Page 1 of Miss Understanding

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?”

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.”