Chapter 8
NATHAN
I wait for my colleagues and brothers to leave before storming to the door and slamming it shut to make my point when the last person forgets to close it behind them, muffling the smug laughter of delight from my brothers. They are loving every minute of this awkward situation I find myself in.
Assholes.
Shoving my hands into the pockets of my dress pants, I steady myself before turning back to face my beautiful nightmare.
Why the hell is the woman who spent the night in my bed and ranted about how much she hates lawyers now sitting in my goddamn boardroom like she owns the place?
Acting like she’s my fucking secretary or something.
And why can’t I stop looking at her? I don’t get it.
I don’t want to get it. But damn, she’s beautiful.
“Explain,” I shout, the words ripping out of me far louder than I mean, and I can see her flinch—her face turning a shade of white proving I’ve crossed a line.
I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, not with her.
Arianna replies but she’s so quiet I don’t hear what she says.
“Speak up,” I urge, because she sure as hell didn’t hold back when she was screaming my name the other night.
Crestfallen, she bows her head and shakes it. “I started working here today but as a records clerk.”
“What the fuck are you doing in the boardroom then?” I snap, clenching my fists tight inside my pockets.
“I’m here to take the minutes. I was the only person available.”
I hate that she isn’t looking at me, when all I want is to feel her eyes on me. “Look at me,” I demand.
When her eyes hit mine, she looks terrified, but screw it, she should be because she’s irritated me and whether she likes it or not she’s no longer in my personal space but in my place of business. I never mix the two.
This is Hart territory, and I own this fucking firm.
My laws, my way.
“Did you know who I was the other night?” I ask, irritated with myself for being too captivated by her to see through her honeytrap. She must have.
“Yes,” she replies, sounding stronger, her brows furrowing, as if she’s as confused about our situation as I am. Or maybe she’s regretting what happened between us.
At least she told the truth, but her honesty irks me more than I care to admit.
Was I a premeditated target? I need to know.
“Was it a happy accident that you were in the bar I sometimes drink at on Friday night or was that part of some screwed-up plan to bed the boss?” Something I have always avoided; I don’t make a mess in my own backyard. That’s something my brothers have never agreed with me on.
“Bed the boss?” She screws her face up as if she just licked a thistle, sounding appalled by my accusation.
“I already had the job. Trust me, I do not need to sleep my way into a position, and you were not someone I was expecting to bump into. My job here is to work in records as a clerk and I am guessing you have dozens of staff to run around after you to fetch records, so I was never expecting to see you. I genuinely didn’t think our paths would cross.
Records is in the basement, and you are up here on the top floor.
There was never any possibility of seeing each other again.
And I most definitely would not have come looking for you. ”
In my head I had accepted we were perfect strangers, and now it seems that isn’t the case. If I knew she was here working for me, I would’ve sought her out because since Saturday morning all I’ve wanted to do is see her again. Although I can’t make any sense of why I would want to do that.
She keeps blurting out more words I can’t stand. “Sleeping with you was a mistake, one I’ve regretted ever since. It was a lapse in judgment, and I promise you it won’t happen again.”
It can’t happen. Not now she works for me.
And it was never a mistake.
She’s lying to me and herself.
Working under the same roof as her every day will be a massive fucking problem for me, and my dick.
It’s also going to be difficult to focus given I now know what she tastes like: sweeter than sugar.
And the things she can do with that smartass mouth of hers; it makes my dick hard just thinking about it.
It stings that she feels remorseful about sleeping with me so I’m spiteful when I bite back.
“I’m sorry you made the mistake of falling onto my cock and riding it all night.
” My voice sounds sinister and drips with sarcasm.
“You and I both know it wasn’t a mistake. You wanted me as much as I wanted you.”
Her cheeks fill with color. “I never expected to like you as much as I did.”
She likes me?
“Because you hate lawyers?” I ask.
She closes the laptop then holds it against her chest as if trying to use it to protect herself. “Only some of them.” Her top lip curls up in disgust.
Interesting.
“Who did you work for before you got the records clerk position here?”
“Am I on trial?” She points at her chest.
“It’s a simple question, Arianna.” And yes, she is.
“It’s Ari.”
“I pay your salary; I’ll call you whatever the hell I want.”
“You’re impossible,” she huffs.
Angry has never looked so beautiful.
Stop it; she’s staff.
If she thinks I’m being impossible now just wait until I’m mid trial; that’s when I really do become an impossible fucker. “Who did you work for before you got the position of records clerk here?” I repeat the question, desperate to know why she loathes lawyers so much.
“Williams and Jones.”
That explains everything. Nick Williams is a low-life piece of shit.
A smiling knife to be exact, and he would imprison his own grandmother if it achieved his goals.
Word on the street is he’s helping to grease the wheels of criminal gang activity in the city.
Something we at Hart Law do not tolerate.
I pull my hands out of my pockets, unbutton my suit jacket, and locate my cell from the inside pocket then call Janice, who picks up immediately.
“Talk to me.”
As if she was expecting my call, Janice calmly lists a multitude of reasons why Arianna is a suitable replacement for yet another secretary of mine who decided not to come back because they couldn’t handle the fluctuating workload and overtime.
“Send it over,” I bark down the microphone after Janice suggests I read Arianna’s strong résumé, then I end the call and wait for it to drop into my emails.
Arianna slams the laptop she was holding on to like a lifeboat down on the table. “What are you doing?”
“Due diligence, Arianna,” I reply. “All breakages must be paid for.” I point to the laptop, slightly amused by our encounter. Her salty attitude gives me a thrill, and not one of my secretaries has ever challenged me the way she has.
“This is bullshit.” Her voice is even stronger now. She sounds more like the woman I spent the night kissing and licking every inch of.
She adds, “I didn’t apply for the position to be your secretary.
I don’t care if you think I’m suitable or not, just let me go back to the position I was hired to do.
” She pushes herself to her feet, reminding me that she is much shorter than I am by at least a foot.
“Working under you would be a nightmare.”
I like her. Far too fucking much and she has no idea how much of a nightmare I can be.
I grin wickedly. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I didn’t hear you complaining when you were under me the other night.”
Her mouth drops open in shock before she folds her arms in front of her and taps her right foot against the floor like a cute but disgruntled bunny.
Engaged in a standoff, we share a charged unblinking stare.
“You know I’m right,” I say at the same time the sound of an email whooshing into my inbox breaks our face-off. I hold my pointer finger in the air. “Don’t deny it.”
“You’re intolerable and bossy.” Her tone is cold and disapproving.
“Because I’m the boss.” I’m not being cocky; it’s the truth.
Tapping the email, I open the document named Arianna Donovan Résumé that’s attached, then skim read her credentials. “You’re overqualified for a records clerk,” I state, impressed by her résumé.
“I changed positions because I wanted a less stressful role and a better quality of work-life balance.”
I quickly glance up to catch her right eye twitching like it did back at the bar, and I know she’s lying.
“And a drop in pay?” I ask. That makes no sense.
“It’s not about the money,” she snaps back.
From her address, she lives in a decent neighborhood in the city, the kind of place where many buy their first home. It’s less about survival and more about taking the first steps up the property ladder. She’s ambitious, she just doesn’t know it.
“You completed a law apprenticeship, worked your way up and passed your legal secretary exam first time.” With a ninety-seven percent pass mark. She’s remarkable.
“Yes. I continually study and work my ass off.”
She doesn’t need to tell me that, it’s all here in black and white. I close the résumé and click on the recommendation letter Janice attached from Williams and Jones.
It’s faultless, and I hide my smile when I read the last line of their letter.
If Arianna was a lawyer, I would make her a partner.
“Explain it to me again. Why did you apply for a position at Hart Law that you could do in your sleep?” I slide my cell back inside the concealed pocket of my jacket. “And this time try to sound convincing.” Something isn’t adding up, but I can’t figure out what it is.
“I told you already.” Sounding exasperated, she places her hands on her hips to make her point, the skin on her neck flushing redder by the second.
Slowly, I move toward her and she tracks my every step until we finally come toe to toe.
As I look down at her, she cranes her neck back to meet my six-foot-five height.
Relieved that she doesn’t flinch when I do something completely out of character, I push a lock of her hair behind her ear and get lost in her big, beautiful eyes. “If I find out you are lying to me, I will make you regret ever thinking you could fool me.”
“Okay.” Her reply is softer than I expected but there’s a slight crack in her voice, and when the frown she’s been wearing since I entered the room deepens, I get the feeling that she doesn’t believe me, or she doesn’t believe her own reply.
But then there is a shift in her demeanor, a sort of deviance washing over her as she squares her shoulders, and lifts her chin. “I understand,” she says.
She steps back dropping her arms by her side but I follow her and don’t let her get away and when I move my mouth to the shell of her ear, I whisper, “And I bet you won’t last the week anyway.” I set her a challenge, knowing that it will put fire in her belly.
“You’re wrong about that.” I don’t miss the way her breath hitches in her chest when my lips touch her jaw.
Why do I feel like my chest is going to explode when she’s near?
This isn’t like me.
With my actions on autopilot, I run my nose down hers, because I’m unable to resist touching her. Hiring Arianna is either going to be the best or worst decision I’ve ever made. “I work very long hours,” I state. Everyone knows this. I work harder than anyone, even my brothers.
“Most lawyers do.”
“Which means you will too, and I don’t take breaks.”
“I’ll bring snacks to your desk. And lunch. Dinner too, if you want.”
My previous secretaries have never suggested that. “I take my coffee black with no sugar.” I rest my forehead against hers and cup her face with my hands, something I shouldn’t be doing.
“Noted.” Her eyelashes flutter against my cheek and I imagine it’s what the wings of a butterfly would feel like on my skin: soft and delicate.
“I only take calls between ten and eleven o’clock on the days I’m not in court.”
“Okay.”
“Whatever the records clerk salary we offered you was, I will triple it if you agree to take the position of being my secretary.” If she’s looking for more balance in her life, she won’t find it working for me.
“I accept.”
I knew she would. Work-life balance clearly isn’t her priority. I’ll uncover what really brought her here—and why she stepped down to a lower-grade position.
“Good girl.”
Knowing how my praise affects her, right on cue, she shivers and bites her bottom lip between her teeth.
She places the palm of her hand on my shirt, and her touch has me reconsidering my next admission, although now is the time to set the record straight. My mouth hovers over her tempting pillowy lips. “I don’t date staff.”
A faint “I understand” falls out of her mouth, and her sweet breath dusting my skin makes me want to claim her in the same way I did the other night.
“And that’s why nothing can happen between us again.” My hands drop away from her face, and I immediately regret stepping away from her when I watch her face falling in disappointment.
Believe me, baby, no one’s more frustrated about this than I am.
I smooth down my tie, tighten the knot around my neck and jut my chin. “Welcome to Hart Law, Ms. Donovan,” I say, before abruptly storming out of the boardroom.
“Meeting cancelled,” I announce as I race past my stupid grinning brothers who are standing in the corridor. “Assholes,” I mutter under my breath. “Sorry, everyone.” I apologize to my colleagues, who look confused. “I’ll have my new secretary, Ms. Donovan, reschedule.”
Arianna Donovan.
The woman who has consumed every thought I’ve had since she left my apartment.
Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing to me?
Let’s hope she only lasts the week.
Why is that suddenly not what I want either?