Page 40 of Billion Dollar Dispute

Turning, I spot her in her office clothes. Confident, ruthless Jemima is back. I can’t help but feel a little disappointed. This one doesn’t give me many passes.

“Good morning,” I greet, holding out the tray with three chai lattes.

Her eyes lift to mine, then the coffee. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Lighten up, buttercup, it’s just coffee.”

“Stop calling me buttercup.”

“How about boss lady?” I sit in the chair opposite her. Molly's phone rings in the background.

Grabbing a cup, I slide it to her, watching her teeth grind together.

“Neither. Ms. Recaredo.”

“Oh, the formal term. Got it.” I wink.

I swear I can see steam leaving her ears. Taking a sip of the sweet drink, I watch her over the cup, noticing the determination in her eyes.

Whatever we shared yesterday is gone.

“What are you working on?” I ask, scanning the cluttered desk before me. There are papers thrown about in disarray.

She exhales as she looks over her messy desk.

“The real question is what am I not working on…” she mumbles, her voice trailing off.

“How can you see anything with this mess?” I gesture toward the chaos.

“They’re in piles,” she retorts, as if it’s obvious.

I could show her how to file, but it would be a waste of time today. We have too much to tackle. “Give me one task, and I’ll do that while you do a different one,” I offer, eager to get involved.

She rubs her forehead and then scans her “piles.”

“What do you think you’re good at?” she asks.

I pinch my lips together to stifle a laugh. “Give me your hardest,” I say, ready to take whatever challenge she gives me.

Her eyes widen, but she shakes her head.

I sip my chai and wait. There’s a faint shadow under her eyes that wasn’t there yesterday, and I can’t help but notice how tired she looks. The sight opens up a pit in my gut; I shouldn’t be worrying about this woman.

“The upcoming events are better for Danny,” she finally decides.

“Hand me his pile. I'll give it to him.” I rise from my chair and hold out my hand.

Her shoulders drop in relief, as she hadn’t thought about it, and I carry the pile to his office with purpose. As I enter, I catch him browsing social media, and I can’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Working hard, I see.”

He clicks out of the page and sits back in his chair.

“Clearly, you need more to do.” My tone is laced with impatience.

“You know I’m Jemima's family friend.”

“I understand, but she needs to turn this business around; otherwise, you won't have a job.”

I lower the pile of papers onto the desk.

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