Counterfeit Connection

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Kaitlyn

I’d love to find the misogynistic asshole who invented stilettos and punch him in his stupid face. Only a man would invent something that makes our legs and asses look this good, but makes our feet feel like they are on fire after only a few hours of wear.

Naturally, I’m stuck standing during this meeting because we are, conveniently, one chair short, and being the people pleaser I am—plus the new kid on the block—I offered to stand… in three-inch high heels.

Which brings me back to my original point. Punching someone in the face. I’m focused on my feet instead of what’s going on in the room until I hear a very pivotal sentence. “Kaitlyn, will you be able to take the deposition?”

Here is my chance. This is the moment I’ve waited for. I was so excited to get a promotion to prepare this case. I thought it would mean I would see more action or even finally get a seat at the table in front of a judge. My degree should call for it. What it turned out to be is more work, even longer hours than I was working before, and still waiting on that seat. I’ve learned to keep two extra sets of clothing at the office, along with a toiletry bag, to use the showers in the gym on the sixth floor.

I stand up a bit straighter and nod. “Absolutely.” I can feel every set of eyes lingering on me. I have to make the conscious effort not to fidget under their scrutiny. I’m confident everywhere but in this setting.

“Excellent. I knew you’d be helpful with this litigation, as well as being a bit of eye candy.”

My skin crawls every time he makes a comment like this, and what’s worse is it’s in a room full of my colleagues. No one stands up for me. It seems to either be allowed or everyone is so stunned, or used to it, that it’s allowed and commonplace. And the worst part of all? He’s my boss. Duncan Wilder. The Wilder of Wilder, Hawkings, and Grant.

I don’t respond, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of a smile either, like I’m just chalking it up to an off-the-cuff remark that can be taken all in good fun. I’ve been conditioned to think it's the path of least resistance. God, my family would not only hate this for me, but be extremely disappointed at my silence.

“Well.” He claps his hands together. “That’s all we have for now.”

I can’t get out of this room fast enough. My office is on the other side of the ninth floor from where we are now. I say hello or smile to anyone who passes by me on the trek that’s only putting more calluses on my calluses. I’m still the daughter my parents raised. It’s not their fault my boss is a complete and utter asshole. I think it’s the unspoken truth we all know.

Once inside my office, I close the door quietly. This place is my sanctuary. I’ve done everything I can to make it feel like home, since it seems like it is more nights than my apartment. The sun is finally not reflecting off the building across the street so I can open my blinds to let more natural light in. My vitamin D deficiency thanks me and so do my plants.

I never thought I’d be living in New York City, but when I got the offer to graduate into a position I felt I was more than qualified for, and the jump in pay to boot, I took the chance. I don’t regret it, at least not all of the time.

I miss Virginia more than I thought I would. I miss my father, who’s still there on our family hobby farm. I miss being able to go out to the barn and brush my horse, Rocket, or curl up on the floor in front of the fireplace with Winston, Dad’s golden retriever. I miss my sister in Boston. I know I don’t have to worry about her as much with her husband, Jason, at her side. I miss seeing my new nephew as often as I want, but thankfully planes, trains, automobiles, and video chats exist. I try to visit all of them any chance I get, which hasn’t been as often as I’d like, or need, as of late.

I plop down to sit at my desk, slipping my feet from my shoes and nearly moaning at the relief. I take a brief moment of silence to check my phone and find a text from my sister, Gillian.

Gillian: Thank God it’s Friday, am I right? I love weekends.

I smile and type out a response.

Me: You have no idea, but I just took a new assignment, so I’m not sure I can relate to these weekends you speak of.

Gillian: Kait, you promised you wouldn’t work yourself to death.

Me: I’m not. I’m just paying my dues.

Gillian: Dues? You’re not some entry level assistant anymore. You shouldn’t have to pay dues. You earned this position.

Me: I appreciate your support, and your big sister instincts, but this is just how it is for now. Plus, I’m picking up a double at Elliot’s tomorrow and the brunch rush on Sunday. It’s just a busy time for me.

Gillian: Remind me again why you choose to work two jobs?

Me: Easy. Student loan debt and living in New York City is expensive.

Gillian: Kait, Jason and I could send you some money and you know Dad would. You have a lot of that money he and Mom set aside.

Me: No. That money is for a house when I get that far. I chose my way into this and I can get myself out of it. Remember what Dad always says when things are hard….

Gillian: This is just temporary. The light is just around the corner. Just make sure you have a bulb or two on reserve so you don’t burn out. Promise me you’ll take even just a couple hours and do something for yourself?

I want to promise her I will. I just don’t know if I can.

Gillian: Helllooooooo? I’m waiting. Jason is standing, reading over my shoulder, and he’s about two seconds from packing us all up and coming to sort you out.

Shit. That’s all I need is my stubborn Brit brother-in-law barking his affection to get me to do what I know to be right.

Me: Yes, Gilly. I promise I will.

Gillian: This isn’t just a promise to stop bugging you, right? It’s an actual Logan promise?

Fuck…she went there.

Me: No, bossy. It’s an actual promise.

When Gillian said thank God it’s Friday, she wasn’t kidding. Even my normal rituals couldn’t save me from interactions I’d rather not have. I share an assistant with three other attorneys around me. We all have very different personalities, but work well as a unit and Mika is a big part of that.

Mika and I are going over edits on a brief I’ve been slaving over for weeks when there is a knock at my nearly closed door. I can tell by the force of the knock who is on the other side. Mika and I lock eyes. She gives me a silent “you’ve got this” before I respond. “Come in.”

Duncan Wilder pushes open the door, filling the frame with his large presence. He’s great at his job. There’s no denying it, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t make me uncomfortable sometimes.

“Are we having a party in here?” he asks with a small smirk that gets under my skin immediately.

“No, sir,” I respond, rising from my seat as I’ve been programmed to do. “We’re working on a brief. I wanted to get it finished before the weekend.”

“Not planning on working tonight or tomorrow? That won’t look good for going to your next level. I’m disappointed, Kaitlyn.”

I’ve always loved my name. The only time I don’t is when he says it. “I’ve put in extra hours already this week, including over the lunch hours, so I feel I’ve given maximum effort while still allowing myself a balance. That’s important to me.”

What’s even more important than that is the distance I can get from him. This client we’re working with brings a lot of business into the firm. When I started all my research, I was so excited at the thought of being asked to help the team. Now, I’m getting a feeling it was given as a way to get closer to me, sizing me up in more ways than one.

“Now, there’s no need to get belligerent or overly emotional.” He crosses his arms over his chest. What an asshole. “I’m simply saying you need to be willing to sacrifice in order to make it in this field.”

“I apologize if it seems any other way than making the sacrifices, as you’ve said. I’ve put in extra hours already this week, including over the lunch hours, so I feel I’ve given maximum effort while still allowing myself a balance,” I repeat my last response verbatim so nothing can be skewed or taken out of context.

Mika is standing between us, looking back and forth as each of us is speaking. I can tell she not only is feeling the vibe Mr. Wilder is putting out there, but will not leave my side as the protector she’s become. “Kait, remember you asked me to remind you when it was three so you were on time to meet with Martin before the end of the day? You’ve got five minutes and he’s three floors up.”

Martin. My sweet ex, who when he decided we were better off as friends took a weight off me because I was feeling the same. He’s still someone I look to for comfort, guidance, and in this case, shelter from the creepy crawlies.

“Ah, yes,” Mr. Wilder says. “Wouldn’t want to keep Martin waiting.” He reaches down to unbutton his suit jacket, watching me all the while. “I expect a full rundown of everything you’ve been working on in my email first thing Monday morning. Better yet, have Kristine block an hour on my calendar.”

“I understand,” I say simply.

“Good day, ladies.”

Once we’re alone and the door closes behind him, I plop back down in my chair and groan in frustration, anger, and annoyance.

“I don’t know how you put up with it,” Mika says. “I’ve managed to avoid the direct path of…” She waves her hand toward the door. “Whatever that is.”

“I have to believe he’s only a little weird and creepy and nothing will progress beyond what it is now. This case could be a positive stepping stone in my career. I need it.”

“Girl, don’t sell out. Be an Elle Woods, not a mouse. Punch his stupid face if he crosses the line.”

I can feel my eyes grow wider than I think they’ve ever been. I’m shocked, but also break into fits of laughter. “Who did you just turn into? I’ve never heard you talk like that before.”

“I think I’m just over him picking at you. I see what Martin is talking about now.”

“Martin. Shit. I’m going to have to take off these instruments of death on my feet and run up there now.”

As I pull my shoes from my feet and dash out the door, I hear Mika calling after me, “I’ll reward you with a cherry cola and dark chocolate when you get back. My treat.”

“I think I just fell in love with you!” I call back to her and bolt out the door and up to my meeting with Martin.