Page 17 of Detective for the Debutante (SAFE Haven Security #3)
“We’re rivals,” I say, mentioning the contentious relationship of college football and hoping he focuses on that.
He smirks. “Only on the football field. I think you’ve been a great addition to our team. And once you finish law school, I’d love to see you come back here.”
Why? I want to ask the question, but recognize the situation I’m in right now.
“Really?” I try to keep my tone light, and a small part of me is excited by the prospect of having a job directly out of law school.
One my parents have nothing to do with.
One in a field I want to focus on.
But there are strings with this job. And that’s becoming crystal clear.
“Of course it will depend on passing the bar and your grades, but something tells me those are foregone conclusions.” He reaches out and squeezes my knee, invading my personal space.
My leg jumps, but he doesn’t move his hand.
“We should grab a drink sometime. Discuss some of the classes you’ll have and a continued internship while you’re at school.”
My skin crawls as he continues to lightly grasp my knee, his fingers almost rubbing, but not enough to be certain if I’m only imagining it.
I know some of the attorneys will go to happy hour together.
Lindsay even shared there are networking expectations for full-time employees.
But I haven’t gone, despite being invited a few times.
His index finger shifts against my leg, and revulsion ripples down my body as the alarm bells sound off again. The urge to stand is off the charts, but I stay seated.
Why? Get up. Walk away. This guy is a creep!
Clearing my throat, I glance down at where his hand rests against my skin, hoping he gets the clue.
He doesn’t.
“There’s a happy hour on Friday. At Cue Craft. We could talk more about your future then. A few of our junior associates will be there, and you can pick their brains about their experiences with law school.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been gladder to have plans in my life.
“Oh, um, shoot. I already have plans.”
His hand tightens painfully on my leg and I stand, dislodging it. Finally.
Where’s my pepper spray when I need it?
You shouldn’t need it at work .
He rises from his seat, closer to me than I had expected given where we were seated.
“Plans?” His breath is a mix of coffee and something else. Whatever it is, it’s foul.
A mix of garlic and onion and I try to hold my breath and put some distance between us.
“Mmm. I’ve been so busy with work, I haven’t had the chance to explore the city and it seems like an amazing place to live.” My words run together and I try to add a little more space between us without looking too obvious about it.
Kenneth has been anything but subtle. His attraction is as clear as the windows making up two sides of his office. But I’m not interested. Job or no job.
“There are a lot of things to show you,” he says.
Yuck. My stomach somersaults at the hidden meaning of his words, the coffee I had earlier threatening to make a reappearance.
“That’s what Murphy says too,” I say, trying to yank the conversation back into safer territory.
“Detective O’Connell? How do you know him?”
“I met him a couple of years ago. He actually helped my brother-in-law with a case his security firm handled. He’s a really good friend.”
Kenneth’s face morphs like he tastes something sour.
“Maybe you’ll be able to grab drinks another time then,” he says, his gaze narrowing as he studies me.
Not if I can avoid it.
“That sounds…” I stop myself from using the word terrible. “Sure. I, um, I should get back. I have some work I need to do after this morning’s court appearance.”
“Of course, we’ll talk soon. It’s been a pleasure, Leigh.”
Why does it feel like there’s a veiled threat to his words? On the surface, they seem innocent enough, but the way he says them creates a fight-or-flight response I’ve never experienced at work before.
His attention centers on my chest despite the fact that the top I wore today doesn’t show any hint of cleavage. Instead it goes all the way up to my neck.
I’m not sure what I say, but I don’t breathe again until I’m back at my desk.
Kenneth Scott, with his intimidating behavior, scares me.
But the more I analyze the situation, the more I wonder how much I really have to tell anyone.
And if I say something and he’s able to talk his way out of it?
I’ve effectively blackballed myself out of my internship and experience that would look good on my application for Project Justice.
I want that job more than anything else.
I spend the rest of the day debating with myself, studying Lindsay—a woman in a man’s world if there ever was one. Both of her bosses are men. I’ve never met Chief Bailey, but if he’s anything like Kenneth, I wonder if she’s dealt with the same sort of behavior I experienced today.
I want to ask her, but a small part of me is embarrassed to ask. Theoretically, I know I should. I’ve seen enough in the news and learned enough in my classes so far to know I should be able to ask. But something is keeping me silent.
I need to think about it more, maybe even talk to Sydney about it later and get her advice. She’d never be caught in a situation like I had found myself in. Mind made up, I spend the rest of the day in my cubicle or with Lindsay, not wanting to be caught alone—and off guard—by Kenneth again.
Counting down the hours until I can go home and shower.