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"No wonder she looked so confused when she left and I told her to go to bed on time."
Nyla sighed. "Neither of us is organized enough for this, Archer. I'm too scatterbrained and used to dealing with artistic details, and you are used to hiring people to do your organizing for you. I thought you said you hired an assistant last week?"
Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I flopped down on the same loveseat I'd just had Lola bent over. "I did. Audrey. And she's great. At legal stuff. Super organized, really intelligent, good memory."
"She sounds perfect. So why isn't she helping you with this?"
"I just… I'm not quite sure how to ask her. She might think I'm a freak and then quit being my assistant altogether. Then, I'll be double screwed. I can't risk it so I just haven't figured out a way to broach the subject."
"Well, figure it out," she huffed. "I can't keep doing this and you can't keep making mistakes like that. It could ruin our reputation."
"I know. I'm sorry. I'll figure it out. I'll make flashcards or something." Flash cards had gotten me through law school. Surely they would help here as well.
Nyla wasn't impressed with my suggestion. "Or you could just ask your assistant to… assist you. Seriously, Archer, unless she's been living under a damn rock for over a decade, she probably knows you're kinky. It's pretty common knowledge at this point."
She wasn't wrong. When you win the lottery with your best friends the day before you all graduate college together, it's a feel-good human-interest story. When the six of you pool your earnings, buy a pair of skyscrapers and turn the top level of one of them into a BDSM club, it’s sensationalist tabloid fodder. We, of course, had done both. "Okay fine, I'll ask her."
"As soon as we hang up," Nyla instructed.
It was eight pm on a Wednesday. I wasn't doing that.
"Tomorrow," I promised, hanging up before she could say anything else.
Audrey
"Good job on that brief, Audrey. I think it's really gonna help our case."
I preened under my boss's praise. After years of being told I was stupid, worthless, and ugly, every positive affirmation from Archer Brennan sent me into a tailspin of happiness.
"Thank you, Sir. I'm almost finished with the second one on the list. I should have it in your inbox within the hour."
It wasn't due for another week. But I liked being ahead, and the look of genuine surprise on Archer's face was worth every minute of the late nights and the sleep I sacrificed to stay ahead.
"I should give you a raise," my boss mused.
The pleasure his words gave me was circumvented by the memory of my dad screaming in my face.
"You dumb piece of shit! How the hell are you going to survive in the real world? You can't do a single thing right to save your life. When you grow up and go out on your own, I swear you'll die from stupidity!"
And so on and so on it went. The worst part was, I'd actually started to believe him, and even as awful as he'd been to me, in the end, he'd kicked me out before I had a chance to leave.
And, even though the months after had been the unique kind of hell that makes it hard to wake up in the morning, here I was: surviving. Thriving even, some might say. Although I wasn't one of them. I was still on edge every second of every day and despite my new boss's enthusiastic praise, I still had a lot of healing to do. Most days I still lived in fear of everything being taken from me in one fell swoop.
"How does a raise sound to you?" He took a step inside the small office and smiled at me. I didn’t trust it.
"Oh no, Sir. It's okay. It's too early."
"Stop. You are worth it. Besides, don't forget the saying:More money, more problems. Or in this case, more responsibility. Audrey, I have a problem and I believe you might have the solution. So I have a proposition for you."
And there it was. The skeeziness that made Archer Brennan no different from any other jackhole on the planet. Everything came back around to sex. I was used to it. Or I should be. I had the stereotypical Barbie-girl measurements with huge boobs, a tiny waist and the perfect hourglass figure. So I got hit on a lot. But I thought Archer was different.
"I have a boyfriend," I lied, pulling out the required stops to have a chance, if there were any, to keep my job.
Archer's eyebrows shot up, nearly disappearing into his hairline. "Oh no." He took a step back, waving both hands in front of him. "Oh no. Not that kind of proposition. I'm sorry. Let me start over." He glanced up at the clock. "Actually, it's about lunchtime. Let me buy you lunch. There's an excellent little bistro down the street."
I had a bag lunch in my desk drawer, a salad that was mostly lettuce and a tablespoon of dressing with an apple for dessert because my mother taught me that a lady was always watching her figure. But I abhorred most vegetables and got sick of salads.
Bistro food wasn't the steak I was craving, but it sounded a hell of a lot more appetizing than rabbit food. Besides, it probably wasn't good form to turn down a lunch offer from your boss and if Archer wasn’t hitting on me, I was very curious about his proposition.
