3. Savannah
Chapter 3
Savannah
S aint, my ass.
Everyone seems to see Michael Stone as the perfect boss. The lawyer who became a senior partner at the age of thirty. Helping to quickly grow it into a multi-million-dollar firm.
They fall for his looks, his charisma—his billion-dollar smile. Even his arrogance is charming.
Whereas I—who has seen the other side—I know the truth. I know that Michael Stone is cold and unfeeling and probably has a lot of skeletons in his walk-in closet, surrounded by his thousand-dollar suits.
I shake my head.
“Arrogant, egoistical—” I say under my breath, “phony. Hypocritical.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, cutting through my thoughts and responding to Clarissa, another paralegal who I share a large office space with.
“Are you sure?” She repeats. “You’ve been muttering under your breath since you walked in, and the look on your face is a bit scary. Did something happen with one of the lawyers?”
“Maybe with Julius? I know he doesn’t know how to read the room sometimes, but he’s a good guy underneath it all—" she continues.
“Julius isn’t the problem,” I cut in.
I’d take working with Julius—even though he likes to go on and on—over a twenty-minute sit down with Michael Stone. Which is what happened and is the reason why I’m in a foul mood.
It is the second meeting I’ve had with him, and every time Michael walks in, I remember the scene in his office.
I’m not saying I did nothing wrong. I accused him of being someone else because I was livid, frustrated, and tired. I know. And I would have apologized had he not said I deserve someone like Brandon.
That I deserve that cheating bastard!
“I bet you nagged him…”
I thought about punching him square in the jaw while he spoke, and the image in my head gave me so much relief that it was the only reason why I held my tongue.
Only to find out that he’s a senior partner of the firm. The firm I only came to because my father kept going on and on about how it was the best firm in the city and if I wanted to get somewhere in my career why shouldn’t I aim for the best.
It was always about being the best and that is why he pushed me into marrying Brandon, because he was a lawyer with a promising future.
Promising my ass, I snicker. The only thing that asshole ever did is to sleep with every woman that flashes a smile his way.
“See?” Clarrissa cuts through my thoughts again. “You’re doing that thing again.”
I turn to her sharply. “What thing?”
“The thing where your face is all scrunched up, and you’re saying words under your breath like it’s a spell to kill someone.”
If I could, I would. And I would have done it a long time ago to Peter, my stepbrother. But I can’t think about that right now.
“I’m fine, Clarissa. Don’t worry about me. How’s the review coming?”
She sighs. “Slow. I wish I were as good as you. I’d charm the socks off the feet of everyone I meet.”
I make a face of disgust. “That’s a lot of feet, and I bet most of them stink.”
Clarissa laughs.
“You’re right. They might be sweaty and hot…but you know,” her eyes turn dreamy, “I wouldn’t mind charming the socks off Michael Stone. If he asked me to remove them with my…teeth, I would. Gladly.”
Ugh. Great.
I feel sick to my stomach again.
“Yeah. Can we not talk about him in that way?
“Oh, sorry,” she turns pink with embarrassment. “I know I shouldn’t say the things that pop into my head, but sometimes I don’t have a filter.”
I wave my hand. “It’s okay. I’d just rather not hear it while my work is breathing down my neck.”
A lie to make her feel better.
“Can I help you?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ll handle it. I just need more time.”
“Okay.”
There’s silence for a couple of minutes while I try to put Michael out of my mind and get some work done. Barely seconds after I succeed, Clarissa makes a squealing noise.
“What?”
“The list of attorneys who just made partner is out.”
“Oh.”
Why is she excited?
“There’s someone I’ve been rooting for,” she whispers. “And I hope he made partner this time. I’ll send the list to you in case you want to check it.”
Before I can refuse, I hear the ping of my email. I stare at the notification for a full minute before giving in to curiosity. My eyes fly over names I don’t recognize, and I’m about to stop when a name catches my attention.
I stop, scroll up a bit, and then I see.
First name and last name.
Partner.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“What the hell?”
“Is something the—
“No!” I say sharply, cutting her off. Realizing that I had just transferred aggression, I soften my expression. “I’m sorry, Clarissa. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just…something happened that I did not expect, but don’t worry because I’m fine.”
“I’m okay,” I repeat.
She nods slowly. “Alright. I believe you.”
I lied.
I’m not okay. I’m livid. I’m so pissed that I could punch a wall right now.
I’m so angry that a lump is sitting in my throat and making it hard for me to breathe.
My eyes go back to the name that made me stop in shock.
Peter Richmond. My stepbrother and the person my father and his mother adore. My stepbrother, who they doted on when my father married his mother. Peter Richmond, who was good at everything and could do no wrong, while I had to struggle to earn the simplest of praises from either of them.
Peter has been made partner at the firm, and I’m…I’m a paralegal. I laugh mirthlessly. How comical.
“Peter Richmond,” Clarissa says aloud. “Isn’t he the lawyer Michael talked about promoting two months ago?”
My head whips in her direction so fast I strain my neck.
“He did?”
“Yeah. He did. Mr. Stone and Mr. Richmond are pretty close. Everyone knows they were friends before Mr. Richmond started working at the firm. But…you look pale? Is anything the matter?”
“Wait,” her eyes narrow, “do you know him? You have the same last name, right? Richmond?”
I quickly shake my head. “I don’t. I was only curious because…well, I have to familiarize myself with the top lawyers here. I don’t want to get on the wrong side of anyone.”
Clarissa waves her hand. “Nonsense. I don’t think anyone can have a problem with you. You’re one of our best researchers, and you’re nice to everyone. Well as long as they don’t get on your bad side.”
“Which rarely happens,” she kindly adds. “So, you’re good to go. But if you want me to tell you about the people you should watch out for, I can do that. I can tell you about Peter Richmond, too.”
No way.
“It’s fine. Thank you. I’m sure I’ll get to know everyone soon enough.”
If what she has to say about Peter is what everyone else has been saying for the past decade—that he’s smart and charismatic and good at everything he does—then she might end up seeing the ugly side of me, after all.
“I know you will. And you’ll be prepared, too,” she winks and returns to her phone.
I suck in a deep breath.
Michael Stone and Peter Richmond. When my stepbrother first came with his mom to live with us, I tried to like him. He was three years older than me, so I thought I was lucky to have a big brother.
It didn’t take long until it was obvious that he was good at everything. He worked hard in school and would come home eager to help out. Doing tasks nobody asked him to do .
Of course, my father took offense to it. He couldn’t understand why his stepson, would be better at housework than me. So, I had to double the effort I put in to avoid falling behind. I was three years younger, and I was competing with Peter for my father’s love and respect.
Not once did Peter notice that his actions made my life hell. And then, when he finally went away to college, he suddenly tried to act like he cared.
Even though he became a bit of a playboy, partying and hanging out with friends, my father did not care, as long as he brought home good grades. At some point, I began suspecting he did not get the grades from working hard.
It couldn’t have been his effort alone—with the kind of life he lived. So, I told my father what I thought, and he told me that I was half the student Peter was and that I should learn to be more like him.
As though I was nobody.
And now, Michael Stone. I knew he was hypocritical from the start and probably would have said worse things if I hadn’t stood my ground in his office that day. But knowing that he’s friends with Peter?
That places him high on the scale of terrible people I never want to encounter again .
And perhaps, if his relationship with Peter was all I knew about, I might have let it slide. But I have a bone to pick when someone acts one way in private and another in public, especially to me.
What was it that he said?
If I don’t perform well, I’ll get fired at the end of the month.
I push my chair back and get up.
“Where are you headed?”
“I’ll be back,” I say.
“Oh. Okay.”
I end up in front of Michael’s office, but Brenda, his secretary, is nowhere to be found.
Huh.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I walk to Michael’s door, putting my ear against it to listen for any movement. I hear nothing, but the door is thick, so I place my hand on the handle.
Surprisingly, it gives way. My heart begins to pound as I push the door open. After a quick check to see that nobody is coming, I enter and close the door.
Michael’s office looks like a picture from the cover of Business Weekly. With high-end furniture comprising of a large desk made from luxurious wood and a comfortable, state-of-the-art ergonomic chair.
A bookshelf to the left, filled with books with gold embossed lettering and unbruised spines. I walk behind the desk, looking down at the impressive view from so high. The backdrop of a bustling city with buildings of different architecture is mesmerizing.
I sigh.
This is the type of office that Peter will be working in soon.
While I share one with another colleague.
“He doesn’t deserve it,” I mutter under my breath. “I could have gone to law school, but he was already at the best one, doing well. And my father didn’t bother to be kind when I told him about my plans.”
In his words, if I wasn’t going to get accepted into the best law schools in the country, then I might as well not go. When I decided not to apply and became a paralegal instead, he said he’d pegged me from the start.
Incapable of reaching great heights.
I turn away from the window when I hear footsteps. Panic ensues when the footsteps draw closer, and I look around frantically for a place to hide.
The only place that I find is under Michael’s large desk. Without thinking twice, I dive under it, giving me seconds to spare before the door opens.