Chapter 2
Afaint dinging sound registers in my brain, and I’m ushered into my new reality as the elevator doors slide open.
Taking a step forward, I can already hear the hustle and bustle down the halls behind reception.
The fourteenth floor of this downtown high-rise that I now call my office hosts a symphony of ringing phones, shuffling papers, and the gliding metal of file cabinets being opened and closed.
A voice like champagne bubbles floats over the hum, interrupting my thoughts.
“You must be Avery! I mean, Attorney Anders! I’m so sorry,” a young woman gasps, words tripping over each other.
Pivoting, I see her: straight, glossy brown hair laid perfectly against a pale blue blazer, a smile so wide it could be on a billboard for a dental office. She radiates the sort of warmth that makes you wonder if she’s powered exclusively by the sun.
“I’m Maddie, the receptionist,” she chimes.
I’m unprepared for her energy. It’s the kind of unfiltered enthusiasm typically reserved for cult leaders. I blink, recalibrate, and remember to smile back.
“That’s me. Just Avery is fine,” I manage, keeping my voice carefully neutral.
Her lips part, and I see a flicker of surprise before she corrals it into a practiced, professional beam.
“You’re a lot more...chill than I imagined,” she says, her eyes running an appraising circuit over my navy pantsuit.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. Not the nervous, high-pitched titter I usually deploy in awkward professional situations, but something almost genuine.
“It’s all a front,” I confess, letting my guard drop just a hair. “I’m actually the textbook definition of neurotic.”
She nods knowingly. “Don’t worry, you’ll fit in here just fine.”
I inhale, soaking in the ambient noise and nod.
“I think you’re right.”
“You’re meeting with Attorney Sterling, right? His office is just down this hallway. First one on the right,” Maddie explains, motioning behind her. “We’re glad to have you here, Avery. Happy first day!” she beams, unconcerned with the anxiety I’m fighting to conceal.
Her optimism settles into me, filling up the spaces where nerves and doubt had been living. For a moment, I’m convinced that I really can start fresh here. I turn towards my future, eager to meet it head-on.
The whisper of my heels on the marble floor competes with the patter of my pulse. Glass walls glint in the early morning light. Everything gleams. My fingers trail over gold accents, savoring the lavish attention to detail.
I find a door marked with a nameplate that reads “Attorney Sterling” and stop, sure that the partner who sat on my interview panel must be expecting me on the other side. I hesitate, then tap softly.
“It’s open,” calls a rough voice.
I reach for the handle, panic sinking in. He sounds so…grouchy? Gruff? A vision of him as an irritable, demanding boss with no patience for newly barred associates like myself flashes through my mind. I try to steady myself, remembering the cool professionalism I practiced.
I’m not the fragile mess I was when I left my last firm. At least, I don’t want to be.
A deep breath and I’m turning the knob, bracing for my second encounter with the imposing senior partner.
I step inside and freeze, stunned.
He’s not what I expected, or rather, who I expected.
Nothing like any of the older men on my interview panel.
The man seated behind the desk is so physically arresting, so far from what I expected, that for a full three seconds I forget how to breathe.
He’s young, or at least young-adjacent. Mid-thirties, probably.
He remains absorbed in his work, pen moving across the page with deliberate strokes. The furrow between his brows deepens as he reads, completely unbothered by my presence.
Not wanting to break his focus, I take the opportunity to look him over.
This is not David Sterling.
My eyes draw to his imposing figure, which seems to occupy every inch of the large executive chair behind his sleek black marble desk.
As he marks up the documents before him, the pen appears almost delicate in his grasp, dwarfed by his hand.
Despite most of his body being concealed by his tailored charcoal suit, the way his broad shoulders stretch the fabric tells me he’s muscular.
This is a man who clearly takes care of himself.
The realization that I’ve been silently ogling my boss since I entered his office hits me.
I clear my throat.
“I—I’m Avery,” I manage, my voice thin in the expansive room.
At the unfamiliar sound, he finally looks up. His eyes are a cold steel blue. His stare reaches places it shouldn’t, unsettling and exhilarating all at once.
It makes me want to sink into the floor and stand taller at the same time.
He waits, silent, and I think this is my opportunity to redeem this awkward entrance.
I move to his desk, recalibrating.
“Avery Anders. Your new associate attorney. Today’s my first day.”
I extend a shaky hand. It hangs between us as the rest of my rehearsed introduction scatters like ash. I barely manage to keep my composure as the scrutiny of his gaze holds me there, desperate to reclaim my confidence.
Not how I pictured this going at all. But I push the doubt away, eager to impress my new boss.
He stands, towering over me. As he crosses in front of his desk, a look of intrigue comes over his chiseled face. My confidence shrinks. He must be at least a foot taller than me.
Reaching his hand to meet mine, his perfectly tailored sleeve rises just enough for me to catch a glimpse of a heavily tattooed wrist. His grip is firm, and I feel a shiver run down my spine from the heat of his skin on mine.
Words fall away, thoughts fracture. I can’t process anything but his nearness. I’m trying to maintain my composure, the strength of my grip, the quickness of my breath.
And I realize this handshake has lasted longer than feels appropriate at this point.
“Attorney Anders,” he says finally, releasing me. “You’re already taking liberties, calling yourself mine.”
A shockwave of embarrassment pulses through me, and I all but snatch my hand back, clutching it protectively to my side as though I might be able to wring the heat from my skin. My cheeks blaze.
I make the mistake of glancing up and catch the barest hint of a smirk curling at his mouth, though he smooths it away before I can be sure.
Stunned and more than a little confused by his response, I say, “I’m sorry?”
Not so much an apology as it is a request for him to clarify before those words consume my every waking thought the rest of the day.
No such luck.
He smirks, gesturing toward his office door. “Why don’t I give you the grand tour? Introduce you to your team.”
I blink at him, words slow to assemble. “My team?” I echo.
Obviously, I knew I would be on a team when I took this job, but the idea I would be in charge of my own team never crossed my mind.
He turns to me, seemingly annoyed but not totally surprised at my ignorance.
“Yes, the team of legal professionals that will be working under you.” There’s an edge to his voice, half irritation, half resignation. He clears his throat. “Under your guidance.”
I look at him with utter confusion etched on my face, and if I didn’t feel so embarrassingly unprepared, I might even find his clenched jaw and eye roll kind of sexy.
“I didn’t realize I’d be heading a team,” I say, trying to keep my tone steady, professional.
He watches me carefully. “Were you told anything about the position?”
I shake my head.
“And you didn’t think to ask for those details yourself?”
Another shake.
“No,” I say, lowering my eyes to avoid his gaze, breathless from his scrutiny and the knowledge that I deserve it.
I dare a look at him, lost in the moment between regret and the intense need to prove I can make this work.
Feeling my nerves building, I finally speak up. “To be frank with you, Attorney Sterling—“
“James,” he says. “Please call me James.”
I can’t fight the small smile stretching across my lips.
“Well, James,” I say, my voice more confident now. “To be frank, those details were unimportant to me at the time.”
His eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, and I get the feeling that I’ve just said something wrong. I hold my breath.
The tone he takes with me cements that feeling when he asks, “And why is that, Miss Anders?”
Miss Anders. Not Attorney Anders. Something about James calling me “Miss” instead of, at the very least, the title I’ve worked so hard for, makes me feel like a kid that’s being called to the principal’s office. Like I’m out of my depth.
The spiraling thoughts threaten to take me down with them, but I somehow manage to mentally shake myself free.
Cracking a sweet smile in an attempt not to sour our working relationship on the very first day, I say, “Please, call me Avery.”
That little quip earns me an amused chuckle, warm and low, as the corner of his mouth pulls up. I don’t wait for him to say anything before answering his question.
“I had an immediate need to be in an environment that was less distracting, where I could just focus on my work. My career.”
It’s the only explanation I can give him without airing my dirty laundry and making this first impression worse.
The glimmer of curiosity in his eyes tells me he wants to ask me what could have possibly been so distracting at my previous job, but he must understand the pleading in my eyes for him not to question any further.
Instead, he says, “In that case, I’ll give you the rapid-fire version before you meet your team. Just stop me if you have any questions. Otherwise, I’ll assume you understand.”
I nod and say, “Got it.”
He tells me that Bishop, Hollis, & Sterling occupies four levels of this building.
The twelfth floor houses the employee lounge, the thirteenth is where you’ll find the criminal defense department, the fourteenth is our civil litigation department, and the executives are situated on the fifteenth floor.
In our civil department, there are five attorneys, including James and myself.
Each attorney is paired with two paralegals, except for James, who no longer handles his own cases as he is the managing attorney for our department. His role is fully supervisory, and he’s the person I should seek if I need help with anything.
“I’ll do my best not to need you too much,” I say, trying to reassure him that even though I’m new to the practice of law, I’m willing to put in the work to figure things out on my own.
“Needing me is inevitable.” His words bring a blush to my cheeks. “You’re new. Just know that my door is always open. Figuratively, anyway. I keep my door closed most of the time during normal business hours.”
Giving him a puzzled look, I ask, “Do you find yourself here outside of normal business hours often?”
“Sometimes,” he replies.
I can’t help the image that floods my brain of this beautiful man in his office after hours with the lights low, suit jacket off, tie loosened, the sleeves of his button-down shirt rolled up to reveal more of his inked skin, hair no longer perfectly in place because he’s been running his hands through it as he works into the night.
“Is that by choice or because the work is so demanding?”
“Mostly by choice, but sometimes it’s the workload.”
Breathing a small sigh of relief that it’s not always the work that keeps him here late, I linger on the thought that he sometimes chooses to stay late.
He must have sensed my slight concern because he adds, “Don’t worry. Late nights here should be few and far between for you, and probably only when you have a trial. Even then, you’ll only work late when you feel it’s necessary.”
I give him a quick nod and feel my watch vibrate as he says, “Now for that tour…”
“Lead the way,” I say, meeting his eyes.
Following him out his office door, I peek at my watch to read the notification and see it’s a text from Mina.
Mina
How’s your first day going?!
Grabbing my phone from my purse, I shoot a quick reply to her before James starts running through all the attorneys’ offices that line the same side of this floor as his office.
Good. New boss is scary and stupid hot.
Putting my phone away, I look up as we’re rounding the corner at the end of the hall.
“Bathrooms are here. Entrances to the emergency exit stairwells are here, next to the bathroom and on the opposite side of the building by the elevators,” he goes on.
Turning the next corner, I see cubicles lined up and filled with people busy working away. All except for one at the end of the row.
Another vibration from my watch. Another text from Mina.
Mina
Do NOT fuck your boss!
A giggle escapes my lips, and James turns to see what’s so funny. I do my best to cover it by clearing my throat.
“Sorry, had a little tickle in my throat.”
He narrows his eyes slightly before turning back around, saying, “We keep water, coffee, and soda stocked in the employee lounge. If there’s anything you need that we don’t have, let Maddie know and she’ll order it for you.”
“Thanks,” is all I can say after he definitely didn’t buy that cover-up.
When James and I reach the end of the row of cubicles, he pauses to explain that my two paralegals are stationed here. My office is to the left, with their cubicles right outside my door.
At her desk, one paralegal is wrapping up a phone call. She is naturally beautiful and appears younger, possibly in her early twenties. After hanging up the phone, she looks up at James with a wide smile, her full lips revealing perfect teeth.
“Good morning, Attorney Sterling,” she greets him, paying me no attention.
“Morning, Vanessa. Where’s Nash?”
“I’m not sure. He left while I was on a client call. I think he went down to twelve to—“
“Get a coffee for my new—“
I turn to look for the voice coming from behind me.
“…attorney,” he finishes, his eyes flaring as they land on me.