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In a parallel universe, this would be one of the best days of my life, walking into one of the most, if not the most, prestigious law firms in New York for my first day of employment after years of one step forward, two steps back.
But this is not that parallel universe.
After law school, I was briefly a junior associate at a firm in Chicago. But then my father back in Paris got sick, and it all went down the drain: starting with the stipulations in his living will that I be married off to Massimo, immediately.
After the wedding, Massimo forbade me from working, which made it confusing when he allowed me to take the bar exam in New York after we moved there. And it makes it extremely confusing that he’s just surprised me with a fucking job at Crown and Black.
Because Massimo doesn’t do favors, or presents, or surprises—at least, not the good kind. Which means that this position comes with strings. It comes with an “angle”.
But even that’s not what has my stomach knotting and nervous butterflies fluttering through me. Nor is it first day jitters, or anything silly like that.
No, it’s that in a minute, when I step off this elevator into the Crown and Black offices, Alistair will be my boss. And the resulting cocktail of nervousness, confusion, and outright fear flooding my system has my head spinning.
It’s hard to describe what Alistair Black and I were, ten years ago. Enemies, but not. Rivals, but…also allies, in a sense? Oil and water. Fire and gunpowder. If I’d been a man, we probably would have eventually fought each other.
Instead, we slept together.
The worst mistake of my life, but maybe the best night, all in one convoluted, dangerous package.
And then it went to shit.
First came confusion. Then came the night of pain and blood and loss. When I actually needed him, he cut me off entirely.
I remember seeing him briefly right before his graduation ceremony. After a month of no contact and him blocking me everywhere, I finally went up to him, against my better judgment, to demand what the hell was going on.
I never got my answer. Well, I did, it just wasn’t the answer I was looking for, or expected.
“From the very bottom of my heart, Eloise. Go the fuck to hell, and don’t ever cross my path again.”
That, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is my new boss.
With a ding, the elevator doors open long before I’m ready for them to. I grip my bag tighter as I step out and into the main foyer of the law offices.
“Eloise, yes?”
A pretty brunette—Megan, if I remember correctly from yesterday—smiles as she stands from the reception desk.
“Hi, yeah. It’s Megan, right?”
She beams. “That’s me! Now, I’ve been instructed to?—”
My phone rings loudly. I cringe, scrambling to yank it out of my bag and put it to silent. “Sorry!” I blurt. “I am so?—”
I freeze when I see the name on the screen.
“Merde,” I hiss under my breath, wincing and looking up at Megan again. “I’m sorry, it’s a family thing…”
She waves me off easily. “Please, go right ahead.”
I smile weakly and scurry over to a corner of the foyer before I answer.
“Where are you?” Camille blurts.
Shit.
People have frequently used the words “volatile” or “emotionally fragile” to describe my older sister. Those are the ones being nice about it. It’s not that Camille is “crazy”, it’s just…
Well, it’s hard to describe.
