Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Especially when it comes to pretty young things at the office.”
What the hell? Am I being sexually harassed on my second day? By the firm’s co-heads, no less? But a moment later, James stands, walks to the window, and looks out. “You ever think about why people do the things they do, Marnie?” The use of my first name is intentional; it lands like a warm hand on the thigh.
“All the time,” I say, because I do. Because it’s all I think about.
He turns, his face suddenly serious. “I think most people are lying, even to themselves. Especially the smart ones.”
I let that hang, unsure if he’s talking about me or just the world in general.
Brent stands as well, looming over me with that full, intimidating height, his blue eyes direct.
“We’re going to give you a shot,” he says, as though it’s already decided. “We need someone who can handle pressure and isn’t afraid of the truth, even when it’s ugly. Can you do that, Marnie?”
I swallow. “Yes. I can.”
James joins Brent at the head of the table. “Then welcome aboard,” he says, reaching out to shake my hand. “I hope you enjoy your time here.”
His grip is strong, warm, less calculated than Brent’s but more electric. He holds on for just a second too long, as if to let me know this is not the end of our conversation, just a pause. Brent follows, and this time his handshake is brief, but his eyes linger on mine. There’s a heat there that wasn’t present before.
They exchange a look over my head as I gather my things. I feel exposed, like I just got strip-searched and passed inspection.
“We’ll have Jenkins get you started on paperwork,” Brent says. “Your first assignment will be sitting in on our team strategy session tomorrow. Bring your best ideas—and your thickest skin.”
I try to leave with dignity, but my legs are made of silly putty and the carpet is more like quicksand. I keep my head high, but I can feel their eyes on me the whole way down the hall. My heart is jackhammering, and my panties are slicker than a wet puddle after a heavy rain.
As I duck into the bathroom to catch my breath, I look in the mirror and see my face flushed, my pupils huge, my hair slightly coming loose from its ponytail. I look like I just got fucked in a supply closet.
But all I did was survive a second day meet-and-greet with the handsome, dominating men who lead the firm.
Oh my god, how am I going to stick it out when I’m already jangly with nerves, and breathing hard with arousal?
Keep it together, the voice in my head whispers. You’re here for a purpose, Marnie.
Of course, my subconscious is right. Yet I also know that there’s more with Brent and James coming … and I can’t wait.
I spend five minutes in the bathroom faking like I’m fixing my hair, but really, I’m just trying to flush the color out of my cheeks. I splash cold water on my wrists, like that’s supposed to slow my heart, but it just makes my skin break out in goosebumps. I try to imagine what my mother would say if she knew I was having sex fantasies about the men who defended her ex-husband, and the answer is so bleak I almost laugh out loud.
Once I’m composed—or as composed as I’m going to get—I head back to my desk in the intern gulag. The other girls are already busy, and Shay has her earbuds in, but she clocks me from the corner of her eye and smirks like she knows exactly what happened.
“You look like you just got out of a dentist appointment,” she says, voice low.
“Worse,” I reply, collapsing into my chair. “They could have done a cavity search and I wouldn’t have noticed.”
She snorts, then pulls out an earbud. “So how was it?”
I try to summarize, but nothing comes out. “Brent and James are … intense,” I finally settle on.
“Everyone says that.” Shay leans in conspiratorially. “But you got the double-team on day one? Damn, girl. They must like you.”
I bristle at the implication, but the flush comes back instantly. “I’m not sure ‘like’ is the right word.”
She gives me a once-over, eyes sharp and assessing. “Trust me, if they wanted you gone, you’d already be at Starbucks filling out an application.”
I force a smile, but it lands sideways. I keep expecting to wake up and find out I’ve bombed it, or that they saw right through me, but the reality is much scarier—Brent and James want me here. And that means I’m in.
The day blurs past in a static haze of HR emails, more orientation packets, and mandatory e-signatures. At one point, Mrs. Jenkins appears and hands me a thick envelope. Inside: official offer letter, benefits breakdown, and a handwritten note from the partners, welcoming me to the team. I nearly drop the paper. The handwriting is precise, a little old-fashioned, and both men have signed it in ink. Just looking at it makes my stomach twist with nerves and not a little bit of something else.