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Interesting.
“Who did you work for before you got the records clerk position here?”
“Am I on trial?” She points at her chest.
“It’s a simple question, Arianna.” And yes, she is.
“It’s Ari.”
“I pay your salary; I’ll call you whatever the hell I want.”
“You’re impossible,” she huffs.
Angry has never looked so beautiful.
Stop it; she’s staff.
If she thinks I’m being impossible now just wait until I’m mid trial; that’s when I really do become an impossible fucker. “Who did you work for before you got the position of records clerk here?” I repeat the question, desperate to know why she loathes lawyers so much.
“Williams and Jones.”
That explains everything. Nick Williams is a low-life piece of shit. A smiling knife to be exact, and he would imprison his own grandmother if it achieved his goals. Word on the street is he’s helping to grease the wheels of criminal gang activity in the city. Something we at Hart Law do not tolerate.
I pull my hands out of my pockets, unbutton my suit jacket, and locate my cell from the inside pocket then call Janice, who picks up immediately.
“Talk to me.”
As if she was expecting my call, Janice calmly lists a multitude of reasons why Arianna is a suitable replacement for yet another secretary of mine who decided not to come back because they couldn’t handle the fluctuating workload and overtime.
“Send it over,” I bark down the microphone after Janice suggests I read Arianna’s strong résumé, then I end the call and wait for it to drop into my emails.
Arianna slams the laptop she was holding on to like a lifeboat down on the table. “What are you doing?”
“Due diligence, Arianna,” I reply. “All breakages must be paid for.” I point to the laptop, slightly amused by our encounter. Her salty attitude gives me a thrill, and not one of my secretaries has ever challenged me the way she has.
“This is bullshit.” Her voice is even stronger now. She sounds more like the woman I spent the night kissing and licking every inch of.
She adds, “I didn’t apply for the position to be your secretary. I don’t care if you think I’m suitable or not, just let me go back to the position I was hired to do.” She pushes herself to her feet, reminding me that she is much shorter than I am by at least a foot. “Working under you would be a nightmare.”
I like her. Far too fucking much and she has no idea how much of a nightmare I can be.
I grin wickedly. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I didn’t hear you complaining when you were under me the other night.”
Her mouth drops open in shock before she folds her arms in front of her and taps her right foot against the floor like a cute but disgruntled bunny.
Engaged in a standoff, we share a charged unblinking stare.
“You know I’m right,” I say at the same time the sound of an email whooshing into my inbox breaks our face-off. I hold my pointer finger in the air. “Don’t deny it.”
“You’re intolerable and bossy.” Her tone is cold and disapproving.
“Because I’m the boss.” I’m not being cocky; it’s the truth.
Tapping the email, I open the document namedArianna Donovan Résuméthat’s attached, then skim read hercredentials. “You’re overqualified for a records clerk,” I state, impressed by her résumé.
“I changed positions because I wanted a less stressful role and a better quality of work-life balance.”
I quickly glance up to catch her right eye twitching like it did back at the bar, and I know she’s lying.