Page 30 of Mr. Big Shot

“Watch your damn mouth.”

“You watch your mouth. God, you’re insufferable.”

I start to storm back down the hall, barefoot with my heels in my hands, when he calls out after me. “And next time don’t come to work in a dress like that!”

“What’s that supposed to mean!? The dress is fine. You’re the problem!”

I swear I hear him mutter something before I turn the corner back into my office and plop right back down at my desk. I’m breathing hard—worked up, as per usual in Hudson’s presence—when the elevator dings and everyone trickles back in from dinner. It’s much the same crew from last night, plus a few additional first-year associates, Kendra included.

“Oh god,” she says with an exaggerated eye roll when she sees me at my desk.

“Fuck off, Kendra.”

She rears back, obviously surprised by my outburst. But guess what? You can only poke and poke and poke a bear so many times before the bear bites your freakin’ hand off.

And while I’m not exactly impressed with my behavior—I mean, I won’t be doling out advice on how to conduct yourself in a corporate setting anytime soon—it does succeed in shutting her up. She doesn’t let out another peep while the two of us get to work.

Later, she asks me rather politely (for her, at least) if I have a certain file I can email to her, and after I do it, she mutters a quick, “Thank you.”

A half-hour later, when I go into the break room to scrounge around for a snack (aka candy), I pick up two mini bags of Skittles and toss one on her desk when I walk back into our office.

She doesn’t say anything, but she does tear into the bag straight away.

So there you go. Progress, I guess.

From down the hall, I hear, “Someone come fix my fucking printer!”

And I sit at my desk, smiling my little smile and working my butt off. It’s the happiest I’ve felt all day.

Chapter Ten

Hudson

I’ve been summoned to speak with God this morning.

Anders’ office is ten floors above mine, so high that when I stand at the windows overlooking downtown Chicago, I feel a rush of adrenaline. He has quite the setup, expansive floor-to-ceiling windows covering two of the four walls, more space than he knows what to do with. There are four segregated seating areas inside his office. Why would four different groups of people need to meet in one place together? I don’t care. I love it.

I look down at the pedestrians crossing over the river, caught in the sunshine and going about their day, when Anders begins. “I’m incredibly satisfied with how you’ve handled this KinBio issue.”

I’ll bet he is. I’ve clocked 236 hours in the last three weeks. I’ve had associates working around the clock too. The issue is out of my hands now. As we expected, the FTC ruled against the merger, and KinBio will be seeking the breakup fee Chapman International agreed to in our original contract. Though now, of course, they’re refusing to pay it. I won’t be going to court over it. That’s for our litigators to handle, but I’ve given them everything they should need, and we’ll continue to work closely with them over the coming months. There’s no doubt we’ll get KinBio those millions, and I will be rewarded handsomely as well.

“I understand my daughter helped your team.”

“She did.”

She’s been at the office more than any other first-year associate. I’ve had to kick her out of the building more than once while she grumbled under her breath. God, I love her mouth. I love her feistiness. I shouldn’t be stoking the flames with her. I should be keeping us on the straight and narrow, leading her with dignity—but that’s not my style.

Besides, Anders must know what his daughter is like at this point. I doubt she’s a perfect angel outside the office…

“My daughter seems extremely happy here. I take it you’re going easy on her like I requested?”

Good thing I’m facing the windows so he can’t see my smile. The question should be: is she going easy on me?

“I asked her about work last night at dinner,” he adds. “She said she likes her team and credits a good deal of that to your leadership.”

I turn back. “What about her fellow first-years?”

His forehead wrinkles in confusion. “She didn’t mention them much.”

---