Page 15 of His Good Girl

I looked down before my eyes could betray me. The grief was not a wave anymore. It did not knock me under the way it had at twenty. But sometimes it found a door I had forgotten to lock and stepped inside wearing my father’s voice, my mother’s perfume, and the familiar sounds of the kitchen on a Sundaymorning. I breathed through it, and Callum let me. He did not rush to fill the silence, which was another form of mercy I had not known I was missing.

After a moment, I said, “I didn’t ask you because I didn’t want to become another promise you had to keep. Another burden you didn’t ask for.”

He was quiet.

Then he said, “Avery.” His voice was soft.

I looked up.

“You are not a burden because your father loved you.”

That was when I almost cried, which was absurd because I had survived the firing, the text from Callum’s personal guard dog, the Uber ride, the lobby, and the word nepotism without losing face. But kindness, direct and unadorned, could still take my knees out. I looked at the corner of his desk and blinked hard.

“I’m not going to cry in your office,” I declared in an unfortunately whispery voice.

“No?”

“I have decided against it.”

“Strong choice.”

“I thought so too.”

He gave me a moment. Then he shifted, and his body language turned more formal all of a sudden.

“I need to be clear about something,” he said.

My stomach tightened. “Okay.”

“I can help you get through the door and into the room. I cannot carry you once you’re there. I won’t do that to the company, and I won’t do that to you.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

The question was firm enough that I sat a little straighter.

“Yes,” I replied.

His gaze held mine. “This would be a real job and not a favor disguised as one. There will be real hours, real expectations, real deadlines, and real criticism. If you work here, you will report day to day to Benjamin and to the operations team, not to me. You will be expected to handle confidential information without drama, to be early, to take notes, to follow through, to ask questions before a mistake becomes expensive, and to learn quickly. If you are late because you overslept, that will matter. If you miss a detail, that will matter. If someone is hard on you, you will not assume cruelty before you examine whether the criticism is correct.”

My face heated, but I did not look away.

“You understand that?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Say more than yes.”

I hated that my pulse jumped at the instruction, but it wasn’t because he was harsh. In those words, there was command so natural it did not need to raise its voice, and my body, traitorous little she-beast that it was, noticed command before it noticed context.

“I understand it’s a real job,” I began, careful and clear. “I understand that getting an interview because I know you is not the same thing as earning the position. I understand that if I embarrass myself here, I embarrass you too, and I don’t want that. I don’t want special treatment. I want a place to do good work without having to survive someone’s personality disorder as part of the benefits package.”

His mouth twitched. “That last part may be difficult. Benjamin is technically part of the benefits package.”

Despite everything, I smiled.

Callum leaned back, studying me. “You’d start as an executive projects coordinator on a probationary basis. Ninety days. It’s not glamorous. You’d support internal project communications, meeting prep, schedule coordination, proposal materials, and whatever else Benjamin decides is urgent enough to threaten civilization. Some of the work will be tedious. Some of it will be stressful. Right now, we’re moving into a complicated quarter, so discretion matters.”