Page 14 of Remington’s Mate

Lie. It was a huge, long contract, and although most of it was boilerplate, she had to go through every page to fill in the specific details for this particular candidate.

She checked her notes again. “Um. Do you have the candidate’s information? Like, for instance, his name and address? Social Security number? The file I received from my predecessor is incomplete.”

Once more, Sutcliffe looked at her like she was an idiot. “I don’t have all that. You can get it from him when he comes in.”

Then how the fuck was she supposed have done the contract already? She blinked at him, keeping her face bland by sheer force of will, and not mentioning that he at least had to know the guy’s name. He wanted her to wait, she’d wait. “I’ll do that, sir.”

He looked around the office. “And I don’t smell coffee. Why the hell haven’t you made it yet?”

Because last week he’d told her he wanted it fresh, not sitting stewing in the damn pot.

“I’ll make some fresh.”

“And get pastries for the meeting. You know which ones I like.”

No, she fucking didn’t, because last week he’d also told her he was off carbs.

“Yes, sir.”

He walked past her into his office, shaking his head and muttering about not being able to get decent help.

Jaeda opened her emergency drawer and briefly contemplated whether to go for the elephant, or straight for the hairbrush.

Would it be that much of a blot on her resume if she killed her boss in her second week? The right employer would overlook that little faux pas, right?

Probably not. She sighed and shut the drawer, then searched her files for the receipt from the last batch of pastries her predecessor had ordered from company catering.

By ten-twenty, she’d served Sutcliffe his first cup of coffee, ordered and received pastries, found the contract template, and filled out what she could without any fucking information.

At ten twenty-five, she got a call from the security desk in the lobby. She buzzed Sutcliffe on the intercom. “Your appointment is here, sir. Would you like me to go down to the lobby and meet him?”

“No, I’ll do it myself,” he said. “And for God’s sake, make fresh coffee. You know I hate it when it stews in the pot.”

“I’ll do that, sir.” Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

As he passed her desk, he stopped, looming over her in a way she knew he thought was intimidating. “I want you to remember, Jaeda, that you are in a confidential position here at Stuyvesant. And that you signed an NDA when you started work here.”

She’d signed the standard non-disclosure agreement, promising not to share any sensitive or proprietary company information with anyone unauthorized, blah blah blah.

“Of course, sir.”

He leaned in closer, so she was craning her neck uncomfortably to look up at him. His crotch was also too near for comfort, and it was all she could to not to poke him in the balls to make him back off.

He said, “Nothing that you hear or see in this office can leave these walls. We work on very sensitive projects here. A lot of money is on the line. People’s lives are on the line.” He paused. “If you were to break that NDA, the consequences would be very serious.”

Holy fuck. Was he threatening her?

Oh, hell no.

She looked innocently up at him. “I’ll keep that in mind. Do you want me to call down to reception and tell them you’re on your way?”

He stood up and straightened his tie. “You do that, hon.”

As he walked out the door she called sweetly, “Don’t forget to ask him his name.”

Dammit, she thought as he left. One week in, and she was already getting snarky with her boss. Be professional, she told herself, opening the emergency drawer and putting her alcoholic elephant on the desktop in case she needed him in a hurry.

You will not let this asshat defeat you. Do not growl. Do not bleed him. Humans frown on that shit, and you are in the land of the humans. Human, human, human.