AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Turns out, Nicole was applying for an assistant position in the firm. As the bitch karma would have it, I recently let go of my one hundredth assistant, so Nicole was the perfect fit to fill in the role.
She’ll be my target for these couple of weeks and then she’ll beg me to let her go.
Little Miss Bitch will wish she’d turned around and ran the moment she saw me in my office.
I impatiently wait until she’s engrossed in the file again, then I lift my phone and press the button that connects me to her.
A slight jump lifts her shoulders and she purses her lips before picking up. To give her credit, she sounds welcoming. Soft, too. “Weaver & Shaw, Daniel Sterling’s office, how may I help you?”
“Are you finished with the contract?”
She stiffens visibly, steals a glance at me through the shutters, then stares back at her desk. “I’ll be done with it in a few.”
“A few isn’t a time frame. You should’ve been done with that ten minutes ago. Just like you should’ve brought me coffee three minutes earlier this morning. If my lunch is also late, don’t bother coming back. Are we clear, Ms. Adler?”
She pauses for a few seconds, probably to get her bearings. She’s clenching one of her fists on the pile of papers and grabbing the phone so tight, her knuckles look white.
It must be so humiliating to go from being the queen bee of the school to becoming an assistant. To go from wearing name brands and putting on premium perfume to buying cheap clothing from the store.
She was the type of bitch who walked all over those weaker than her with her designer heels while carrying her Dior bag. The type who smiled but never meant it because she excelled at being a fake, ugly monster who looked sweet like peaches but was rotten on the inside.
Considering what I know about her, I’d have sworn she would’ve cracked by now. She would’ve called me a “bloody idiot” like she did back then and walked out.
Her pride comes before everything. Even when she fell from grace and her mother was no longer in the picture, she never lowered her head or acted like a victim.
Never.
So the fact that she’s been keeping up with my ludicrous commands and harsh treatment is strange, to say the least.
It’s almost as if it’s not the same Nicole from back then.
“Yes, sir,” she says after a while.
My chest expands, then constricts in equal measure. I shouldn’t be feeling this fucking conflicted about the way she calls me “sir” when I intended to break her down with it, but fuck me, I’m not used to it.
Not one bit.
And I’m not sure whether that’s a good or a bad thing.
“I need that file in five minutes. If there are any mistakes, you’re fired.”
I hang up and pretend to focus on the screen of my computer. I can see her from my peripheral vision snapping the phone in place and glaring at me.
When I lift my head, she tactfully slides her attention back to the files.
I retrieve my phone, then I send her a series of tasks via text, separately.
Go to the IT department and get me a tech.
I need the draft for the Miles contract in thirty minutes.
Lunch in sixty minutes.
Another coffee in eighty minutes.
Book a meeting with Judge Harrison today.
Cancel golf this Sunday and come up with a good excuse.
