Page 4 of Ruined By the Enemy
I look up to see Raff standing by the door, one hand on his hip. His hair is beach blonde today, and he looks like a model fromthe cover of a swimsuit magazine, rather than the Director of More Media, the entertainment subsidiary of Moretti Group.
“Nothing,” I say dryly. “What brings you here?”
“Sophie Greco,” he says. “Smart, beautiful lawyer who dropped the Blackwater Talent right into our lap. I was supposed to do the introductions,” he adds apologetically before I can point it out, “but I was dealing with some backlog.”
Unimpressed, I shake my head, and he settles on the leather chair she vacated moments ago.
I can still picture her in my head—the slicked-back bun, brown blazer, and dark green pants. Her outfit was dull, if not dreadful. It should’ve made her look unappealingin every sense,but weirdly enough, it seemed to have the opposite effect.
It felt like she was hiding something; if I pushed the right buttons, she’d come alive like a firecracker.
Much like the muted red on her mouth and the way it seemed to take a life of its own every time they parted for her to speak. It matched her auburn hair, with little streaks of red hidden behind the layer of glossy brown —and beneath it all, those sharp green eyes that didn’t miss a thing.
She wasbeautiful.
That’s not the point, though. “How did you come across her?” I ask Raff.
He shrugs. “She got in touch with me. I was in a meeting with some people from another agency, and she sent an email. We met for coffee the next day, and her pitch was hard to resist.”
“She graduated from Harvard,” I state. “Top of her class. She was a junior partner at a law firm two years ago.”
“Okay?” he drags.
“Why would she contact you when she could’ve used her intel for something else? Why would she want a job here when she had more?” My tone is biting because something is going on.
I know there is… But I can’t, for the life of me, put my finger on it.
Raff strokes his chin. “That’s an interesting take. Maybe—” he snaps his fingers, “maybe she didn’t like her job? You might find it hard to believe, since you’re not personally likable, but we get a ton of applications every year.”
My brows furrow, and he raises his hand. “It’s not an insult. It’s just your personality. And,” he raises a finger, “I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. Unless you’re saying that you don’t want her here?”
The image of Sophie, standing behind the chair, her chin raised slightly in defiance, slips into my head.
“You need someone they can relateto.”She sounded more confident than anything else, and I was a bit surprised. My plan was to find a slip, but she held her own until she left.
“No.” I shake my head. “She’ll be useful.”
Raff smiles. “I knew you’d say so. You wouldn’t have given her the job just to take it back. And I need someone like that in More Media.”
“You’ll have to find someone else.”
His jaw drops. “Someone else? She brought the deal to More Media. She’s a corporate lawyer. I say we need her more than you do. You have a team working for you already.”
He’s right. More Media is the company’s smallest subsidiary, and it’s still gaining ground, which is why we were looking into buying other entertainment agencies.
And I could—I could give Sophie to Raff for the sake of the Moretti Group as a whole.
But the nagging feeling I have, that she’s hiding something, is more than just an itch. “She can handle whatever cases you have, but I need her here.”
Raff leans in abruptly, his brows knitting curiously. His arms are folded under his chest, and his face is inches from mine.
“Why do I feel there’s something you’re not telling me? And don’t say it’s because she’s invaluable,” he adds before I can respond. “We both know nobody is invaluable to you. So,” he clicks his tongue, “spill.”
How do I explain what I don’t know?
My instincts? Do I tell him that the color of her lipstick didn’t match her drab clothing, and when she stood up to me, I felt a slight charge run through my chest?
That I watched her walk out of my office, inexplicably drawn by something other than her proposal?
