Page 109 of Dirty Rich Cinderella Story

I text Cole the update. He doesn’t reply, but I don’t expect him to. Not in his meeting. I get busy finding a temporary secretary and I do phone interviews this time. By noon, I find someone I might just like, and have her lined up to try the job tomorrow. My cell phone rings and it’s Cat. “Hey,” I say. “How’s the book?”

“It’s turned in and my editor loves it.”

“I told you. That’s great news.”

“I heard you’re back in town,” she says.

“We got back late last night.”

“How was it?”

“Interesting. Crazy. I learned so much.”

“Your voice has excitement in it,” she says. “I love it. So, when are we having coffee?”

“We’re not, because you just want to find out what is going on with a certain person.”

“I do. You’re right. Put me out of my misery and tell me now.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“You just said enough. I was right. You couldn’t fight it.”

“I can’t do this here.”

“Then let’s have coffee. Tomorrow morning?”

“I need to get my footing here first. Let me call you later in the week.”

“You better.”

“I will,” I promise, disconnecting the line just as Cole appears in my doorway.

“Maria ordered us lunch. We have a case. I need you in my office.” That’s it. He disappears.

I stand up and hurry to follow him, relieved that he’s left me behind. That’s what a boss does. I think. I don’t know. It feels appropriate. “I have the food,” Maria calls out from behind me.

I turn and meet her a few steps away, taking the bags she’s holding. “Thank you. I have a temp coming in tomorrow to help Cole so you aren’t stuck with this stuff.”

“Oh good, I hope that person works out. Remind Cole that his team is still doing overflow work. They’re his. He’s just going to have to trust them to do the work.”

“I’ll definitely remind him.”

I head to his office and enter, food in hand, to find him on the phone. “Don’t be a pussy,” he growls. “Tell your client that he doesn’t run up a marker with a casino and expect not to pay. That’s a good way to end up six feet under. Then tell him to get a security guard, not a law firm. He’s going to need one.” He hangs up. “Jesus,” he growls, standing up and walking to the door to shut it. “I hate wet behind the ears attorneys with no balls.” He sits down in front of me. “And who runs up a marker with a casino and doesn’t pay?”

“My father,” I say, before I can stop myself.

“Holy fuck. You’re kidding me?”

“Forget I said anything.” I reach for the takeout bags.

He moves them out of reach. “Talk to me.”

“I’ve handled it. I was just remembering why I’m so pissed at my father. That call brought it back.”

“I need the name of the casino and the details.”

“You will not pay my bill.”

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