Page 7 of The Lawyer
She needs to be.
Chapter Four
WILLOW
It’s been nearly a week in the office, and nothing has caused me to fret about work. Not yet, anyway. Nina isn’t helping. I’m shadowing rather than doing anything past scheduling and making the coffee. Although the coffee comes with a list of instructions. His particular brand, no milk, but a small jug of milk for him to pour. Nobody can make his coffee to his exact specification. I mean, who the hell is this guy? And every time I try to do anything remotely efficient, she steps in and takes over. At this rate, I won’t know all of the duties I’m supposed to be doing when she does leave.
Maybe it’s a control thing. Or Mr Broderick’s nature has rubbed off on her. Each time I’ve been in the office with him, his frown seems to be etched deeper into his brow. And past our first introduction—if you can call it that—he’s given me nothing more than a casual glance, his eyes washing past me towards his intended target. It would be less infuriating if he wasn’t so handsome.
This morning I’ve been more productive than the rest of the week combined, but that’s partly because Nina is out of the office at a midwife appointment. Thank God she felt me capable of holding down the fort in her absence. I mean, she did hire me for this job. If she’d just let me get on and do it.
She forwarded the brief set out by Mr Broderick late last night to identify and source several potential properties for him to view. He set out his budget, which was obscene, and the distance from the office, and that’s about all. The rest is up to Nina, or now, me.
I got into the office early to work on the apartment options. It would have been nice to discuss them with Mr Broderick himself, but he isn’t in the office in time for our morning briefing.
I look around at the empty space, looking for inspiration to strike in the way of interior design or preference, but there’s nothing unique or original in the place. He’s like a closed book. And no matter that the man is always impeccably dressed in the whole fifty shades of dark attire and brooding, I have no idea what he’d want in an apartment.
Settling back at my desk with a mug of coffee, I scan through the listings from the firm Nina recommended. Perusing the floor plans and gallery layouts for some exclusive properties, all in postcodes I could only dream about living in, is quite fun. As I have no idea what Mr Broderick will like, I pick a range of options based on the sales info. Of course, I can’t help but imagine what I’d choose for myself if I won the lottery all of a sudden: open-plan rooms, sleek kitchen, big windows with lots of light. There’s one that would be perfect—if I was choosing. And because there’s nothing to stop me, I add it to the list.
Two hours later, I have a shortlist of three to view.
Protocol at Broderick Media is that all executives, especially the CEO, have a car to take them to any appointments, so I book that and confirm the destination addresses. I send Mr Broderick an email with the links to all the properties and add the schedule to his calendar, making sure I copy my emails to Nina. She might have an opinion, but right now, I don’t care. It’s done.
“Hello, Miss Anders, yes, this is Willow Etherington from Broderick Media. I just wanted to confirm the appointment times I’ve emailed.” There’s no chance I’ll go to all this trouble and find we can’t view the places.
“Yes, yes, it’s all fine. I’ll see you at two at the Albert property.”
“See you then.” I can’t keep the smile from my face. A day out of the office, and it will be me getting to accompany Mr Broderick. Surely, he can’t ignore me for the whole afternoon?
For the rest of the morning, I go over the schedule and list of files and reports I need to pull and ensure the minutes are all ready from the executive meetings in his schedule for Monday.
By half twelve, I’ve had no confirmation that Mr Broderick is even in his office or received the appointments, so I knock on the door and wait. With no answer, I push down on the handle and enter.
He’s sequestered behind his desk, with a stack of files around him. Even with my entrance, he doesn’t stop.
“Where’s Nina?” His focus remains on the paperwork in front of him.
“Nina is out today at a midwife appointment.”
“And that’s going to take all day?”
“I’m not sure, Sir, but she’s not in today.” I wait for him to say anything further, but he doesn’t. Just as I turn to go back, I stop, and regardless of the warning from Nina, I run down what I’d say to any other boss. “The car is booked for one-thirty. I’ve emailed the schedule. If there’s anything you’d rather not visit, then I’m happy to keep searching and rearrange.” And for good measure, “can I get you anything else?”
“No.”
“Very well. I’ll see you at one-thirty.” I leave as calmly as my legs will allow, even though I’m ready to scream at him. As soon as the door is closed behind me, I do a little stomp on the spot. How can he be such an arsehole? He shouldn’t intimidate me, but I can’t help that he does. His indifference and minimal use of words are unnerving me. I’ve never worked for someone who is so … taciturn.
As the appointments will likely last the rest of the day, I close down my computer and grab my tablet and the folder with the property details. A message pings on my phone, and I see that the car is waiting outside. My first instinct is to tell Mr Broderick the car is waiting and accompany him downstairs. But maybe he doesn’t need me to walk him to the car?
I pace outside of our offices, sure I’ll be able to catch him if he comes out of his, but the time continues to pass and no sign. Rolling my eyes, I march to his door, knock and enter. But he’s not behind his desk.
“Shit.”
I scurry to the lift and curse we’re so high up.
After what feels like an eternity, I reach the lobby, and I dash, heels be damned, across to the waiting car at the curb. My feet slow to a brisk walk as I arrive at the door, held open by the chauffeur.
With a tiny dip, I nod my head and then climb into the back.
