Page 5 of His Good Girl
“Yeah, I'm here, but I didn’t ask for this.”
“I know, but your mother was bending my ear, love. Just go, hmm? You start tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I frown. Tomorrow is Friday.
“Yes, tomorrow. Eight-thirty sharp. Cannon street in the city. You can’t miss it.”
“Eight-thirty?” Most of my temp jobs start at nine. Ugh. This is going from bad to worse. “Look, Uncle Q. I seriously appreciate this, but I’m not ‘founding partner’ material. He probably wants me to do all sorts of things that I can’t. I can do basic admin, file a bit and get coffee, maybe do some payroll if there are like three employees.” This is some high-level admin job he’s put me forward for, and I’m certain I’m not up for it. I know my limitations. My resumé doesn’t lie.
“Logan won’t expect you to do anything fancy, like payroll. Just do what he tells you and be a bit proactive. It’s like any other job you’ve been on.”
His cajoling tone doesn’t convince me.
Chewing the inside of my lip, I deliberate, knowing Ishouldtake it, but I wasn’t looking for a full-time job. This has been thrust at me without any time to think about it.
“Fine,” I huff eventually, knowing I sound like an ungrateful brat. “Thank you for doing this,” I add stiffly to compensate for the mood.
He chuckles again. “Eighty-thirty sharp. Have fun!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
We hang up, and I throw the phone onto my bed. “Well, old friend, I guess I won’t be seeing you as much as we’re both used to.”
I'm warm and cozy, and I don't want to leave the comfort of my bed. Flopping back, I close my eyes, relishing the peace and quiet. Not moving for several minutes, I eventually force myself to get out of bed and face the day. Taking a deep breath, I open the curtains, watching as the rain spills down outside, the morning light gloomy and drab.
Staring out my window, the outskirts of the city stretches out before me, a vast expanse of gray and silver mixed with a bright and colorful blur of life. It looks so different in the rain, the soft drumbeat of droplets against the glass adding a layer of tranquility to the hustle and bustle outside.
The rain is heavy, cascading down onto the street below with a satisfying rhythm, the sound of life being watered into the concrete streets. The occasional car passes by, buses trundling along as they crawl through the wet roads.
Turning away from the window, I stroll through the apartment I've called home for the past few months. It’s not much to look at. It’s in the low-rent, back end of the city, away from the luxurious penthouses by the river, but I’ve made it as comfortable and cozy as I can with its one-bedroom and small bathroom, a sitting area, and an open-plan kitchen. The hallway is short and narrow, leading to the front door, jumbled with coats and shoes, but it's all I need. Deciding to get some breakfast first, I head to the kitchen, determined to do a spot of research before this fancy job tomorrow. I want to know exactly who this Logan Carter guy is, so I can try to figure out who I will be dealing with. Obnoxious, rich, and an asshole who thinks he has a giant dick and does, or an obnoxious, rich asshole who thinks he has a giant dick and doesn’t.
In my limited experience, the one with the giant dick is less of a jerk.
But I guess time will tell.
Chapter4
Logan
Time moves quickly when my head is buried in cases that intrigue me. I don’t have to, but I always take the most difficult, impossible-to-defend cases. It’s a challenge, and I very rarely lose. It’s why my name is prominent in the Corporate Law game. But as 8.30 AM rolls around, I look up with narrowed eyes to see Dolores making her way to her desk, stopping to chat with the other workers just setting up for the day. I put my head back down, madly curious as to what she will do with the mess I’ve left for her. I don’t really give a fuck, to be honest. Allison will have another assistant at my desk by nine, just as Dolores turned up a few months ago when Lucy up and quit on me suddenly to get married and move away. That gutted me. She was the perfect assistant. She knew my quirks, made a killer cup of coffee, and stayed the fuck out of my way. Dolores always asks how I am and expects me to ask back. It’s irritating as fuck.
I peer up, pretending to be absorbed in my work, eyeing her closely through the glass-fronted office. She places her bag on the desk and sits down, reaching out to turn the computer on, and then freezes.
She licks her lips and glances over her shoulder at me. I’m still seemingly immersed in my work, so I pretend not to notice her.
Then she does something unprecedented.
She rises, picks up her bag, and scurries off.
I frown and look up, craning my neck to see her in the distance, stabbing the elevator button impatiently, looking frantically around as she climbs on when everyone else gets off.
“Huh. Well, I didn’t expect a lunchtime quit, and it’s not even lunchtime.”
I lean back in my chair, the back inclining under the weight. Twirling my pen around, I narrow my eyes as Allison comes rushing over.
“What happened?” she barks.
Thankful for her brusque attitude, I sit up straight again and sigh. “You tell me. She ran out of here like her ass was on fire.”
