Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Lori
Iwatch Cole disappear through the open doorway, the feel of his hands lingering on my body, the taste of him on my lips, and oh God, he tastes good. He tastes like the answer to everything I have ever wanted wrapped in one package: a dream job, a dream man who even says that he will follow my rules. This should please me. It does please me. I meant everything I said to him. Staying is my best option, but there have to be rules. I can’t be the girl who slept her way through her mentorship, despite the fact that I am going to bust my ass, and I truly believe Cole will push me and make sure I leave this job winning.
The phone on the desk buzzes, and I snap out of my personal feelings, and hurry forward, grabbing the line. “Cole Brooks’ office, can I help you?”
“You’re not my fucking secretary,” Cole says, “and I don’t want anyone thinking you act like my secretary. You answer with your full name.”
“I don’t mind helping.”
“Do so by acting like you deserve the respect you have earned, and as far as I’m concerned, fighting for your mother and your future without quitting makes you deserve it more than most.”
He hits a nerve with those words and proves that despite my excellent ability to remain unreadable to most, he somehow sees me, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
He changes the subject. “Can you look in my right-hand drawer and see if I left a file inside?”
I reach down and open it. “You did.”
“Of course, I did. Can you scan it and email it to me?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll do it right away.”
“And so you know, it’s a personal matter, which makes this a personal favor. I don’t care if you see the contents. I’m going to trust you until you give me a reason not to trust you. I hope you can now do the same with me because that matters personally and professionally.”
“I can,” I say. “I will. Cole, I—”
“Didn’t know me when you thought I was an asshole. I get it. But you know me now.” His line beeps. “Gotta run. I’ll call you later.” He hangs up.
I set the receiver down and open the file to find details on the winery he owns in Napa, and what looks like a massive disruption deal with a major retailer. He might not like wine, but he obviously does it as well as he does everything else. This isn’t a big secret document, but I don’t see Cole handing this to any intern or even some random woman he got naked with. And that’s his message to me. In his own words: I’m different. He’s different. I just have to hope that for now, that makes us a great legal team.
I stand up, grab my computer and connect to the printer in the office. In a few minutes, I’ve finished the scanning and returned the file to the desk. By the time I’m done, Cole has sent me his email and I quickly shoot him the document and text him an update: File in your email.
I owe you a bottle of wine that costs more than $40, he replies.
I smile in spite of myself, remembering that night with a warm flush over my skin that has me shaking off the memory, and standing up. I exit the office and head to Maria’s desk. She ends a call and looks up at me. “Yes, Cinderella?”
I frown. “Cinderella?”
“I don’t like secrets. I helped file your paperwork for the scholarship program. I know what you’ve been through, at least what’s on paper, which can’t begin to reflect the real struggle, I’m certain. Bottom line though: You’ve been through hell and this is your Cinderella story. I like it. I already like you. What can I do to help?”
“Thank you for telling me you know,” I say. “But you can help by not telling anyone else my story. I don’t want—”
“Charity,” she supplies. “I heard Reese say something like that about you to Cole. But honey, winning that scholarship isn’t about charity. It’s about being damn good and worth it. And Reese and Cole are both good men. In this shark-infested world they make this the right place to be.”
“I agree,” I say, her words validating the conclusion I came to from the time I left that stairwell with Cole and when I’d shared that with him. “I need to hire a secretary for Cole. I need to know he can undo my decision if I make a bad choice. Is there a temp service you recommend?”
“There’s one HR uses frequently,” she says. “I’ll call down and get a name.”
“Thank you,” I say. “And so you know, since I’m reviewing files for Cole, he told me to work in his office. I’ll be at his conference table.”