Page 5 of Play the Game
“Is it nonsense, or do you have something to hide?”
I scoff, ignoring the way his words have alarm bells ringing in my head, hip-checking him out of the way when he makes a move towards the espresso machine, then ignoring the little zap of electricity I feel at that tiny contact. I set down my mug and shove a pod into the machine before he has a chance to get there, tossing him my most menacing glare. “I was here first.”
Cooper holds up both of his hands, mug dangling from the fingers of his right, and takes a step back. “By all means, Rhodes. Since it seems like you slept in the office last night, I think you probably need this coffee more than I do.”
I roll my eyes because of course I slept at home just…not for very long. Grabbing my mug and taking a sip, I just barely resist the urge to wince as the bitter liquid burns my throat. I think longingly of the pumpkin spice creamer stocked in my refrigerator at home, and for one second, I let myself wish I hadn’t been quite so determined when I was a first year associate to cultivate the image of a badass bitch lawyer who drinks black coffee. Black coffee is so gross. “Someone has to do the work around here. We can’t all be lucky enough to leave the office so early on a Tuesday night.”
Cooper lets out what sounds like a barely restrained growl and shoves his mug under the espresso machine, jabbing at the button. I open my mouth to tell him he forgot to put in a pod, but then I slam it shut. It’ll be more fun to watch him figure it out on his own. He puts his hands on his hips and turns his back to the espresso machine, entirely missing the fact that it’s currently spitting what looks like dirty water into his mug.
“I was here until after ten and you damn well know it. You could have left too, but you chose not to for reasons passing understanding. None of the partners were here that late, and we’re not on any kind of deadline for once. No one would have known whether you stayed or left.”
That’s exactly why I stayed, but he doesn’t have to know that. I just shrug, taking a tiny sip of my terrible-tasting coffee. “It’s called dedication, Cooper. Associates who want to make partner have it in spades. I don’t know what that says about you.”
Casting his eyes up at the ceiling like he’s praying for patience, he grabs his mug without looking at it and takes a sip, immediately spluttering and all but spitting the liquid right back out. “What the fuck?” he mutters.
I smirk at him. “It helps if you put a pod in the machine.”
He glares at me, eyes blazing, and opens his mouth to say something I’m sure is going to be the next shot in this little game we play, but we’re interrupted before he can get a word out.
“Ah, Cooper, Evangeline. Just the people I wanted to see.” Austin Maguire, head of the IP group and managing partner of the Boston office of Maguire Brown strolls into the kitchen looking like he just walked off a golf course even though it’s barely seven in the morning in October. “I’m glad to see everyone is getting an early start today.”
I smile sweetly because if there’s one thing that a female associate is expected to do, it’ssmile. And I bite back the reminder that I prefer to be called Evan because that’s fallen on deaf ears for years. Reminding him again today isn’t going to change that. “Sure am. I got in early to put the finishing touches on the discovery log.”
In my periphery, I see Cooper scowl, just like I figured he would. “I was going to do the discovery log today.”
I turn my smile on him but sharpen its edge. “And now you won’t have to.”
“Good work, Evangeline, I was hoping someone would have it done this morning. Opposing counsel has been emailing me all night asking when he can expect it.”
I nod, like I’ve been expecting this development even though we told them to expect it by next week at the earliest, and I haven’t so much as looked at it, much less finished it up. Good thing I work fast. I consider my response, knowing that opposing counsel is basically an aged frat guy who never gets into the office before ten. “I can email it over to him by nine.”
Austin shakes his head, letting out a condescendingtsk. “Now Evangeline, you know I like to review anything going to opposing counsel before an associate sends it. Have it on my desk by eight.”
I just barely resist the urge to scream. I’m starting my seventh damn year as a litigation associate and am perfectly capable of sending something as simple as a discovery log without a partner having to review it. But I’m a female seventh year associate, and Austin Maguire is king of the misogynists. The man who would never dare review the work of a male seventh year associate.
But evidently my lady brain is just too preoccupied with pink things and periods to law properly.
I hate this man so fucking much. And I hate even more that he gets a say in whether I make partner or not. There’s a reason associate classes at this firm have a fifty-fifty gender divide, but women only make up eighteen percent of the partnership, and that reason is standing right here in front of me in a three-thousand-dollar suit with a pocket square.
A pocket square, Jesus Christ.
Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see Cooper surreptitiously roll his eyes as if to say,Can you believe this guy?But that can’t possibly be right. My brain must still be scrambled from not enough sleep, my early morning writing session, and nowhere near enough caffeine.
Metaphorically gritting my teeth, I will myself not to let my smile drop. “No problem, Austin. Consider it done.”
He pats me on the shoulder, and my skin practically crawls at the contact. “I knew I could count on you.” Turning on his heels, he strolls down the hall in the direction of his corner office, and I take a deep breath, reminding myself that Cooper is standing right here so I can’t lose my shit yet.
“You should have just let me do the discovery log like I said I would and saved yourself the trouble.”
I spin around, glaring daggers at the hot, irritating asshole whose sex noises play on repeat in my damn dreams. Fuck my life a third time. “Go to hell, Cooper,” I spit out, storming out of the kitchen.
“I’m already there,” I hear him mutter, as I flounce down the hallway in a flood of righteous indignation. The misery in his voice has regret for my sharp words curdling in my stomach, but I shove it away as I close my office door with an extremely unsatisfying click when what I really want is a loud, hard slam.
Good thing I work best just a little angry.
CHAPTER TWO
COOPER
