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“I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I got the contract with Susanne Cosmetics, and I was wondering if you knew a good, reasonably priced lawyer who could review it for me.”
“Email it to me. I’ll review it.”
“But you’re not—”
“An attorney? True, but I’ve reviewed my share of contracts. I also have four attorneys here in the office who can help me with the legalese if necessary.”
“Braden, I didn’t call you to give you work. I’m perfectly willing to pay an attorney.”
“I have the best attorneys here at corporate.”
“None of which I can afford, I’m sure.”
“Did I say you had to pay?”
“No, but—”
“Forward it to me. I’ll be in touch. Goodbye.”
Yeah, I was short with her. I have to take a step back.
For God’s sake, I cut a business trip short for this woman. I agreed to “date” her. I’m letting her call me her boyfriend.
I cannot and will not let my infatuation with Skye Manning affect my work.
As for her contract? It will take me ten minutes to review and pronounce sufficient. There’s no need for her to pay for an attorney, not when I’m perfectly capable of reading the document and offering advice.
I check my phone. It’s noon, so I order lunch to be brought in.
Just as it arrives, Claire returns. She walks in carrying the containers. “I’ll get this set up for you.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, my nose in my phone.
Claire sets a bare spot on my desk with a ceramic plate and stainless steel utensils. I hate eating out of takeout containers with plastic flatware. The damned forks always break. Ben says it’s because I spear my food like I’m spearing a fish. Whatever. I’m worth a billion dollars, and I’m not going to use plastic utensils. Yeah, I said it.
Claire’s phone buzzes, and she looks up.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “Finish up in here. It’s lunchtime. Whoever it is can call back.”
She raises her eyebrows at me.
Man, I am going soft.
She finishes setting up while my phone buzzes. “Yes,” I say.
“Mr. Black, Skye Manning is here to see you,” says the floor receptionist.
“Oh?” There goes that flip-flop of my heart again. Damn. “Sure, send her back.”
“All right, thank you,” she says.
I turn to Claire. “There’s a young woman on her way here. It’s okay to let her come into my office.”
“Sure, no problem, Mr. B.” Claire exits.
About a moment later, a knock at my door—a harsh knock.
“Come in.”
