Page 33 of Dirty Rich Cinderella Story

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Cole

I enter the recently expanded offices of Summer & Brooks, the official new name of the firm. The receptionist, Julia, a thirty-something blonde with a pixie cut is on the phone, but glances up from behind her mahogany desk and gives me a big smile. By the time that I’ve crossed through the seating area lined with high back chairs and stepped in front of her, Reese has sniffed me out.

“Finally, he arrives,” he bellows, offering me his hand, which I accept. “And so, it begins,” he says.

“And so, it begins,” I say. “We’re really doing this.”

“We already did it,” he says, motioning to the wall behind Julia and the imprinted logo that reads “Summer & Brooks, Attorneys at Law.”

“It should have been Brooks & Summer,” I say, “alphabetical and all.”

“I was in New York first,” he says. “And this is the new corporate office.”

“In other words, the wall in Houston should say Brooks & Summer, since I was there first.”

“Whoever gets the first win under the new company,” he says, “gets the first name spot.”

“The first million into the firm,” I counter.

“I can live with that,” Reese concedes, “but nothing that was on the books before today counts.”

“Keep the name,” I say. “But the bet’s on. Loser buys the winner a ridiculously expensive bottle of scotch. I’ll pick the bottle when I win.”

Reese laughs. “I can live with that.” He motions me forward. “I’ll see you to your new office.”

“Because it’s right next to your office,” I joke.

“Too damn close,” he replies. “I tried to change that, by the way,” he says. We start walking down a long hallway just past the reception area. “The construction team couldn’t make it happen,” he says. “Not without putting you in a closet and that would have looked bad to clients.” His phone buzzes with a text and he glances at it, a shift to business slipping into place. “We have that scholarship placement starting today,” he informs me. “She just made it to HR.”

“Right,” I say. “The one from Stanford that you know personally.”

“That’s her,” he says. “I setup the staff that will be working in your core team in the conference room at nine. The partner meeting is at ten. I want to give you a heads up on a couple of things in advance.”

We enter the double glass doors that are the entrance to the newly built executive offices with Reese’s corner office on the right and mine on the left. I wave to his secretary, Maria, who is Hispanic, forty-ish, and always brimming with attitude; she greets me in with a wave and a smile.

Reese and I head toward my office, and despite the wide berth between our doors that allows cubicles and offices between us, Maria murmurs something muffled in Spanish that’s said a little too loudly. Something to the effect of Reese and I both being fine-ass men. I laugh right along with Reese, who softly says, “She doesn’t know I speak Spanish.”

“I want popcorn and a good seat when she finds out,” I say, entering my window-lined corner office, and considering I haven’t seen it since it was sheetrock and construction, I pause for a minute just to take it in. Décor compliments of Ashley, the sitting area is done in black leather to the right. A conference table to the left.

“You’re unfortunately going to have to make your team meeting a quick one,” Reese says, as I cross to sit behind my new, shiny mahogany executive desk that appears to have no drawers. “I have to be done with the partners meeting no later than noon because I need to be back in court at two, which is why I want to circle back to our new intern again.”

“She’s the one you said was Cat’s research assistant, right?”

“Yes, and that made getting her on our team, when everyone else wanted her, tricky. She’s prideful. She doesn’t want charity or to feel like she’s gotten a handout. Her first instinct was the reason I wanted to hire her as a favor.”

“Was it?” I ask.

“Hell no,” he says. “I’ve let her sit in on some of my team sessions and she’s good. Really damn good, which is why it pains me to say that I think, based on the personal relationship she has with myself, and even more so, my wife, she needs to be yours. But if you get her, you get what comes with her. That means you take on her educational program requirements.” He indicates a file on the desk. “That has the details of what you’re required to do. She’s worth it, man. She’s a future star.”

“What’s her name?”

“Lori Havens.”

I go still. I’m not sure I can breathe but the puzzle begins to come together. “And she works at your apartment with Cat?”

“Daily,” he says. “Why?”

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