Chapter 4
“There has to be someone else I can work for,” I pleaded again, wincing at the whining tone my voice had taken.
This was it. This was the most embarrassing thing I had ever had to do in my career thus far, even considering what came before this incident.
Demeaning jokes about women who practiced law.
Hours researching basic case law for idiots who didn’t understand stare decisis.
Days spent preparing trial witnesses and exhibits only to be told the case had been dismissed a week earlier, based off a motion I drafted, and the lawyer forgot to tell me.
Taking the blame in court so the lawyer didn’t look incompetent in front of a judge.
Always being mistaken for the secretary or assistant instead of a crucial member of the executive legal team and someone who had a bachelor’s degree in both criminal justice and pre-law.
All paled in comparison to this moment right here and now.
This was my all-time low, and far more degrading.
“I don’t understand you.” Mrs. Lakeson peered at me over her black plastic-rimmed bifocals. Her lips pursed in disapproval, but her eyes told me this meeting wasn’t entirely unexpected.
When I came in early this morning, I went straight to her office.
She was the direct supervisor of all the support staff. Some of the upper management referred to her as the schoolmarm, partly because she handled all the paralegals and first-year assistant DAs but mostly because she favored a 1950s-inspired aesthetic, often wearing her hair in victory curls paired with cat-eye glasses and suits that had a more retro feel.
I wished I could pull off her chic, vintage-inspired style as gracefully as she did. She looked like the office version of a pin-up or that chick from Mad Men that all the other characters lusted after but were still a little afraid of.
Her look was everything I wanted but could never quite replicate, especially with cheap, thrift store clothes.
“What’s to understand?” I asked. “It’s simple. I’m not sure I will be able to fulfill the tasks that Mr. Astrid will require of a paralegal, and I’m sure there is someone more suited to his… needs.”
I left the “like a paralegal willing to fuck her way to the middle” part silent.
I wasn’t about to get in trouble for slandering the district attorney.
Though technically, since it was true, it wasn’t slander, but I wasn’t going to show my evidence to prove my point.
What was I going to say? “I broke into his private office, got naked, and he almost made me come?”
I was smart enough to know that wouldn’t play out well.
I would be fired and blackballed in legal circles all around the city.
My dream of going to law school and passing the bar with distinction would mean nothing if a prominent district attorney was trashing my reputation to anyone who would listen.
He could easily say he caught me rifling through his desk or computer, and I would do time. My entire career would be ruined in a moment. No, it was best to handle this discreetly and pray he forgot about it.
“Ms. Carmichael, there is no one else available. I have already reassigned another paralegal to your previous post. I know Mr. Astrid can be somewhat… difficult.”
She rubbed her eyes.
With a narrowed gaze, I scrutinized her.
Perhaps last night wasn’t just an embarrassing misunderstanding?
Perhaps this sort of thing had happened before with our esteemed leader.
Lord knew he wouldn’t be the first politician or lawyer to abuse his position, and he definitely wouldn’t be the first trust fund baby to take advantage of women, knowing his family’s money would bail him out of trouble.
But how dumb did a man have to be to try those kinds of stunts in a post #MeToo world?
However, it wasn’t like Mr. Astrid had the same issues as the criminal that sparked the #MeToo movement. He wouldn’t have to harass the women in his office to get laid. He didn’t have to threaten careers, or flash his money around, or commit other criminal acts. And although I hadn’t seen it, from the bulge in his pants, I was certain that, unlike that other guy’s allegedly shriveled dick, Mr. Astrid’s was hard, firm, and big.
No, if Mr. Astrid wanted some female attention, all he would have to do was crook his finger, and women would come running for those dark blue eyes, broad shoulders, and the intense stare that made a girl want to fall to her knees before him.
And wasn’t that exactly what had happened last night?
He’d crooked his finger, and I’d almost lost my mind.
The filthy way he talked and the domineering way he treated me when he thought I was a sex worker was an unexpected turn-on. Who knew humiliation kink from a Dom would be my thing? It wasn’t like I had a lot of experience with men and certainly not with anyone of Mr. Astrid’s power and wealth.
Still, it was technically harassment.
Then again, it wasn’t like sexual harassment was about sex.
It was about power.
He had it—and I didn’t.
“Mrs. Lakeson, it’s not just that the work is difficult. It’s that I do not believe we are able to work together.”
“Ms. Carmichael, I am going to level with you. No one works well with Mr. Astrid. He is a workaholic pain in my ass who demands the people around him constantly produce at the same level he does. He once had an ADA let go for asking to be at his first son’s birth. To be fair, Mr. Astrid was not the right person to ask, and his timing was unfortunate, but still.” She shrugged.
“I understand that, but?—”
“No, I don’t think you do. Even if someone manages to hit the speed and intensity he works at and maintains the level of excellence he demands, it is impossible to maintain. Every paralegal I have sent him ends up leaving the field entirely.”
The last few even left the city.
“I did not want to give you this assignment. Partly because, while you are good, you’re still very green. But mostly because I like you and don’t want to watch the will to live fade from your pretty green eyes.”
“Then how did I end up on his desk?”
I was so confused. Mrs. Lakeson assigned all the paralegals. If she didn’t want me working for Mr. Astrid, then I shouldn’t have been assigned to him. I should have been on some mid-level lawyer’s desk where I could learn, get my paycheck, and earn a stellar recommendation letter for law school.
“He requested you by name,” she said.
I froze.
He requested me by name, which meant he knew who I was last night when he found me in his bathroom.
I moved my purse in front of my body, needing to put something between me and the world. “How does he know who I am?”
“Sorry, not by name.” She waved her hand in the air as if to brush off her mistake while she took a sip of her coffee, leaving a bright red lip print on the white porcelain.
With the delicate teacup holding her coffee in one hand, she typed away with the other. I was always amazed by how fast she could type one-handed with her long red nails.
Not quite feeling relieved, I said again, “I don’t understand.”
“Okay, here is the e-mail he sent.” She pushed her monitor around so I could read it.
The e-mail was quick and to the point. There was no time wasted on pleasantries.
Mrs. Lakeson,
The Manellie Brothers’ RICO case last month was an utter shit show. There was no way they should have walked. I want the lawyer who handled it under review. He is either dirty or incompetent. Either way, he does not belong here. However, his information, the precedents cited, and the research done were immaculate. Had a lawyer with a spine had that information, the case would have had an entirely different outcome, and the city would have been a better place for it.
I want that paralegal assigned to my desk. Immediately. Make it happen.
-Astrid
I re-read the e-mail four times before Mrs. Lakeson turned her monitor back to face her.
“His words are so sweet, it almost makes you want to print the e-mail and frame it,” Mrs. Lakeson said.
She was being sarcastic, but I kind of did want to frame it. The things he said had my mind spinning.
He hadn’t requested me by name, nor because he liked the way my ass looked in a skirt, nor because he was hoping to use his position to get into my pants. He had requested me because he valued my work, even if it had been misused in the trial.
He didn’t blame me for the verdict, like the prosecutor on the case had.
Mr. Astrid saw through the posturing and bullshit and knew the work I did was excellent and on point, just poorly executed by the attorney.
“Ms. Carmichael. Eddie. I don’t need to explain that working for the DA is going to be a massive boon to your career. Not only will it look fantastic on your law school applications, but when you pass the bar, you will have your pick of the top law firms in the country. If you can manage to suffer through Astrid’s impossible standards, it will make your career before it’s really begun.”
“I…”
What could I possibly say to that? She was dangling the brightest future possible in front of my face. It would make every sacrifice worth it.
“This job can be the lynchpin that gets you into Columbia or NYU Law, and it can lead to some scholarships and grants. I am assuming the reason you needed to defer was the cost of tuition?”
I nodded absentmindedly.
“So you will stay on his desk. Unless there is another reason I should look at transferring you?”
My cheeks burned as I took a deep breath. “No, of course not. I haven’t even officially met him yet. I will suffer through and make this work.”
Strictly speaking it wasn’t a lie. There was nothing official about our meeting last night.
“I’m glad to hear it.” She gave me a bright smile. “Look, his secretary is going on vacation, so you will probably be pulling double duty soon. I will make sure that is noted in your file.”
I gave her a grateful smile. Mrs. Lakeson always knew how to make you feel like she was on your side, not out of pity or charity but because she knew that was how to get the best effort and work product from her staff.
“Any tips to make my life easier before I return to my desk?”
“Yes, don’t ever be late. And if you quit, there is a support group for other people he drove off. It meets every Wednesday afternoon at East Twenty-Ninth and Lex.”
I laughed, thinking she was making a joke.
The look she gave me told me she was dead serious.
“You’re going to be late if you don’t move now.”
“Thank you for your guidance,” I tossed over my shoulder as I raced to the elevator, needing to head two floors up.
After pressing the button several times, I gave up and shoved at the stairway door. Despite my heels, I hoofed it up the two flights to my new desk.
What I needed was a positive outlook.
He must not have known who I was last night.
The paralegals whispered all the time about gossip they’d heard from some of their friends about men in the firms they worked at having their girlfriends in their offices after hours. I never thought anything of it. It wasn’t my business, and I was usually elbow-deep in old case files looking for precedents.
The personal lives of lawyers around town didn’t concern me, but maybe I should have paid more attention.
As I struggled to catch my breath after the stairs, I raised my chin and marched to my desk. It was a legitimate mistake that got way out of hand. That was all. Best forgotten and never mentioned.
He thought I was someone else, I reasoned.
He only knew me by my work, not by name or appearance, which if you thought about it, was extremely flattering. Most women would kill for the validation of being judged only for the quality of their work and not their looks.
And as any opposing counsel would argue, I had been half naked in his bathroom when he found me. So there was that to contend with.
It wasn’t right for him to jump to the conclusion that I was a freaking escort, but strictly speaking, that was more of a hop than a jump under the circumstances. Also, I really shouldn’t have been in his bathroom. I should have found somewhere to change outside of the office.
Mistakes were made on both sides.
Mrs. Lakeson was right. If I could make this work, then it would do wonderful things for my future career. It wasn’t like I would be working closely with Mr. Astrid. He would work in his office, I at my desk and the law library. If we were both working late, I would stay in the library.
I decided it was best to disregard everything that happened, never mention it, never think about it at work.
I would wait until I got home to fantasize about it.
To think about the way he made me feel dainty, trapped between his body and the wall. The way it made him seem even bigger, more imposing, and how part of me liked it. I could indulge in fantasies of him doing the things he threatened me with.
Then I could touch myself, trying to remember how it felt to have him touch me. Pretending I knew what it would feel like when he used more than just his fingers.
When I was home, safe in my bed, my secret cloaked in darkness under the covers, I could let my mind roam to those forbidden thoughts, but only then.
In the light of the nine-to-five workday, only the most professional thoughts about this man would be allowed to cross my mind. I would be the poster girl for professional conduct.
I finally made it to my desk. Shoving my purse in the bottom drawer, I opened my computer.
There was an e-mail from Mrs. Lakeson letting me know if something else happened and I couldn’t deal with the assignment, she would do what she could to reassign me within the DA’s office, but there were no promises.
I sent her an e-mail thanking her for her time and telling her I would do my best to make this post work for as long as I could.
If I couldn’t make this work, then I had no business being in a law office.
I pulled up the case that had been assigned to me last night.
With steady determination, I dove into the file in front of me, intent on making a much better second impression.
From this point forward, our relationship would be strictly professional.