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I suppressed a yawn as I pressed the heel of my hand to my tired eyes. I’d come up to Ezra Wright’s office at the beginning of the day, and I hadn’t left since. I snuck a glance at the time and released a groan. It was after three, and I hadn’t eaten a thing, nor had I moved an inch.
“You know you can take a break,” Tommy said. “Wright runs a tight shit, but he does let us out to eat.”
I smiled at his words. Tommy was Ezra’s Wright’s paralegal. A first-year graduate student, and someone who’d become a fast friend. “I just want to get this done,” I said, turning my attention back on the files I’d been sorting. “Besides, you haven’t moved from your desk either.”
Tommy chuckled. “That’s because I’m worried that you are going to show me up in front of Wright,” he said. “The last girl barely got off her phone, and you’ve already finished more in a day than she did in three months.”
My cheeks reddened once more at the compliment. “Well,” I said, standing with a groan. “How about I go and get us both a cup of coffee from the kitchen?” I asked. “At least then, we can both get through the next few hours.”
“Sounds great,” Tommy said. “That swill is like gasoline. We will be up until tomorrow morning.”
I laughed. Tommy and I had been working steadily for the past few hours, but he’d interjected a fun anecdote every once in a while, which broke the day up. I was used to working in front of Maggie’s office, which meant that we worked in silence, too worried that she would yell at us.
“Cream and sugar?” I asked, getting up from my desk.
“Lot’s, please. I enjoy having a stomach lining.”
I laughed once more as I made my way to the kitchen. Ezra Wright’s office was on one of the nicer floors, so there was a full kitchenette with working coffee pots. Normally, I snuck up here to grab a cup since what was on our floor was basically sludge.
Pouring two cups, I thought about how odd of a day it had been. I’d started work thinking that I would spend the day doing some filing and answering phones, instead, I was working in Ezra Wright’s office in an effort to impress my boss and hopefully get a full-time job, which was something that I’d never considered.
Sighing, I grabbed the two full cups as I tried to keep the sinking feeling in my stomach at bay. There was a reason that I worked at a temp agency, and it wasn’t just because I lacked any sort of actual skills.
After Nikolai shot me and I survived, I’d decided that I would never go back to the Bratva. It was great in theory, but slightly more challenging in practice. I’d run with no plan, which is why I’d only gotten into Manhattan, and why I had no ID, Social Security card, or passport.
Luckily, the temp agency was sketchy as hell, and they hadn’t questioned why I didn’t look a thing like Julia’s license. But if I was hired by city hall, I would need to provide my own identification, and it would need to look legit, which was a huge problem.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice the body in front of me until I slammed into it. “Shit!” a man yelled, and I gasped as hot coffee slipped down my arm scaling my skin.
“Oh my god,” I yelled. My hand was on fire, and I nearly dropped the mugs that I was holding as I looked up and saw Ezra Wright in front of me, covered in the hot coffee I’d spilled on him.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, frantically. I turned from side-to-side unsure of what to do. My skin was turning bright red, and I wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or heat. “Are you alright?” I’d spilled almost a full cup across Ezra’s suit––an expensive designer wool, which was not going to be cleaned.
Ezra grabbed my forearms in his large hands stopping my spastic movements which were causing more coffee to slosh everywhere. “Let me take these.” He grabbed the coffee cups from me and moved them to an empty desk.
“I am so, so sorry,” I said. I reached across the desk and grabbed some tissues. Logically, I knew that they weren’t going to do much, but as I pressed my hands to Ezra Wright’s designer shirt, I wasn’t thinking clearly. “I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing, and I am so terribly sorry.”
Once more, Ezra circled my thin forearms with his large hands, drawing my attention to his face. He was stunningly handsome in person, much more so than on the magazine and newspaper covers. His dark hair was slightly shaggy in a professionally styled way, and his eyes were a bright, heartbreaking blue.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
I shook the stars from my eyes, wanting to smack myself for being so silly. “I’m sorry.”
He chuckled. “You said that already.”
I pulled away slightly, using one of the tissues to wipe the coffee from my sticky hands. I hissed slightly as the paper touched my tender skin.
“You got yourself pretty good there,” he said.
“Are you alright?” I asked once more. Ezra’s shirt was sticking to his skin, outlining his muscles in a way that made my mouth dry. I was starting to understand why he was Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor. “I think I poured a full cup on you.” I winced.
He shrugged. “It’s fine.” He pulled his wet shirt away from his skin with two fingers. “I think the shirt caught most of it.”
“I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.” The words came out before I could stop them. I barely had money to cover dinner and my subway ride home this week. I couldn’t afford to dry cleaning this suit. Not at all.
Luckily for me, Ezra didn’t seem interested in my offer. “We should get your hands under cold water,” he said, his brow furrowed.
