving only the two of us in this charged moment.

If he's not looking away, neither am I.

"Rick, I have every right to choose the runner-up for Hershel's job. And after Walsh was fired, we needed another senior partner. With none of the rest of our partners on the right level, I hired out." Michonne explains to Rick, her voice firm and unwavering in her authority. "Cass is here to stay. Whether you like it or not." she declares, her words hanging in the air with a finality that leaves no room for argument.

I raise my eyebrows once in triumph at Rick, a sense of satisfaction curling in my chest as Michonne stands her ground in my defense.

Rick's piercing eyes slide from Michonne's back to mine, darkened with irritation, making a smirk tug at the corners of my lips. Take that, bitch.

"Perfect." Rick snaps tersely, smoothly stepping past me and narrowly missing my shoulder, the subtle scent of his cologne lingering in his wake as he goes.

I swallow thickly, swiftly turning around to watch him and his apprentice leave. Rick pauses in the doorway, glancing back and fixing his gaze directly on me, his expression a mix of frustration and warning as he narrows his eyes.

"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, Miss West Coast." Rick threatens sarcastically, his tone laced with thinly veiled animosity, his mouth pulled down with aggravation.

A sly smile of amusement quirks at the corner of my mouth. "I don't presume to know," I reply, tilting my head to the side and crossing my arms, refusing to back down in the face of his intimidation tactics.

Rick exhales sharply and moves to leave.

"Oh," I interject abruptly, causing Rick to pause in the doorway and look back at me, slight curiosity mingling with irritation in his gaze.

"As a perfectionist such as yourself, you should know it's technically Dr. West Coast." I correct him smugly, relishing the way his jaw clenches and fire ignites behind his eyes at being corrected.

Rick just wordlessly shoots Glenn a look before confidently striding away, with Glenn following quickly behind. The people around them seem to slow down and gawk as they walk past, watching them with interest.

I tilt my head to the side as I watch the pair go, amusement fluttering through me. This'll be fun.

"Don't listen to his threats, he's actually a good guy," Mischonne sighs, making me turn to her, unconvinced.

She snorts at my expression. "I know. He's harsh, rough around the edges, and ferocious. At least in the last couple of years, for good reason. But that's what turned him from a good lawyer to one of the best," Michonne informs me matter-of-factly, her words carrying a weight of experience. She has worked with him for a decade, so she does know him far better than I could.

"Fair," I concede with a resigned sigh as I finally take in my first full breath since walking into this office, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly.

With a grin, Michonne leads me to my new office, talking to me as we make our way across the bustling firm. It's situated on the other side of the floor, apparently a few doors down from Rick's corner office.

Though not a corner office, mine is a decent-sized rectangle with large windows that frame the towering skyscrapers and bustling city beyond. Dark brown shelves line one wall, ready to house all my law books. The stylish desk, no doubt handpicked by Michonne, sits in the middle, making me smile in the doorway.

On the glass wall beside the similarly glass door, 'Dr. Cassandra Adams. Senior Partner' is written out in white lettering, making pride tighten my heart.

I step into the office, scattered with moving boxes flown in from San Francisco, a sense of amazement fluttering over me.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get you a corner office-"

"-No, Michonne, this is great. I don't need a corner office to feel important," I assure her with a knowing grin, leaning back on the edge of my desk and facing her in the doorway. Her smile broadens in response.

"I forgot what it's like to not have an egomaniac around here," Michonne mutters, making me snort. "But we have those chairs you requested being sent in tomorrow, and apart from that and some unpacking, you're all set," Michonne informs me, making me smile, happiness humming through my veins.

"I appreciate it. Seriously, I can't thank you enough for this," I insist earnestly, but Michonne waves her nicely jeweled hand, dismissing my gratitude with an air of humble generosity.

"Don't. You are overqualified for this. We'll talk more over dinner tonight with Sophie?" Michonne checks, referring to her partner, and I nod eagerly, looking forward to spending time with both of them. Michonne leaves with a grin as she gets called by a passing attorney.

With a satisfied sigh, I drop my purse down on my desk chair and glance out one of my large windows. The impressive skyline of New York City stretches out before me, its towering architecture casting a slight sense of intimidation over me. I'm used to working in San Francisco, Seattle, and Los Angeles, each with their own skyscrapers, but nothing quite compares to the endless urban sprawl of New York City.

Maybe I'm in over my head here, rooted down to one firm instead of working independently as I did before. It's just not what I'm used to. A slight tingle of fear prickles down my spine at the thought of having nowhere to run if-

A knock on my glass door startles me, and I spin around to find a pretty woman smiling at me in the doorway. She has green eyes similar to mine, wavy brown hair to her shoulders, and is holding a big stack of paperwork in her arms.

"Hi, I'm Maggie, a paralegal here. I have some paperwork for you," she informs me professionally and I force forward a smile to cover up the fleeting self-doubt that threatens to bubble up inside me.

Can't let everyone else know how terrified I really am, I remind myself silently, steeling my nerves as I step forward to accept the paperwork from her.

"Oh great," I breathe, taking the folders from her hands with a grateful nod. "I'm Cass, as I'm sure you know from the paperwork," I add with a hint of amusement, prompting her to smile faintly and offer me a nod.

Maggie begins to walk away and as my fingers curl around the substantial stack of folders, I stop her. "Wait-"

She stops and turns to me, her eyebrows raised in polite inquiry.

"Thank you, Maggie," I express genuinely, making her pause, seemingly not used to being thanked. Something flickers in her expression as she nods, her forced smile softening into something more sincere before she turns, continuing on her way.

Exhaling softly, I turn my attention back to the task at hand, surveying the unorganized chaos that is my office.

With a determined nod, I delve into unpacking, wanting to get it all done on my first day. I carefully arrange my extensive collection of law books on the wall of shelves, interspersing them with personal books and small knickknacks I've acquired through the years of my job. Among them is a crystal bookend carved into an otter. A gift from a client after I helped with their merger with the local bay aquarium- one of my favorite cases.

Stepping back, I tilt my head, biting my lip thoughtfully, uncertain if I like the way I've organized it.

Clicking my tongue in annoyance at the crooked placement of one of my books on the high shelf, I know I need to fix it otherwise, it'll bother me every day.

With a determined resolve, I reach up on my tip-toes to fix the book that sits precariously on the highest shelf, my fingers brushing against the cool surface of the crystal otter as I carefully adjust its position, making sure not to knock off the bookend as well.

Lost in the precariousness of my task, I ignore the subtle prickling sensation at the edge of my consciousness- the irrefutable sixth sense screaming at me that I'm being watched.

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Rick's POV
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My jaw clenches for what feels like the fiftieth time in the last hour as I pace the length of my office, my mind a whirlwind of frustration and disbelief.

I can't believe this happened.

Ten years. Ten years of blood, sweat, and tears poured into this job, starting from the bottom as Michonne's right-hand man and clawing my way up the ladder, inch by painful inch.

I thought I had finally secured my rightful place as managing partner. The dust only just settled from getting that fucking backstabber fired, only for Cassandra Adams to swoop in and try to snatch the promotion right from under my nose?

Hell no.

"Rick?" Glenn's voice cuts through the turmoil of my thoughts, pulling me out of my internal rage. I glance over at him, finding him seated on one of the two leather couches in my office, surrounded by a sea of scattered papers on the coffee table in front of him. But despite the mess, his eyes are fixed on me with genuine concern.

"What." I snap, my voice coming out sharper than intended, frustration seeping through my voice as I struggle to contain the storm raging within me.

How is that... stranger affecting me like this? And what was that stare-down earlier? No one treats me like that.

No one challenges me, least of all some newcomer who thinks she can waltz into my territory and claim what's rightfully mine.

"Shouldn't we talk about Walsh? With his recent merger he-"

"-I don't give a shit about Shane," I growl, my southern drawl slipping as frustration courses through my veins. I run my hand through my hair in a futile attempt to organize my thoughts about the enigmatic woman aiming to steal my hard-earned promotion.

I can't shake the memory of the arrogant way she smirked at me when she corrected me.

'Dr'?

How on earth is she a doctor? Why is she a doctor? Why is she here, now? These questions gnaw at me relentlessly, like a persistent itch that refuses to be scratched.

The mere fact that she didn't even know who I was only serves to exacerbate my frustration, stirring up a storm of resentment and indignation within me.

Everyone knows who I am.

Letting out a steady exhale, I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose in a futile attempt to dispel the image of Cassandra Adams that seems to have branded itself onto my mind.

Her soft green eyes flash behind my closed lids, calmly staring back at me from beneath her full eyelashes, one of those impeccably arched eyebrows subtly challenging me. The way she looked at me as if I didn't intimidate her—it's so unlike anything I'm used to.

So was the unfamiliar pull in my chest as I walked past her and the scent of that citrus perfume of hers practically shoved itself into my nose and consequently stirred something deep within me.

I swallow thickly, a gnawing sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. My gut twists and flutters uncomfortably, a disconcerting sensation that leaves me thoroughly unsettled.

I need air.

Ignoring whatever Glenn is ranting on about, I stride forward, wrenching open the door to my office. As I walk out onto the loud and bustling floor, I hear Glenn scrambling to his feet to follow me.

I'll get a coffee. Coffee will help.

Honestly, I think hard liquor would help far, far, more but it's 10 am and I'm not my father.

Glenn quickly catches up with me as I start stalking down the hall, every nerve seething with aggravation, a storm of emotions brewing beneath my outwardly composed facade. My clenched fists tremble with restrained fury as I fixate on one singular thought.

Her.

I refuse to let that pretentious know-it-all take my job. The job my entire career has been working toward. No way in hell.

My gaze flickers across the cubicles of the floor, scanning the sea of desks until it lands on her- Satan's mistress herself.

She stands on her tiptoes, elongating her figure as she gracefully slides a book onto the top shelf. The sunlight streaming in outlines her silhouette, accentuating her frame wrapped in her tight skirt and satin blouse. Her golden hair glows like fire in the sunlight, like a beacon of evil.

I nearly scoff at the sight of her unpacking her office as if she has a place here.

She doesn't. Not if I have a say in it.

My eyes narrow as I watch way her body returns to normal as she steps off her toes, biting her lip and tilting her head while she assesses her bookshelf, only filling me with irritation. My jaw clenches at that same strange sensation stirring deep within me, my gaze flying over her side profile, trying desperately to find a flaw.

"There's no way someone is that perfect," I mutter through my clenched teeth, making Glenn look at me.

My heart pounding heavily in my ribcage, I turn to meet Glenn's widened eyes, cold determination flooding through me.

"Everyone has something to hide. We're going to find hers." I snap with steely resolve, my voice dripping with venom, before turning on my heel and stalking out to the elevators.

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Cass's POV
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The hours seem to blur together as I immerse myself in the intricacies of the new computer system and its accompanying programs, meticulously completing the paperwork Maggie had handed me earlier. With each task checked off my list, I continue unpacking the remaining items scattered throughout my office, methodically arranging them in their designated places

Despite my best efforts to stave off the inevitable, the day slips away from me, the fading daylight casting long shadows across the room as the building gradually empties out and the fluorescent lights hum to life, illuminating the corridors in a soft, artificial glow.

When 8 pm rolls around, I put the finishing touches on my paperwork, placing the neatly organized files in my outbox before grabbing my purse and slinging it over my shoulder. I should get my first case soon, which will be nice to get back into the rhythm of my actual job.

Exiting my office, I wince slightly as I put weight on my heels, which have just recovered from hours of sitting. Glancing to my right, I notice that Rick's corner office is only four doors down from mine.

From where I am, I can see him at his desk, engrossed in reading what appears to be a file, the soft glow of his desk lamp casting dramatic shadows across his features. Something... odd tugs at my chest as I take in the sight of his strong nose, his shadowed eyes, the curls framing his face, and the subtle movement of his mouth as he chews on his cheek in concentration.

My gaze quickly flicks behind him, taking in the expanse of his office, which dwarfs mine in comparison. Even from this distance, I can see that his shelves are lined with considerably more law books than mine and far fewer knickknacks.

Rick's office seems to reflect his harsh demeanor, meticulously organized and devoid of any human emotion.

He wouldn't want anything as frivolous as a personality to distract him from his job, I see.

Rolling my eyes with distaste, I turn on my heel and stride purposefully toward the elevators. Along the way, I pass by Maggie, the paralegal I met earlier, and I offer her a smile that seems to catch her off guard just as much as my 'thank you' did. I notice she's talking to Rick's apprentice, Glenn, and as she turns to glance at me, he doesn't, his attention on her unwavering.

Suppressing a smirk, I look away and continue on my way. Cute. Office romances will keep this place interesting.

Hopefully, they'll prove more interesting than the devil four doors down who I'm pretty sure would prefer to see my name on the obituaries than on the wall with Michonne's.

Just before I reach the elevators, Michonne intercepts me, eager to confirm our dinner plans. I assure her with a smile that I need to head back to my apartment to change and then I'll meet up with them. Michonne hugs me one more time, saying she can't wait to hear about my 'exciting life on the West Coast' which I just smile in response to.

If only she knew.

Finally, I arrive at the elevators alone and press the down button on the marble wall. The tension that has built up from hours of hunching over and typing makes me roll my neck in a futile attempt to relieve the knots that have formed in my muscles. And to think, I didn't even have a case today.

Adjusting to the demands of working all-day shifts in a traditional office will undoubtedly take some getting used to. Freelancing on the West Coast was more travel, rare court appearances, meeting clients over meals, and working late nights from the comfort of my bed with a glass of wine.

Much different than office life.

As I wait, lost in my thoughts, the elevator finally dings and the doors slide open, revealing the sleek interior within. I step inside, pivoting to press the Lobby button. Stepping back, I fully let out a breath I hadn't been able to all day, feeling my taught body begin to relax in the confines of the small space.

But before I can fully settle into my solitude, a veined hand darts between the closing doors, causing them to chime in annoyance before opening fully once again. My eyebrows raise in surprise, my eyes darting up to meet the unexpected intruder, and my stomach clenches when I see that it's him.

Rick fucking Grimes.

The asshole flashes me a sarcastic smile before stepping in beside me and casually pressing the close button. To do this, he has to lean past me, his proximity causing that expensive cologne of his to waft over me once again, flooding my senses.

My body stiffens instinctively as I refuse to let him affect me. Closing my eyes for a second, I straighten my posture. You are not attracted to him.

I clear my throat, fixing my gaze on the recently closed doors, determined to resist engaging in any conversation with the man standing uncomfortably close beside me in this small elevator. The tingling sensation of being shut in here with him of all people lingers, but I refuse to let it show.

"Leaving early on your first day? Ballsier than I thought you were, Adams." Rick rumbles from beside me, his voice carrying an irritating hint of amusement. I turn to look at him, narrowing my eyes at his annoyingly smug expression trained on the doors, not even bothering to look at me.

"8 pm is early?" I respond dryly, making the corner of his mouth curve upward into a satisfied smirk, his eyes slightly crinkling at the edges.

"When everyone serious about their job leaves at 9? Yes," Rick confirms, those intense blue eyes sliding to mine, unimpressed. "But it's your first day, so I'm sure no... hard feelings," he adds in a feigned friendly tone that makes me want to strangle him.

"I have dinner with Michonne and her wife, I can't be late," I explain coldly, being the one to face forward this time, glancing at the red numbers counting down the levels.

Damnit we're only on level 47? I could've sworn it was faster this morning.

"Oh, Soph, I like her. She's a fantastic surgeon and an even better cook." Rick comments casually, his seemingly kind words laced with a competitive edge.

Is he seriously trying to outdo me?

"You know her?" I ask, turning to him with surprise, watching the satisfaction flash across his expression.

"I'd say we're good friends. I've been working with Michonne for ten years, which meant many house parties and dinner invites. And one unfortunate time in the hospital," Rick states, his tone shifting slightly, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his eyes as he clears his throat and looks away, his cool demeanor momentarily slipping.

Pushing away the confusion of why he crossed paths with the head of neurosurgery at New York General, I face forward as well, deciding not to delve into his history further.

I sigh, glancing at the wall beside me. "Damn. I only know her from being her best friend and maid of honor," I breathe, clicking my tongue with feigned disappointment as I casually look around the elevator, fighting my smirk as I see Rick stiffen in my periphery.

"Oh, and!" I suddenly exclaim, as if struck by a delightful realization, reaching out to grasp onto his arm in an overly friendly manner. I try not to notice the firmness of his muscles underneath the suit jacket, his head snapping to mine in surprise.

"After knowing Michonne at Harvard for years, I was the one who introduced them," I purr smugly, my words delivered with a hint of triumph, causing Rick to freeze, his eyes slightly widening as I release his arm with a nonchalant pat before shifting forward.

"But I agree, Soph's a fantastic surgeon," I continue, my smile turning victorious as I stare at the doors, subtly relishing the way Rick narrows his gaze on me in my periphery.

Now we're level 24. Almost there.

"I get it now, it was nepotism that got you here," Rick drawls with disgust, his voice dripping with disdain as he tilts his head to the side for a moment. Outraged, I whirl on him, my eyes wide at the accusation, trying not to let my stomach swoop at the sudden southern accent that he let slip.

"You have no idea what I've done to deserve this job. You should check your definitions, Grimes, because being Michonne's friend did not get me this job." I snap fiercely, my frustration bubbling to the surface as I fully face him, my heart pounding with aggravation.

Rick turns smoothly to face me, his movements calculated and deliberate. His glare pierces through me as he fixes his intense blue eyes on mine, the red numbers on the screen indicating the descending levels behind him

10

"I don't give a shit. You know what I mean and that I'm right," Rick snaps back in response, his brows furrowed intimidatingly.

I scoff, shaking my head with disbelief. "So that's the type of lawyer you are? The one who bends irrefutable truth until it works for you?" I challenge, cocking my head to the side, my heart pounding.

"All the best lawyers are" Rick retorts swiftly, his response sharp and unwavering, immediately making me know he must be a shark in the courtroom.

9

"That's what you are? 'The best'?" I scoff sarcastically, stepping closer, wishing my glare could burn a hole in that aggravating head of his.

Rick matches my step, glaring down at me, his demeanor unyielding. "Undoubtedly," he purrs, a self-assured smirk playing on his lips.

I clench my jaw, every fiber of my being vibrating with a visceral rage I've never felt before, my stomach churning at the magnetic intensity of his gaze. There's a mixture of aggravation and something else, something unfamiliar and unsettling, coursing through me as I glare into those pools of blue.

8

"I'm getting Greene's job when he retires and I know that's going to burst your little inflated male ego, but I'm clearly more qualified than you," I explain to him clearly, my voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within me. With raised eyebrows and arms crossed, I attempt to cool my seething anger, refusing to let him get under my skin.

7

Rick's eyes narrow further, a storm brewing in those intense blue depths, the corners of his mouth turning down with aggravation.

6

"You wish you had the fucking guts." Rick snarls, his voice low and dripping with contempt. He takes a step even closer, his presence looming over me, sending my heart rate skyrocketing. Despite this, I stand my ground, meeting his gaze with stubborn retaliation.

5

"I don't need guts. I have my brain, which dominates an entire coast while yours deals with a city. I'm going to mop the floor with you." I hiss, refusing to let him get a pedestal on me. I've dealt with enough male coworkers trying to assert their dominance over me, and I'll be damned if I let him do the same.

4

Rick's scrutinizing eyes flit over my expression as if looking for a weakness he can exploit. I meet his gaze head-on, steadfast and unyielding, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me falter.

The tension between us thickens, saturating the air around us, making each breath feel like a struggle against the suffocating weight. My lungs ache, starved for oxygen in the stifling atmosphere. I can't afford to let my guard down, not when Rick is standing so close, his presence a weight pressing down on me. The scent of his cologne threatens to overwhelm me, but I push the distraction aside, focusing solely on maintaining my composure.

3

My heart lurches as Rick abruptly leans in, his face a dangerous inch away from my ear, sending his warm breath cascading across my neck. I freeze, my world coming to a standstill as his shoulder becomes the focal point of my vision, catching a glimpse of his tan, toned neck beyond the collar of his button-up.

"I will fucking destroy you," Rick whispers, his voice a low menacing rumble, the tendons in his neck standing out as he does so, sending a visceral chill down my spine. I steel myself against the sensation, refusing to show any sign of weakness.

Every nerve is vibrating, screaming at me to retaliate because he's right here, in my personal space, threatening me. I force myself to remain calm, to hold my ground, and not let his proximity affect me, grateful for my long sleeves hiding my flared goosebumps.

2

"You wish." I grit back to his shoulder, my hands clenched at my sides, my nails biting into my palms so hard I won't be surprised if they start bleeding.

The tension between us is thick enough to cut with a knife, a silent battle of wills playing out in the confined space of the elevator.

To my surprise, Rick swiftly leans back, his eyes burning with simmering hatred, just as the elevator dings loudly, announcing that we've come to our destination.

L

The doors slide open with a hiss, the suddenly jarring sound breaking the tense atmosphere and jolting my nerves.

I don't bother saying another word to the arrogant ass, brushing past him as he did to me earlier, securing my purse strap on my shoulder. At least he had the decency to let me leave first. If he's going to be an ass, he may as well be a gentlemanly one.

As I stride away from the elevator, my heels clicking sharply on the polished marble floor of the now-deserted lobby, I finally allow myself to draw in a deep breath, relieving the searing tension that had gripped my clenched lungs. I'm grateful that the lobby is empty except for the security officer dozing off at his desk.

With each step I take, the sound of my footsteps reverberating in the silence, a prickling sensation begins to creep at the edges of my consciousness, urging me to glance back. And this time, I do.

Over my shoulder, I catch Rick watching me from the elevator, his eyes darkened with what I can only assume is full-blown desire to murder me.

He nonchalantly crosses his arms, a snarky smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he tilts his head in that characteristic way of his. Then the silver doors swiftly glide shut, shutting him back in the elevator.

Alone.

My jaw drops in disbelief, my footsteps faltering to a stunned halt.

He only went down the elevator to taunt me?

Anger surges through me like a tidal wave, transforming my clenched hands into fists of unwavering determination.

That's it. The arrogant prick is going down.

And I'll be the one to bring him to his fucking knees.

_______________________

A/N: guys the PLANS I have for this!!! I can't wait 🤭