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Prepare a birthday gift for the mayor’s son.
Another coffee in two hundred minutes.
Any failure to perform these tasks and you’re fired.
She clenches her fist every time her phone dings or vibrates. I continue doing it on purpose to distract her.
What? I said I would play, not that I would play fair.
I toy with her, scattering her attention every few seconds. She has to check the phone, then go back to the document, flip back a page, look at the phone again, and so on.
Her cheeks turn red and I swear she’s about to stand up and storm in here—or storm out.
Before she can do so, the door to her office opens and my friend, Knox, appears in the threshold.
We both came from London after secondary school, even though I’m one year older than him.
Knox and I studied law together at Harvard, passed the bar together, and got into Weaver & Shaw at the same time. He specializes in criminal law, though, because he loves dealing with criminals.
He’s a freak like that.
Recently, he was the counsel of one of the parties in a public trial that got the media’s full attention. It had his own personal drama involved as well, but he came out of it even stronger than before. The fucker.
Anyway, Knox never knocks, but he also rarely pays attention to my assistants.
Today, he does.
My friend pauses at the threshold and gives Nicole a once-over. Since he came to our secondary school right after she left, she doesn’t recognize him.
But he recognizes her.
Perfectly so.
In fact, a sly grin paints his lips as he stalks toward her.
I stand up, letting my phone fall to the desk before I march toward the door. The moment I open it, I hear the sadism in Knox’s tone. “My, my, who do we have here?”
“Excuse me?” Nicole asks incredulously.
“Knox,” I call his name with a coolness I don’t feel.
He gives me a mischievous grin. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new…blondeassistant?”
I don’t miss the way the fucker emphasizes the word “blonde” and I’m about to use his tactics about “how to get away with murder” against him.
Nicole, however, seems confused more than anything else. All her earlier irritation has disappeared, too.
I grab Knox by the shoulder. “You, come with me.”
He reaches into his jacket, retrieves his card, and puts it in front of Nicole. “My name is Knox Van Doren. Call me if you need anything, Ms.…”
“Adler,” she says. “Nicole Adler.”
“And the mystery woman finally has a name.” Knox smiles wide like a bloody twat and I resist smacking him upside the head and revealing my reaction to the whole situation. “Call me.”
Before she can grab the card, I swiftly lift it and bark at her, “You have five minutes for that report.”
Then I pull Knox with me into the office and lower the shutters, blocking her and her slightly bemused, slightly frustrated expression out of view.
