Miss Understanding
Aubrey Bondurant
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is for mature audiences only.
Cover by Marisa @ Cover Me Darlings
Text copyright © 2020 by Aubrey Bondurant
Contents
1. Kendall
2. Kendall
3. Liam
4. Kendall
5. Kendall
6. Liam
7. Kendall
8. Liam
9. Kendall
10. Liam
11. Kendall
12. Liam
13. Kendall
14. Liam
15. Kendall
16. Liam
17. Kendall
18. Liam
19. Kendall
20. Liam
21. Kendall
22. Liam
23. Kendall
24. Liam
25. Kendall
26. Liam
27. Liam
28. Kendall
29. Liam
30. Kendall
31. Liam
32. Kendall
33. Liam
34. Kendall
35. Liam
36. Kendall
37. Liam
38. Liam
39. Kendall
40. Liam
41. Kendall
42. Liam
43. Kendall
44. Liam
45. Kendall
46. Liam
47. Kendall
48. Liam
49. Liam
50. Kendall
51. Liam
52. Kendall
53. Liam
Epilogue
Coming Soon
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Also by Aubrey Bondurant
Chapter One
Kendall
How could a man that pretty be such a complete dick?
I sat at my desk, positioned outside of my boss’s office door in a secluded corner of the modern office space, and opened a secret file on my computer. After he’d complained about the turkey sandwich I’d brought him for lunch, it was time to make a new entry. Was it my fault the cafeteria had been out of wheat bread? Was his stomach so special it couldn’t handle country white on a Thursday afternoon?
42. Paper cut on his right hand. Unexpected infection sets in. Cannot jerk off properly for weeks.
None of the entries on my list of how I’d like to see my boss suffer were violent or too long term. After all, I did try to be a nice person. Which is why I’d settle for a minor accident which would moderately inconvenience him or make him have a bad day. Also, I wouldn’t mind if it made him uglier in the process. Like entry number fourteen where I wished he’d get a big cold sore on his lush, full lips, or entry twenty-nine where I wished he’d be hit with a bout of acne on his stupid, perfect face.
Typing these things throughout the work week seemed to get me through his barking demands, ungrateful, snobbish demeanor, and general lack of personality.
Yes, Liam “Asshole” Davenport was the bane of my existence. And had been over the last four dreadful months I’d been working for him. He was rude, condescending, and worst of all, dismissive. He made it clear with every sigh that my title of legal secretary made me less than in his eyes. Then again, as bad as he was as a boss, at least he always behaved appropriately. The same couldn’t be said for the last partner for whom I’d worked.
God, I couldn’t wait to quit this job. Hopefully, I could do just that in the next few months.
“Ms. Tate, I need you in here,” came the sound of his way-too-sexy-for-being-an-asshole voice over the phone intercom. He didn’t utter a please. No if you have a moment. And he never called me by my first name, even though I’d offered in the beginning, thinking perhaps if we weren’t as formal it might break his icy demeanor.
I stood up, grabbing my notebook and pen, smoothing down my newest skirt, happy with the purchase. My thrift-store clothes were both fashionable and budget friendly. Since I worked for one of the most successful partners in one of the top law firms in Los Angeles, I was expected to dress well.
But no matter how well I dressed, walking into my boss’s office always made me anxious. There wouldn’t be one nice word coming out of his mouth. Nor would he indicate he was the slightest bit content with me as his legal secretary. Perhaps he had his own list of ways he’d like to see my reassigned to someone else.
Liam was one of the youngest to ever make equity partner at Lowry and Anderson LLP, and it seemed there was no stop to his trajectory. He certainly wasn’t turning into one of those partners who rested on their laurels once achieving the milestone. Instead he seemed to be driven to keep doing more.
But the real reason I was always nervous walking into his office was because of how beautiful he was. It wasn’t a word I would normally use for a man, but it suited him. He had the chiseled features of a Nordic Viking with the ice-blue eyes to match. His blondish hair was perfectly cut and styled without an inch of a receding hairline. But it was his eyelashes that often gave me pause. They were the long, sooty, lush type any girl would kill for. But none of his looks mattered the moment he opened his mouth.
“You don’t knock?” he snapped, not bothering to glance up from his laptop.
My gaze flicked from him to the view out the windows. His office was one of the largest on the twelfth floor with a vantage point over downtown LA. I’d spent many a minute wishing I could be somewhere outside of the window rather than here, speaking with him.
“You were expecting me to come in, so no.” I didn’t often bother with a retort, but this morning I was feeling a bit feisty. It was the best way to combat the intimidation factor.
It earned me a rare quirked brow. A reminder that despite him acting like a robot most of the time, he was in fact human.
“Fine. How is the Hong Kong trip shaping up?”
“Let me grab your itinerary, and we’ll go over it.”
There it was. His unmistakable sigh.
I’d come in with a pen and pad in my hands trying to be prepared, but he expected I’d also know the subject for which he’d beckoned me. Considering he had three upcoming trips in the next eight weeks, how was I supposed to guess which one he’d want to talk about, if in fact I could mind read and know he wanted to discuss travel? Couldn’t he have said, “I need you in here to discuss the Hong Kong trip”? Nope. It was almost as though he enjoyed setting me up to fail just so he could give me his trademark sigh of disapproval.
I was back in five seconds. Maybe six if you counted the one extra I took to roll my eyes before returning. “Yes, now about Hong Kong. You’re set to leave next Saturday at five.”
“In the evening?”
“Yes.”
“First class?”
As if I’d dare book anything else for his pretentious ass. I could guarantee his suits cost more than a full month’s worth of my pay. God forbid they touch a coach seat. Granted, I didn’t actually know the difference between first class and coach myself. I’d been born and raised in Southern California and pretty much stayed here my entire twenty-four years. Sure, there was the one road trip to Vegas when I’d turned twenty-one where my friends and I had all piled into a room for one night, but I’d yet to fly on an airplane.
“Yes. Of course. You’re in first class.”
“At the Four Seasons hotel?”
&
nbsp; If he’d read his damn itinerary which I had emailed him last week, he’d already have his answer. “No, it was full, but I booked the Ritz Carlton.”
His full lips turned down into a frown. As if he was put out by the thought of having to rough it at the Ritz?
“You arrive the day before the deposition. I have a car and driver who will pick you up from the airport and take you to the hotel. Then another car will take you to the office building where the deposition will be held. The address of the office and the driver’s number are all in your portfolio.”
“I can’t stress how important this deposition is.”
Perhaps if he told me for a fiftieth time it would sink in. “I understand.”
It was my key phrase whenever I wanted to tell him something like, no shit. Yep, just call me Miss Understanding.
The deposition he spoke of regarded a former government contractor employee who had evidence against the CEO of a security firm. This CEO had committed fraud and embezzled the employee pension funds. The key witness, who’d been the CEO’s assistant, had fled to Asia to keep his whereabouts on the down low, but he had agreed to this deposition if we came to him in Hong Kong to do it. Considering the number of people who were suing, most being represented by this firm, his testimony was critical.
“Nothing can interrupt the preparation I have planned for the next two weeks. I’ll need you full-time on this.”
“I’ve cleared your schedule as requested. And I have no other priority but this deposition.” Wasn’t like I had another attorney I was working for. But I did dread the next couple of weeks. I’d learned Liam was the most stressed and the moodiest before a trial or deposition. Beyond that, preparation for this deposition would mean long days for me. At least I had a winter break next week in my night classes. If I had to work late, I wouldn’t have to sacrifice school nights.
Suddenly his cell phone vibrated. He ignored it. I didn’t think anything of it until his office phone rang a moment after.
He made brief eye contact with me but made no move to check the number.
Keeping myself from sighing aloud that he expected me to answer it, I stood up, stretched across his desk where the phone was inches from him, and picked up the receiver.
Dickhead’s office who can’t answer his own damn phone even when it’s directly in front of him. How may I help you? Lucky for me it came out, “Liam Davenport’s office. How may I assist you?”
Hysterics from a woman greeted me. “Oh God, oh God, I need to talk to him.”
What did I want to bet it was an ex-girlfriend who’d realized he’d ghosted her? Although I had some sympathy for her, I would keep him from having to deal with it. It was my job. To be the gatekeeper here at the office. To guard every billable minute Liam Davenport could be working for the firm. She’d have to deal with stalking him after hours. “Ma’am, please calm down. What is this regarding?”
My boss paused in his typing, looking over.
“This is his mother. His father died. I need to speak to him, please.”
Oh, crap. Talk about instant guilt. Here I’d been thinking she was some jilted lover. “I’m terribly sorry. Of course. One moment.”
I put the call on hold, mainly so I could take a deep breath. I may loathe this gorgeous, pompous ass I worked for, but I wasn’t heartless. “Your mother needs to speak with you urgently.”
“Tell her I’ll call her later.” Evidently, I was the only one in the room with a heart. His eyes were already back on the screen of his monitor, perusing his email as if he couldn’t be bothered.
I refused to be the one to tell him his father had died. “You need to speak with her now.”
He shook his head. “Actually, I don’t. Take a message or tell her I’ll call her back.”
I lost it. It was the only explanation for my next words. “Pick up the fucking phone, Liam.”
His shocked blue gaze met mine, and for a moment I thought his next words would be “you’re fired.” But he must’ve seen it in my eyes. The unmistakable seriousness of the moment.
He reached over, taking the receiver and pressing the button to take her off hold.
Figuring this was a private moment in which his world would be falling apart, I turned around and left the office.
Chapter Two
Kendall
As I sat back down at my desk, I realized I was shaking. Probably because a year ago I’d received a similar frantic call from my mother at the office. She’d been in hysterics, telling me my father had been taken by ambulance to the emergency room. It had been a heart attack. The two-hour cab ride south to Orange County had been the worst of my life. I hadn’t known if he’d still be alive by the time I got there. Once I’d arrived at the hospital and found his room, I’d held his hand, cried my tears, and prayed harder than I ever had in my life for him to survive. Luckily, he had.
He’d listened to the doctors, changed his diet, and started taking better care of himself. He’d even lost thirty pounds. The only problem was he’d had to cut down on the hours he spent on the factory line. My mother, who was a school teacher, had taken a second job cleaning houses on the weekends. As their only child, I’d tried to help out where I could while also trying to finish school to get my bachelor’s degree.
Now I took a deep breath, emotional over the feelings Liam’s mother’s call had evoked. Then the ramification of telling my boss to pick up the fucking phone started to sink in. I’d also called him by his first name. He wouldn’t care for that slip, either. By now, chances were he was beside himself learning about the death of his father, so perhaps he’d forgive the overstep of my cursing at him. God knows I couldn’t afford to be fired.
Even if he did forget, I probably needed to apologize for my outburst. But walking in there right now wasn’t an option. It would be selfish to make it about me and my need to ensure my job was safe. After the terrible news, he’d need a moment to absorb. He also needed time to speak with his mom. Knowing him, he’d probably take charge of making the funeral arrangements. I imagined he’d have to go home, wherever that was, in order to be with his family, and I’d offer to help with the travel logistics.
Oh, God. But what about the deposition? We’d have to postpone. Surely, they’d give an extension for a situation such as this.
As my mind wandered about what this next week would hold, the clipping of heels snapped me out of my thoughts. Looking over, I saw it was Tabitha Owings, another partner with the firm. I suspected she had the hots for my boss given the way she eye fucked him any time they shared a room.
“Tell Liam I’m here to see him.” No please, no smile, no niceties. I bet she treated her shoes better than the staff.
She was a beautiful woman, probably in her late thirties, but her coldness toward anyone who wasn’t a partner was legendary around this place. She and my boss were a match made in asshole heaven. Normally I wouldn’t hesitate to buzz him, in order to get her out of my hair, but today I had to make an exception. I had to play the unhappy and underappreciated role of gatekeeper.
“Unfortunately, now isn’t a good time.”
Her newly injected lips made a weird duck-faced pout. “I checked his calendar, and he has nothing booked for the next half hour.”
“Something came up.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss—”
Just then Liam’s office door opened, and we both turned to see him standing in the frame.
“Hello, Tabitha,” he said.
Her mouth curved into a seductive smile. “Liam. I came by to discuss the Maynard file, but your secretary tells me it’s not a good time.”
I hated the way she said secretary. Only in a law firm did they seem to keep this title. Outside the legal world, most other firms had evolved to calling the position an assistant. But Tabitha took it a step further. She used the word secretary as if to remind me I was in a law firm caste system where I should be executing a curtsey and emptying her bed pan. Yeah, so I
had a very active imagination sometimes, but the point was she was condescending.
Forgetting about her for a moment, I studied my boss’s face. He didn’t look any different than before his mother’s phone call. No red eyes, no ashen expression. No visible worries at all. It was as if his mother hadn’t told him mere minutes ago that his father had died.
“Ms. Tate is mistaken. Now is fine. Come in, Tabitha.” His ice-blue eyes only flickered to me briefly before he ushered her into his office.
Gatekeeping was such a thankless job.
She was in there thirty minutes before strutting out in her four-inch, red-bottomed shoes. She wore a smug look on her face. For all I knew, she’d just blown him in his office. Honestly, if it put him in a better mood, I wasn’t sure I cared.
“Ms. Tate, my office,” came the devil’s voice from behind me.
Cue the dreadful music. My gently worn black flats were soundless on the carpeted floor as I walked into his office, wondering if it would be for the last time.
Chapter Three
Liam
I’d sat there motionless for a full five minutes after I’d hung up the phone. My mother had cried, shrieked, and then finally calmed down enough to tell me how my father had died. Aneurysm. Quick and probably painless. Not the way I would’ve picked for him to go.
Miss Understanding (The Miss Series Book 1) Page 1
