by M. Never
One day, I tell myself, as I contently sip on my piping hot coffee and slip into the empty elevator. I lower my eyelids as the warm, creamy taste of heaven kindles in my chest, chasing away the worry for a millisecond.
It’s amazing how something so small can bring you so much comfort.
I’m snapped out of my momentary peace when someone else enters the elevator, the lift shaking slightly as he steps authoritatively inside.
“This one’s full.” He hits the close button haughtily, guarding the opening like the entrance to Fort Knox.
“Full?” I scan the medium-sized box. It’s just me and him. I knew who it was the moment he spoke. Alec-fucking-Prescott. Yay. So much for my momentary peace.
The double doors slide closed and all the air in the elevator is sucked out like a vacuum.
Fucker.
I press my back against the wall, clutch my coffee cup, and pray the snake doesn’t bite. I still can’t shake off the way he looked at me Friday night on the balcony of the firm’s penthouse. I felt his eyes on me from the inside out. The ground shook beneath me like an earthquake, and for a split second, I thought I was plummeting to my death. It was . . . an out-of-body experience. And although it only lasted a few seconds in real time, its impression is permanently branded me. I shiver from the recollection, hoping Alec doesn’t catch wind.
I’m not that lucky. He shifts to the side of the elevator, leans on the wall, and stares straight at me. My small shiver morphs into uncomfortable fidgeting. What is this weirdo’s deal? I push my glasses up my nose and stare back. If he’s trying to intimidate me, it’s not going to work. At least, I’m not going to let it show that it’s working. Tage once told me, “be a rock on the outside even if you feel like a pile of rubble on the inside. It’ll help you survive.” I have taken that advice to heart, because most of the time, that’s what I am. A pile of rubble within. And the only way to protect my fragile self is to confine my feelings in a prison of granite.
Neither of us says a word as we rise toward our office lobby. The whole time, it feels as if Alec is sizing me up. What does he see? Definitely not the girl from the other night. That’s probably what he’s wondering. How can she be the same person? I have news for you, Alec, I have no idea. Most of the time, I struggle to find my identity.
The elevator dings on our floor, but Alec isn’t quick to move. I swallow hard, trying not to notice his striking blue eyes or sharp, handsome facial features or thick, wavy black hair styled back perfectly. He’s the epitome of temptation when his sour attitude isn’t getting in the way.
“Did you have a nice weekend, Miss Paige?” he asks almost as if he’s taunting me. As if he knows whatever happened between us on the balcony is still lingering in the air.
“Did you?” I shoot back. The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. It’s the only part of the man that moves. And crazily, I feel that small gesture’s effect throughout my entire body. It buzzes from my stomach to my groin to my scalp and over again. “I’ve had better.” I do nothing but blink as the doors slide open and he strides out. Leaving me, my coffee, and my confusion behind.
I walk across the lobby and take my seat behind the long, front desk — plop into my seat is more like it. I can’t get Alec-fucking-weirdo out of my head.
Lara swivels in her chair next to me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I definitely feel like I just left a freak show.” I turn on my computer and take another hefty sip of coffee.
“Did Alec say something strange to you in the elevator?”
“Alec is just strange, plain and simple.” I avoid the question entirely.
“Ever.” Lara slides across the shiny floor in her chair. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
I swing my head over, my stomach dropping. “Like what?” No one knows about my sordid past. Who my stepfather is or what he did to me. It was buried in a sealed file years ago because I was a minor, and that’s where I would like to keep it. The only reminder I have left of those dark days is Tage. He’s the last link, and I can’t seem to escape him. As much as I want to. As much as I try, he always turns up, no matter how many times I tell him not to. No matter how many times I tell him I don't need him anymore. He’s my one solid reminder of that life. Maybe if he goes, all the heartache and pain from that time will go with him.
“Like, is there something going on with you and Alec?” she whispers. I almost throw up in my mouth.
“Something between me and Alec? Eww, no. He’s a royal asshole who is all fucking high and mighty. Why would I want anything to do with him?”
“I don’t know.” Lara shrugs. “Maybe because ever since I dragged you off the balcony Friday night, you’ve been acting kind of strange.”
“Stranger than usual?”
Lara purses her lips. I have her there. “Yes, stranger than usual.”
“Like how?”
“Like your head is totally in the clouds, and now, getting off the elevator together, and that look you had on your face. Did he kiss you?” Her voice elevates conspiratorially. “Did he push you up against the wall and say, ‘fuck the paperwork’?”
“Ugh.” I shove Lara away, and she rolls across the floor, giggling.
“You’re an idiot.” I slide my glasses back up my nose.
“You love me.” She cheerfully types something on her keyboard.
“Sometimes.” I roll my eyes. I have a pile of work to do and the last thing I need are distractions. Especially the Alec Prescott kind. “Speaking of classified relationships, how’s yours? Did you and big L have a fun-filled weekend?” Big L is Luke’s code name.
“Yes,” Lara sighs. “I’m stupidly in love. It’s official.”
“More importantly, is he?” I peer over at her.
Lara stops all movement and stares off into space. I watch her pretty face, wondering what she’s thinking about?
“I think so,” she finally answers sweetly. Contently.
I hope so, for your sake.
“Maybe Alec isn’t so bad once you get to know him,” she considers.
“Maybe I’ll never find out because he’s completely off limits,” I hiss. Lara, drop it.
I don’t have a chance to get another word in edgewise because an email comes through . . . from him.
Alec: Can I please see you in my office? Now.
I gulp. What the fuck does he want now? He usually only tasks out Lara.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath as I stand and straighten my button-up shirt.
“What is it?” Lara rolls back over to inspect my screen. “Oh?” Her blue eyes widen at the email. “He’s bossy.”
“It’s nothing, I’m sure.”
“Un-huh.” She rolls back to her computer slowly. I don’t know what’s worse, Lara confronting me directly or Lara confronting me passive aggressively. I conclude both ways suck.
“Don’t sign the paperwork without a lawyer reviewing it first.” She winks.
“Enough with the Fifty Shades accolades,” I huff. The last place I’m going to end up is chained to Alec’s bed. And a non-disclosure agreement will never, ever be an option.
I stomp off in the direction of his office, preparing myself for the migraine I’m going to have after this encounter.
With steely resolve, I knock on his door frame. Let’s get this over with.
“Alec, you wanted to see me?” I elevate my voice politely.
He flicks his crystal blue eyes up from his desk. “Yes. Don’t just stand there, come in.” His tone isn’t exactly rude, but it’s not altogether pleasant either. I enter his office. It’s comfortably large, with three huge windows looking out over Midtown Manhattan and dark, glossy furnishings that scream high profile. “A case that requires immediate attention has just been passed over to me, and I’ll need an extra hand. I have a lot of research to pull together and a small amount of time.”
I stand in front of his desk a bit confused. “Doesn’t Lara usually assist you on ca
seloads?”
“She has, in the past. But for this one, I’m requesting you.”
“Why?” I blurt out, dumbfounded.
“Why not?” Alec crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.
Because you have barely ever given me the time of day, and when you did, you were a complete and utter asshole. “Don’t think you can handle the workload, Miss Paige?”
“I can handle it just fine. What I can’t handle are snide remarks and passive-aggressive comments.” I cross my arms, mirroring his position.
Alec’s eyebrows shoot up, but the rest of his facial features stay in complete control. “If I have offended you recently, I apologize.”
Really? Do ya? ’Cause your tone isn’t indicating as much. It’s still flat and disconnected.
“You just don’t have the most pleasant work demeanor sometimes.” If I’m going to work with this douche I’m going to put him in his place . . . as professionally as possible.
Now the corners of Alec’s lips turn up. I must be amusing him. “Miss Paige, you have quite the set of balls.”
My mouth drops. That is completely inappropriate work language.
“Thank you.” I pick my jaw up off the floor and smile. Just so he knows.
“I think this arrangement is going to work out just fine.” Alec rocks back and forth in his leather office chair.
Let’s hope so, for both our sakes. “I’ll email you a preliminary to-do list, and then we can reconvene later this afternoon after you review. This case has high visibility and a short window of time. We need to work fast and stay on the ball.”
I nod in agreement. The present is about to get that much more complicated.
“Anything else?” I double-check before I leave.
“Yes.” Alec picks up his phone. “Thai or Chinese?”
“Excuse me?” I cock my head.
“Thai or Chinese for dinner tonight? We’ll be working late.” He glances back and forth between his screen and me.
“Um,” I swallow thickly. “Chinese. I hate Thai.”
“Done.” He waves me off.
Dismissed.
I walk down the hallway back toward my desk in a bit of a daze. Working closely with Alec Prescott. Working late with Alec Prescott. Working all alone with Alec Prescott.
I plop down into my chair and stare at my computer blankly.
“Well, what did he want?” Lara immediately interrogates me.
“He wants my help with a case.” I gaze over at her. “I’m going to be his right hand, apparently.” I’m still processing this.
“Oh, really?” Lara’s eyes light up. “Stealing one of my junior partners, are you?”
Like she cares. Less work for her, more anxiety for me.
“I didn’t do it purposely.” I move my mouse around to wake up the screen.
“Sure about that?” She gives me shit.
“One hundred and five percent.” Alec’s email pops up as my Outlook loads.
I open it to find a thousand links and instructions ten-miles long. Groan. “You can totally have him back if you’d like,” I offer Alec up on a silver platter.
“Nope. He’s your problem now.” Lara waves goodbye.
“Fantastic.” I drop my chin into my hand and pout.
“Don’t look so disappointed. You’ll thank me one day.” She pops her eyebrows.
“I highly doubt it,” I drawl, spiraling into despair. It’s only Monday and already it’s turning out to be one hell of a week.
I spend all morning combing through Alec’s instructions, reading up on our client, the complaint, and a whole host of other legal mumbo jumbo that swallows up hours. This wage discrimination case was just dumped in Alec’s lap and now we are left scrambling to prepare. He’s none-too-happy about it either. Other emails that have landed in my inbox from him have been curt, laced with annoyance, and clearly written in haste.
This is going to be so fun. I’m just the luckiest damn girl in the world.
Our client is being sued by several male employees whose wages where reduced to match their female counterparts. I’ve assisted on wage discrimination cases before, but this is the first time I’ve ever seen a situation like this. And apparently, according to the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission's website, reducing the wages of either sex to equalize their pay is a big, fat no-no. Our client looks to be screwed.
“Fucking Christ.” Alec shuffles around papers and folders on his desk as I walk into his office for our afternoon meeting. It’s three o’clock, I’ve barely eaten, my eyes hurt, and I have enough caffeine coursing through my veins to power a speed boat. By the looks of it, so does Alec. “Goddamn Tim with his horrific organizational skills and paternity leave. These case files are a disaster.” He’s clearly frustrated, and I’m clearly amused. I know I shouldn't find satisfaction in his frustration, but I do. Karma’s a bitch. I know that all too well.
“I reviewed everything you sent, read up on the laws, researched the company, and set up interview times with complainants starting tomorrow.”
“Good. Thank you,” he responds distracted, piling up the papers and folders. “We need to review all of these.” He picks up the thick pile and gestures to me. “Take a seat and strap in; it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”
I juggle the loose papers and overstuffed folders in my arms as I reach over his desk. There is a lot to review. “I tried to organize everything by date so we can get spun up as quickly as possible, but Tim’s handwriting is chicken scratch, and I can barely make heads or tails of his damn notes,” Alec seethes.
“Good thing you have me, then.” I amble over to the round desk on the other side of the room and place the stack down. “I’m fluent in chicken scratch.” I push my glasses up my freckled nose.
Alec just blinks at me blankly. I guess he doesn't appreciate my sense of humor. Sorry, *shrugs* I tried. “I’ll just get started on this.” I sit down demurely and begin to sort through the paperwork. I feel like a dumbass. I’m just going to keep my trap shut from now on. No point in trying to establish a courteous working relationship with the man. He clearly isn’t interested.
Shithead.
I throw myself into reading. Tim’s handwriting isn’t that bad. I’ve seen much worse. I digest all the discovery that’s available and read over the depositions. Alec wants a face to face with all the participating parties because he’s anal retentive like that and strives to be overly prepared. A trial date is scheduled for next week, but Alec has made it abundantly clear he wants to settle. The opposing side is making settling difficult, though. They want their day in court, and it looks like they want to drag the company's name through the mud while there. Like Alec would ever let that happen. Our client’s reputation is what’s really on the line here. Settling will make everything go away quietly. And according to Tim’s notes, the company has been generous with what it’s willing to offer. It feels like there is more going on with this case than just the pursuit of fairness.
By six p.m., my eyes feel like they are going to fall out of my head. I can’t remember the last time I read so much, and that’s saying a lot, because in this job, all I basically do is read. I toss my glasses on the table and rub my tired eyes. There’s still an entire stack of papers I have to comb through. We’re going to be here all damn night.
“Ready for a break?” Alex asks from across the room.
“Fuck, yes,” I expel, then slap my hand over my mouth. Whoops. Totally inappropriate work language. Alec grunts. It’s more amused than annoyed, which I thank God for. I need this job. I want this job. The very last thing I need is Alec getting on my case for not acting professional enough.
“No worries, Miss Paige. Feel free to drop all the F-bombs you want. Lord knows I have been silently cursing my head off. Fucking bullshit of a case.” Alec pushes his pile of papers away from him, sending some to the floor. “This shit is open and close. These fuckers just want to drag McKinney’s name through the mud. They’re wasting everyone’s time an
d money, including their own. Morons.” He runs his fingers through his disheveled, dark hair. The move is sort of hot. I shouldn't be noticing that. Nope, not at all.
“Tell me how you really feel,” I quip.
“I tell it how it is.” He shrugs. “No point beating around the bush.”
“Guess not,” I agree, even though I’m an expert at avoidance.
Alec’s phone buzzes on his desk. He reads the message quickly.
“Dinner has arrived.”
Thank God. My stomach has been rumbling for the last forty-five minutes. I barely had time to take three bites of my lunch today.
Several minutes later, a young delivery boy drops off a large brown bag that smells to die for. I know it’s just Chinese food, but being on the brink of starvation is making it that much more appetizing.
Alec tips the boy wearing a Giants cap and funky boombox T-shirt as I pull out all the contents of the bag. There are half a dozen little white take-out boxes scattered on the table by the time I’m done.
“It looks like you ordered half the restaurant.” I begin to open each one.
“I like variety, and you didn't specify what you wanted to eat. I took a shot in the dark.”
“It all looks good to me.” I open the chopsticks and attack the chicken and string beans. Yum. I try to interpret the red writing on the container but it’s fruitless. I can’t read Chinese. “Where did you get this from?” I don’t know if I’m just famished or if the food really tastes this damn good.
“I can’t give all my secrets away.” Alec settles into the chair across from me cockily before picking up his own little box to dive into.
He is so self-important. I internally roll my eyes as I take another bite of the buttery chicken. Fine, keep your stupid, secret —ridiculously amazing — food find to yourself.
I continuously poke at my dinner with the chopsticks, thoughtfully picking and choosing the best pieces to eat. Not a word is spoken for I don’t know how long, but when I notice the deafening silence in the room I look up to find Alec staring at me. Intently. Deliberately. Pointedly. He traps me in his icy gaze, the exact same way he did on the balcony, and just like on the balcony, my flesh becomes fevered. It feels foreign, my own skin too tight, tingling with unease. His eyes penetrate me in a way only one other person on this Earth has managed to. How? Why? I chew the food in my mouth slowly, concentrating heavily on swallowing. I’m under a spotlight, and I don’t know how to react.
