Page 80 of Miss Understood

Hitting the down button on the elevator feels a lot like descending to rock bottom. But I know it’s not. Because if this was rock bottom, I’d feel some kind of relief when I hit the lobby, and there’s none to be had.

“You must be Ms. Stevens.” Big green eyes stare back at me, wide and full of fear. It’s clearly her first day. Either that, or she is perma-terrified, and I don’t have the patience to deal with that.

“I am.”

Her bright red hair frames her face. The color is bold and natural, and it stands out against her pale skin and freckles. She’s pretty in a way that you don’t see much of anymore. And sweet. The kind of girl men would easily look at as prey.

“Penny,” she says, shooting her hand out between us. “Your new assistant. Er, just your assistant, I guess, because it’s your first day here, so there’s no way that I’m new, I’m just your first one. Or your first one here. Oh, gee, I guess you do come from somewhere else, so you probably did have an old assistant—”

“Penny.” I cut her off, and her doe eyes look up at me frantically. “Breathe.”

Not so many months ago, I would have called Human Resources and told them to start looking for someone else. I could deal with a lot of things, but soft was not one of them. And that’s the impression Penny gives me: she’s soft.

But, looking her in the eyes, I don’t want to shut her down for her vulnerability. Because I know how that feels, to be new, a fresh wound. Wading into too-deep waters without a life raft.

Penny might be frantic, but underneath what other people might read as hysterical energy is fierce excitement, and that can become so much more with the right guidance.

“I’m so sorry; I’m nervous,” she says in an exhausted breath.

I nod and meet her eyes. “Don’t apologize.”

It catches her off guard, and I watch as she works through my words. She’s a woman; she was probably taught to always be sorry. To always be sweet. To bow down to those above her and mind her tongue.

And I’m not having it.

“Penny, I have three rules if you’re going to work with me,” I tell her, walking toward my new office without slowing my pace. Her footsteps quickly chase behind, her breath anxious.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“First.” I spin and hold up a finger. “Don’t call me ma’am.”

“Yes, ma—I mean, Ms. Stevens.”

I nod in approval. Girl catches on quick, even if she is a puppy who needs to be taught.

You were a puppy once.

The thought comes into my head so fast that my whole childhood flashes before me. Memories of my mother and her love. How she made me feel safe. How when she died, I was officially in a man’s world, not just because of my dad and brothers, but because that’s what the world was. I was underestimated at every turn.

“Second.” I hold up two fingers, and she presses her large pink lips together. “Don’t apologize, although I feel like we might have already covered that one. Know your shit and own it. If you can’t, then get out of the way, because people who can are going to run you the fuck over.”

Penny nods, wide-eyed. She swallows hard, and her whole throat bobs with it, but she doesn’t shy away. Her whole demeanor strengthens, and I feel a responsibility to help her hold it.

She’s young.

Too young to know better, with her wrinkle-free face and hush of innocence. But she’s old enough that if she doesn’t learn now, it will mean the end of her in this business.

“And the third?” she asks, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and gnawing on it. There’s an innocence in everything she does, reminding me that she’s the kind of girl I never got the chance to be.

“Pursue without hesitation,” I tell her, slapping my purse onto my desk. It makes her jump.

She walks up with confusion on her face. “Pursue what?”

“Everything,” I say flatly. “What you want, what you need. Don’t let someone else’s decisions and dreams define you. Figure it out for yourself, and go after it with no limits and no apologies. You are the only one who can make it happen.”

Penny is inspecting me with a pinched expression. This is all way too much before a cup of coffee.

“That’s all,” I say to her.