Page 11 of My Bossy Billionaire Attorney

“Alright. But who is she? What’s her name? Which department does she work in?”

“She’s a paralegal,” he replies. “Her name is Savannah Richmond.”

What the—hell?

I clear my throat. “Savannah Richmond. Huh.”

“Have you met her?” He asks.

“No, I don’t think so. I barely have time to get together with you. But I’ll keep the name in mind in case I run into her.”

“You might, sooner than later. She’s a damn good researcher, although she’ll never believe it if it comes from me.”

Sure.

“But you two are different, I assume. Personality wise?”

“Yes, we are. Very much so.”

Of course. They would be as different as the two sides of a coin. Peter is the kind of person you’d want to hang around because he’s witty and smart and always has something interesting to talk about, while Savannah…seems angry and abrasive. The opposite of easygoing.

She’s manipulative and gets in your head. One minute, I’m seated behind my desk, and the next I’m losing my temper. One minute, I’m walking into a conference room, and the next I’m in a silent war, and I end up doing what she thinks I can’t do. Ugh! She infuriating.

Some twisted form of reverse psychology.

I frown as the last thought echoes in my head.

“Was that what she was doing?”

“What?”

I shake my head. “No. Nothing. Just a thought.”

Was she playing a trick on me? Damn it, Savannah.

I kick my leg forward to express my frustration, but the tip of my shoe touches something soft.

What is that? I frown and swing my foot again, and the same thing happens. Am I imagining it, or is there something under my desk?

“I don’t need an office by the window, though,” Peter says.

“Why?” I ask. “You talked about it the last time we met, and I said if you handled the Humberger case and reached a settlement, you’d get it in addition to being named partner.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, I know.”

Out of habit, I swing my legs again, and this time, both feet come in contact with something again. Curious and a little paranoid, I quickly look under the desk. I see the outline of something that startles me.

“Is there anything wrong?” Peter asks.

I shake my head. “No.”

In case I’m just seeing things, it’s best to keep what I think I’ve seento myself. I don’t need anyone thinking I’m losing my marbles.

“There’s a new case on the table,” I say, getting up and heading to my bookshelf. I pull out a document file, “it’s right up your alley.”

“You’ll meet with the client—he’s a little hard to deal with and requires special attention—and let me know how it goes after you meet with him,” I say, handing him the file.

“If a little hard to handle is the only problem, then I think I’ll be fine,” he says.

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