by Fiona Murphy
Whether I like it or not, someone has to take Cora’s place. I gave Amelia the responsibility of finding the replacement. I have to trust her decision. Even as I want to be mad at Amelia for what she’s pulled, as a lawyer there is only admiration for her play.
****
I’m on the phone, trying to convince my client to stop being emotional and take the acquisition offer before he ends up filing for bankruptcy, when my email indicator goes off. I glance at it to see it’s from my investigator. Bringing up the file, I read through it. Interesting, her father is a Master Sergeant in the Marines. Her father landed, and would ride out, his stint until retirement in Jacksonville, North Carolina, ten years ago. She started working retail jobs only a week after she turned sixteen. I’m impressed to see she graduated from high school early, at seventeen. Too bad she had to pay her way through school, it took almost four years to get an associates at a community college. Then I get to the notes on who Holly Messina really is through interviews with former coworkers.
Sonofabitch.
Chapter Three
I’m dressed in my best suit, bought off the rack at a major retailor fat store. One of the few roommates who was nice had helped me shop for it. She assured me the suit, black with a white shell camisole underneath the jacket, looks good on me. I remember her sighing while saying I had such a pretty face. The words ‘if only you lost weight’ clear enough they could be heard without being said. I’ve heard the words often enough that I simply take them for the compliment they are, ignoring the rest.
With a heart shaped face, high round cheek bones, wide plump lips, and a short pert nose, surrounded by brown hair with natural red and gold highlights, I believe the pretty face comment. However, at only five foot four, it isn’t easy to find clothes that fit someone short and fat. Even though five foot four is supposed to be out of petite, it was too short for average, and all my pants have to be hemmed.
Waiting at a big name coffee shop across from the huge building where Ethan Bishop’s office is housed, I glance at the clock again. I don’t want to be late, even though I’ve been having doubts again about wanting the job—especially when Amelia gave me the interview time as seven in the evening. Sure that I heard her wrong, I asked if I had. No, she assured me, it wasn’t uncommon for Ethan to still be in the office at seven. In fact, he was usually there from eight in the morning until eight in the evening, six days a week. He only took Sunday off because no one else was in the office.
Fifteen minutes before the time I’m due, I head across the street. There is a huge foyer with a long security desk. I give my name, and receive a temporary badge before the woman calls up to the desk of the office to let them know I’m on my way up. I’m directed to the twenty-fifth floor, the elevator for it is on the left. She warns me it’s after six so I need to swipe the badge before the elevator will move. There are six different elevators, two of them only go up to the twelfth floor.
When the elevator opens, the foyer is still brightly lit, everything gleams in light wood and chrome. There is a person at a long reception desk where there are three monitors and two empty chairs beside the man. Even though he’s obviously a receptionist, he is still in a suit that probably cost more than mine. Barely looking my way, he points to the left. “Mr. Bishop’s office is all the way down the hall. His office door will be open, his secretary left thirty minutes ago.”
Slowly making my way down the long hall, I’m surprised to see there are still many people here. Most of the offices on the right are glass fronted, with their doors also in glass. On the left half of the long hallway is an open area of half cubicles, the rest of the hall are offices with glass fronts and doors like those on the right. When I get to the end of the hall, I stop short when I realize how big Ethan Bishop’s office is. Holy crap, my apartment could fit in it. There is a desk to the left that is likely where his secretary sits. The glass door is open, I have all of three seconds to take him in before he looks up.
I’m in deep shit—the man is beyond gorgeous. The pictures of him in the paper haven’t done him justice. His face is all hard lines, a broad forehead, heavily lined above a straight nose, with sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine, not sitting behind a desk. Holy fuck, the suit he’s wearing is crisp, beautifully tailored and far from hiding his body it’s obvious he has the kind of hard, thick muscles you see on an athlete, not a lawyer. Thick inky black hair streaked with silver have my hands itching to run my hands through it. When he looks up, our eyes meet, his black eyes are sharp on me. Yet, he says nothing for what feels like forever.
“Ms. Messina, come in, have a seat.” Sitting back in his chair, his manner is relaxed.
The hair on the back of my neck goes up. After years of growing up with two reserved brothers and a dominating father who ruled his household with an iron fist, I’ve learned the hard way how to read people. I’m not fooled by his relaxed posture, he’s angry. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
Offering my hand for a handshake, I’m proud it’s straight, he stares at me for a moment before giving in, shaking my hand. Now I’m fucked up beyond all recognition. Electricity, sharp and biting, travels from my hand up my spine. Nearly yanking my hand from his, my legs give out as I plop down into the chair. Jaw hard, I take a deep breath and slam the door shut on what just happened. It doesn’t matter if I’m attracted to him, as far as he’s concerned I’m invisible. At my size men like him look through women like me.
“I didn’t have much choice.”
A nod is all I allow myself, biting my tongue.
“Amelia tells me you’re perfect for the job. Tell me, how perfect are you for the job? Did Amelia even tell you all your responsibilities?”
“While she gave me some details, she didn’t tell me everything, no. I met with Cora today. We went over her day, then her week. Perfection, like many things, is in the eye of the beholder. Am I capable of doing everything Cora does? Yes. Cooking, cleaning, running errands, and ensuring your day runs efficiently without any disruption is something I will be able to do.” Picking a spot on his dark blue silk tie, I’m proud my voice is strong. I know I can do this. Basically, the man wanted a wife without having one. From grinding and making his coffee, to going shopping for him, to ordering new suits and shirts, and keeping his home clean. It wouldn’t be difficult. They were all the things I watched my mother do for my father. While his schedule is the one thing that might take some getting used to, I know I can manage it.
“Not my day, my life. Right now, there is a cleaning service that comes in to deep clean the things I viewed as too hard for Cora’s age three times a week. When you start, they stop coming. While technically you’ll have Sunday off, if I call, you answer.”
“When you say jump, I say how high?” No fucking way. I bite my tongue until I taste blood. My eyes go down to my hands in my lap.
“Exactly. Not only are you intelligent, but you have a smart mouth: telling a mother if she hadn’t wanted her daughter to get measles than she should have gotten the immunization. But because she didn’t, now she’s put other children as well as her daughter in danger. Then there was the doctor you worked for, who, when he said you couldn’t have the day off, you told him either he gave you the day off or you were going to report his ass for writing OxyContin scripts to men who looked like drug dealers.
Your last boss is saying you owe him for the suit you ruined by upending his coffee in his lap. But maybe it was a good thing he didn’t drink it, as one of your former colleagues said you were constantly threatening to put a sleep aid in your boss’s coffee. Something about how he might call you fat, but he still grabbed your ass and rubbed his hard tiny penis against your ass.” He’s daring me to refute what he said, only I can’t, so I don’t say anything.
“Interesting, now you don’t have anything to say. Baby sister Amelia is going to be disappointed you couldn’t even make it through the interview.”
This motherfucker. Looking
up, I see a smug grin on his face. Since I wasn’t getting the job, the least I can do is tell him what I really think of him. “Baby sister stopped being a baby a long time ago, you need to stop treating her like one. I get you’re protective of her. In the real world, god knows she needs it, but she is a good damned lawyer in her own right. If you are going to play the benevolent older brother by putting her as an associate on cases with you, then let her handle them as you would any other associate, instead of coming in at the end and making her look like she doesn’t know what she’s doing. If you don’t, then very soon Amelia is going to go to another firm, where she’s treated like anyone else, not a baby. When that happens, it won’t be long before the resentment will set in on both sides.
“You might be rich, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat people as if they are less than you. She said you were an asshole, I think she’s being kind. I might not have graduated from Harvard, but someone with even a below average IQ could do what you need them to do. Refusing five people your sister picked for you shows you’re just being a toddler having a temper tantrum. What the fuck ever, get over it, that’s life.” I get up to leave.
“Sit.” One word, but holy shit, the violence contained in it makes ice run down my spine. My legs give out on me.
“Explain about Amelia leaving—now.”
“Basically, what I said. She has considered leaving and going to another firm where she’s not the baby sister to anyone. You have four times named her as your associate on cases, had her do all the work, and then twice you didn’t even have her go to the client meeting. Once, you had her sit out a deposition when any other associate would have been there. Her complaint is you treat her like your personal paralegal.” My throat is so tight my words are almost a whisper.
He’s shaking his head, opening his mouth as if to defend himself, only to cover his hand with his mouth. It’s obvious he had no idea Amelia felt the way she did, and the idea of her leaving is upsetting. “When was the last time she said anything about leaving?”
“The last time she got really upset was almost three months ago. An athlete contract negotiation, Singer, I think.”
Closing his eyes, he shakes his head. “I wasn’t trying to make you apologize for what you said. I wanted you to own it. I appreciate a straight talker, someone not afraid to say what they’re thinking, exactly when they’re thinking it. I’m not a mind reader, and I don’t play games. If I’ve upset you, say it right then and tell me why. I don’t promise it won’t happen again, but at least I’ll know what the hell is going on. I’ll see you tomorrow at six o’clock in the morning.”
I’m dismissed, with the job. Before he changes his mind, I speed walk my ass from the room.
Chapter Four
Watching her walk away, my eyes are drawn to her ass. Fuck. I can’t take my eyes off her. Long after she disappears my cock still aches with longing. There has to be a mistake, my body is acting up due to it being over two weeks since my last fuck. I’ve never wanted a woman like her before. I have a type, and since the age of sixteen I’ve stuck to it. Holly Messina isn’t my type. She doesn’t have the long legs, or high pert breasts, with a waist I can nearly wrap my hands around. My cock getting hard happened on a daily basis. I tried to reassure myself. However, what I didn’t imagine every day was bending a woman over my desk and pounding into her body while I filled my hands with her spectacular breasts. For a moment, I feel for her old boss, having her little lush body constantly within touching distance. So, why am I pissed at him and Holly for calling her fat? She isn’t fat, she’s petite with a lushly rounded figure a man could sink into for hours, hell, maybe even days.
No, no way. I’ll make a call, although I rarely do repeats, in case a woman gets the wrong idea that I want more than just one night. Now, I’m willing to do it to get the vision of Holly Messina’s sweet ripe mouth around my cock out of my mind.
She picks up on the first ring, no surprise she’s up for me coming by in an hour to take her out to dinner. We both know what I really want, but she’s one of those who needs the dinner and the picture of us out together before she gives it up. I don’t mind, I’ll give her what she wants in order to get what I need. Holly Messina is no more than one of those catchy tunes you can’t get out of your head, the answer is to replace it with another tune.
Problem solved, I turn to the issue of Amelia. My mind runs over the four cases I’ve assigned her as an associate. Running through them, I depend on my total recall, which got me through school and only Amelia knows about. Day by day, decision by decision, I try to defend myself—only I can’t. She was right, I treated her differently than any other second year associate I would have assigned to work with me on a case.
Amelia has every reason to be angry with me. Instead of helping her as I was trying to do, I hurt her standing, not just with our clients, but within the firm. I know how to fix this, only I don’t want to. Yet, I know I have to or I stand the chance of losing Amelia, and I couldn’t handle that. Bringing up the schedule, I look through what I have planned tomorrow and schedule her for my only open space, lunch.
Done, I call down for Ricky, my driver. I’m ready to go. It only takes a few minutes to clear my desk before I shut down my computer.
****
Robin is still talking about her housekeeper, and how she should fire the woman, but doesn’t want to go through training a new housekeeper. This is not a conversation I want to listen to. I checked out almost fifteen minutes ago, when she first started complaining—the moment we sat down. A few murmurs that sound like agreement were all she needed to make her happy. My eyes cling to her face, refusing to notice the way her clavicle is jutting out of the strapless dress she’s wearing. A glance at her plate tells me the salad with the dressing on the side has been pushed around as much as it can take. Remembering the things this woman can do with her tongue I ask her if she’s ready to go.
Shit, she’s still talking. Then she smiles, telling me she knows exactly what I’m thinking of. The waiter is quick with the check. My hand goes to the small of her back as I guide her out of the restaurant, refusing to take notice of the fact she has an extremely flat ass. From my memory, her ass was nicely shaped, even if there wasn’t much of it. I’ve never been an ass man anyway, I’m into tits and hers are perfect. High, small, areola a perfect quarter size in bright pink, tilting up like the inside of a martini glass, topped with pointy nipples, those are the tits that make my cock hard. Not the large breasts overflowing their cups—like Holly’s. My cock is in so much trouble for not getting hard until I thought of Holly’s breasts and wondered what they looked like. No more, I tell myself as I follow Robin up to her condo.
“Here I thought I wouldn’t hear from you again. I’m glad you called.” Her arms wind around my neck as we step into the elevator.
“What can I say? You’re a gifted woman. I’ve thought about your mouth around my cock often.” I haven’t really, maybe once or twice since I fucked her almost three weeks ago.
“Well, I already had something pretty gifted to work with. I love how thick you are when we fuck, although it wasn’t easy to suck your cock—as long and as thick as you are. I’m up for another challenge, though.” Her hand is on my flaccid cock.
This isn’t happening, only it is. All I can think of is her ribcage pressing against me. Her breasts, think of those breasts, runs through my mind as I follow her out of the elevator. I even reach up to cup them as I press behind her while she unlocks the door to her condo, only it’s not enough. Her body isn’t soft, sinking into mine. My cock refuses to rise.
Still, I allow her to take my hand and lead me into her bedroom. She drops my hand then slips the barely existent dress off her body. My eyes go to her uncovered breasts, they are just like I remembered, but I can’t ignore the rest of her body. Fuck! All I can see is Holly Messina looking ripe, sensually lush, and inviting. Great, now my cock is hard.
Robin goes down on her knees as she frees my cock. Her mouth is on
me, only my cock doesn’t get harder. Looking down all I see is fake platinum hair around an oval face perfected through surgery and injections. Closing my eyes, I give up. “I’m sorry, Robin, I am. I’ve been under a lot of pressure with this case. I thought you could help, but it’s too big for even your wonderful mouth.”
I zip up my pants, ignoring her astonishment. I’m sure no one has told her she didn’t turn them on. “Ethan, I can keep trying. I don’t mind at all, really.”
“Again, I’m sorry Robin. I’ll call you.”
Down in the car, I’m getting strange looks from Ricky, I ignore them. This is a temporary setback. I do not want Holly Messina, she isn’t my type. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. I’m no longer the juvenile delinquent vagrant, living off the streets. Now that I’m the success my father told me I never would be, I want all the things that come with it. I want the sought after cars, the perfect condo, I want a woman every man longs for and that isn’t Holly.
She is pretty, with her heart shaped face, wide sherry-brown eyes, and pert little nose over a wide kissable mouth. A dozen guys out of twenty would want her. Only, she isn’t cover girl gorgeous, leaving men panting in her wake. The women in my past have been on the covers of magazines, or at least in the pages of the latest high-priced lingerie catalog. I don’t want to want Holly Messina. There’s also the fact when she becomes my employee tomorrow, she becomes off limits, employees are always off limits.
So what if my cock wants her right now? That’s right now. It wouldn’t last long, my cock doesn’t want any woman for long.
Chapter Five
When my alarm goes off at five o’clock in the morning I fight the urge to cry. I’m not a morning person, at all. I dress quickly, thankful Cora stated casual dress was fine, no uniform or anything. I’m in worn-out jeans that cling, however the long purple top goes to mid-thigh, hiding my most embarrassing areas. In the bathroom, I brush my hair then braid it tight and sleek. My hair, at an inch past my shoulders, is too heavy for a ponytail, yet too long for me to leave loose. I’ve tried shorter cuts but I haven’t found anything I liked enough to keep up.
