Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
L ila
"Who the hell is Marie?” I mumble to myself as I sit at my desk and try not to look back into Max’s office. I’m supposed to be trying to figure out if Mrs. Whittington is an innocent or guilty party, but all I can think about is the name I had just heard Max mumbling to himself. Is Marie his girlfriend? His ex-girlfriend? A woman he wants to be with? I have no clue, but just the thought of her makes me annoyed.
Why was he sitting at his desk mumbling her name like he was concerned about her?
It really shouldn't matter to me, but I feel annoyed for her and for me, because if she’s someone special in his life, why the hell was he flirting with me so much, and why was he giving me those looks that told me he wanted to rip my clothes off? Why is he making me feel like we’re in a chemistry lab and about to explode together? It doesn’t make sense. I take a deep breath and open my company-issued laptop. I cannot fixate on the Marie issue.
"Hey, Lila, I'm just going to?—"
"Yes," I look up and snap at Max, who raises a single eyebrow.
"So I guess the Stepford wife thing is done already?"
"It wasn't a thing. I was just trying to be the perfect employee for the not-so-perfect boss. But I don't think that you actually deserve me to be perfect."
"Erm, okay…" He looks confused. "Number one, I never said you needed to be perfect. Number two, even when you were doing the Stepford wife thing, you weren't perfect. And number three, what's with the attitude? Two seconds ago you were smiling and laughing, and now?"
"And now nothing, Mr. Spector," I say, glaring at him. "I have work to do, and I think you do as well."
"Yes. I was just going to say that my calls are being forwarded to your desk, so if you could take messages…" He pauses then adds, " Detailed messages, including a name, number, and reason for the call, that would be great."
"Why, of course, Mr. Spector. There's nothing I would like to do more."
"I am sure there are a couple of things you'd like to do more," he says, putting his hands on the desk and leaning toward me. "I mean, I can think of a couple of things I'd like you to do." My eyes widen as he licks his lips. There’s no way he’s flirting with me again, is there? Just after he was mumbling about Marie?
"I know there are a couple of things I'd like to do to you as well," I say, leaning forward, a small smile on my face. I look over his handsome face, then down. "Actually, I think that..."
"Yes?" he says. "Continue…"
"I'd love to…" I lick my lips. "If you stand up straight for me for a second." He shrugs and stands up straight and I looked him directly in the crotch, then I look back in his eyes, which are sparkling, and I'm not sure if he thinks I'm about to tell him I'd love to give him a blowjob, but if he is, he's absolutely crazy.
"Continue, Ms. Haversham," he says.
"I'd love to be able to knee you right there," I say succinctly. "It's always been my dream to kick a guy in the balls." He bursts out laughing then.
"That's not exactly what I expected to hear. And I do hope that you do not try it on me. I would not like to be your first victim."
"Erm, then don't act like a jackass," I say.
"Wow, you really went from zero to 180 in, like, ten seconds. Did I do something and not know about it?"
"No," I say. "And please, let me get back to my research on Mrs. Whittington."
"Okie dokie," he says. "I most likely won't be back for a couple of hours, so feel free to have your lunch break, and I'll see you this afternoon."
"Oh, okay," I say in surprise. "Are you going somewhere that you wish for me to accompany you, or..."
"No," he says. "What I have to do you'll be no help with."
"Thanks a lot," I say.
"I'm not trying to be rude, but this is your second day on the job and you're going to an HR meeting, which you should check with them and see exactly what time that's scheduled for. When you go, just forward the calls to the receptionist."
"Okay, I will." I stare at him for a couple of seconds and he just looks at me.
"So if that's all," he says, clearing his throat. "I'll be off."
"Okay then," I say, watching his back as he heads toward the elevator. He's tall, and his shoulders are broad and wide, and my mind thinks back to his comment from earlier. "Does he really have an eight pack?" I mumble to myself. There's no way. I don't even think eight packs are humanly possible unless you’re a bodybuilder.
And he doesn’t have the body of a bodybuilder. Though, it’s not like I've seen him naked. But I mean, I wouldn't mind seeing him naked, if I’m completely honest with myself. If I’m being completely honest with myself, I can only imagine just how dynamite he is in bed.
I think the reason my mind cannot move away from him is because I haven't been in a real relationship with a guy I find really attractive in a long time. And it's not like Mr. Spector is going to be...that. He would suck as a boyfriend. I have no doubt in my mind that he'd be so self-absorbed and buried in his work that I'd barely see him if we were actually dating.
But I have a feeling that, in bed, he would be the Fourth of July and Halloween all rolled into one. He'd be the bag of sweets and the fireworks.
I sigh as I realized that my mind is in the gutter and it really has no reason to be, because even if I did want to be with him, that doesn’t mean he wants to be with me. I have a feeling he just likes playing with me.
That's what good-looking guys do, they just want to see if they can get you. It doesn’t even mean they actually want you.
My phone beeps then, and I look down and smile. It's a text message from Skye.
" Hey, you girls want to grab lunch? " I realize that she's texted me and Juniper.
Juniper responds immediately.
" I am so in. "
" Me too. " I send back, smiling. I really like them. And I really hope that we grow to be good friends. I was really happy that Skye had received a job offer from Kingston, even though it had shocked me. I hadn't wanted to tell her what I'd overheard him saying to Max about the possibility of hiring her.
It just doesn’t even make sense to me that she got hired. She has about as much experience as I do, which is none. I want to ask her how she'd gotten the job, but a part of me is nervous that maybe she'd lied, and I don’t want to be burdened with her truth just in case HR or Max come to me with questions.
I don’t mind a little white lie every now and then, but I really hate having to lie frequently. And as much as I like Skye, I don’t want to have to lie for her. And I have a teenzie-weenzie suspicion that she hadn't been utterly honest about her qualifications. I’m not sure why I have that feeling, but I can’t shake it.
Maybe it's just my female instinct, but I’m suspicious that a man like Kingston, who had seemed like he wanted someone with a lot of experience, would hire Skye. Almost as suspicious as I am about the reason behind why Max had hired me. It just doesn't make sense, unless they were trying to hire the worst assistants for the jobs. But why would they do that?
I realize that I've been sitting at the desk for thirty minutes already and have done absolutely no work, so I quickly type into Google, "Lucinda Whittington" and wait for the results to show so I can do a deep dive into her life and personality. I’m kinda hoping that I'll find enough information to somehow take down Jack Whittington, that I find something to make Max question taking him on as a client. I’m hoping to impress him.
Because even though I have no interest in being a personal assistant to an attorney for a long amount of time, I want Max to eat his words. I want Max to really believe that I’m a great assistant. I want to leave and make him feel disappointed. I want him to regret every negative word he's said to me, because even though I want to make it as an A-list actress, I also want to be the sort of assistant that people don’t want to let go.
Maybe that’s just my nature. Maybe I’ve just always wanted to be the best. I don’t care that I have no knowledge of the law. I don’t really like being subservient to people. I just know that when I take on a role, I do it to the best of my ability.
"Aha," I say as I bring up Lucinda Whittington's Facebook account. I frown slightly as I see her profile picture. She's dressed in a bikini at the beach. Not the very best sign for someone that I'm trying to prove is innocent and demure, especially because the bikini's a thong bikini and there's a guy slapping her ass who is definitely not her husband.
I bite down on my lower lip. Maybe Mrs. Whittington did cheat on her husband. Maybe Jack does deserve to keep every penny that he’s made. Maybe I'd gotten it wrong. Maybe she isn’t someone who needs my help. But still, I know I’m going to continue looking to see if there is anything else I can do.