Page 17 of The Stranger
I lean in her direction and skim the tip of my finger down her list of personal attributes. “This is exactly what I would look for in an employee. It makes me wonder if your old boss is giving you a less-than-stellar reference.”
Her plump, gloss-covered lips form a perfect little ‘O’. “I thought that too. I worked hard when I was there and didn’t take a single day off.”
“Never?”
“No.”
I nod my head. “Impressive.”
“I don’t like to let people down if I can help it, but I have to include it on my resume because it’s my only work experience. If I don’t, any future employer will think I’ve been lounging around on the couch for the past four years, watching reruns ofJudge Judyand mooching off my parents.”
I bark out another laugh. This woman amuses me to no end.
“You know you could lodge a complaint with the Fair Work Commission for unfair dismissal.”
“Which Phoebe will more than likely do with you if you fire her. We have sick days for a reason, Mr Prescott.”
I flick my hand. “She’s a temp … I’ll get my lawyer to go over our employment contract, and if it turns out I have no grounds to dismiss her, I’ll move her to the mail room or somewhere equally lacklustre.”
“How kind of you,” she quips, rolling her eyes.
“On a serious note, you really should report him for the unjust way you were treated.”
“I’m already walking on eggshells at home. I’m liable to end up homeless if I rock the boat further. I don’t want to be poor and destitute.”
I’d never let that happen.
I click my tongue, trying to rein in my anger. “Rock the boat? Delilah, you are the victim here … in so many ways.”
She winces. “I’m not a fan of that word. I’ve never been one to play that card.”
I count to ten in my head before growling. “It’s called standing up for yourself … there is a difference.”
“Can we talk about something else? This conversation is giving me a headache.”
“I’ll change the subject on one condition.”
“That being?”
“You come to work for me.”
“Ugh.”
Why do I find that cute little grunt she makes in the back of her throat sexy?
Our trip from the car up to my lawyer’s office is travelled in silence.
When we reach his floor, his receptionist greets us with a pleasant smile. She presses the intercom on her desk. “Mr Prescott has arrived, Mr Cavanagh.”
“Send him in, Rose.”
He stands when we enter his office, rounding his desk to greet us. “Sorry I’m running late,” I apologise, extending my hand.
“Like I said, I’ve booked out the entire morning for you.”
His gaze moves to the petite blonde standing beside me. “This is Delilah St. James,” I say, “Delilah, my lawyer, Logan Cavanagh.”
“The girlfriend, right?” he questions, extending his hand to her.
