Page 17 of The Monster and the Masochist

And I felt zero remorse over it.

I would always do what had to be done to survive, and I wouldn’t apologize for it.

“What do you want, Nolan?” I sighed, strolling past him and dumping my Chanel bag on my desk so I could unload my laptop.

He chuckled as I settled into my desk, and I watched warily as he leaned back to toss his arms over the back of my couch.

“I came to congratulate you on the Steele case. You did an excellent job, Cassandra. You should be really proud.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“I’m aware.”

His boyish grin widened.

“I’m trying to pay you a compliment, Cassandra. Most people say ‘thank you’ when their peers compliment them.”

I snorted.

“You’re not complimenting me, Nolan. You’re being condescending. I don’t need you to validate my work.”

Only Edmund Sinclair and Vivian Morrissy’s opinions mattered.

They were the only two people who could give me what I wanted.

And what I wanted was what Nolan wanted.

We’d both been competing for partner for the last three years, and he knew I’d just pulled into the lead by winning the Steele case.

Nolan’s eyes flashed, and his smirk widened.

“You’re so hot when you’re being a bitch.”

I narrowed my eyes on him. “I’m here to win, Nolan. I’m not here to make friends. If you want someone to be nice to you, go find one of your little girlfriends that can’t seem to get enough of eating out your asshole.”

He let out a surprised laugh, his eyes shining.

“This is why all the juniors call you cuntzilla behind your back, you know.” He grinned, and I rolled my eyes.

It wasn’t a secret that I wasn’t well-liked by most of the members of the firm, but again, it wasn’t like I was lying awake at night worrying about what Kathy from freaking billing thought of me. I’d been through so much worse than the damn gossip mill at Sinclair and Morrissy LLP.

None of those bitches would have survived a day in my life, so what did I care what they thought?

Besides, if I were a man, no one would give me a hard time about the way I handled myself. When Nolan put his foot down, he was assertive. When I did it, I was aggressive.

It didn’t matter that we were essentially the same person.

I was fine with being cuntzilla. Once I had my name on the wall, none of it would matter, anyway.

“Why are you in my office, Nolan? I have a shit-ton of work to do. I don’t have time to sit here and entertain your bullshit ego.”

“Well, maybe we’d have more time for banter if you’d been here earlier.”

“I told you, my espresso machine wasn’t working. Did you really want me to come in here uncaffeinated? You would have been castrated by now.”

He laughed again, and as irritating as he was, I knew he was just teasing me. I was usually here around seven, and on those days, he gave me shit for being such a workaholic.

I couldn’t win with this guy.