Page 22 of Mr. Big Shot

Then, a few hours later:

Jasper: My parents want to have us over for dinner on Friday.

Oh great. The last thing I want to do after my first week of work is spend my Friday night with Jasper’s parents. Don’t get me wrong, the Beringers are nice, but they’re completely overbearing. Their house is extremely formal, and their idea of a casual dinner at home includes a hired chef and multiple uniformed staff. It’s all for show. They’re no more well off than my own family and yet you’d think they were British aristocracy or something with the way they flaunt their fancy lifestyle.

A casual dinner at my house consists of my mom making appetizers while my dad whips something up on the grill. He loves making steak or hamburgers, and sometimes he’ll grill salmon—my favorite. Barrett and Nyles usually volunteer for dessert duty, and when the weather’s nice, we eat outside on the back patio, barefoot and happy with a few uncorked bottles of wine.

I obviously can’t refuse Jasper, though. We don’t see his parents all that often, and I don’t want to make it difficult for him.

Scarlett: Friday sounds good.

Then I toss my phone aside and open my laptop. I check my email first to confirm if anything has come in from work since I left the office. There’s a new meeting request from Sophie that I add to my calendar, but otherwise, I’m still caught up with everything I wanted to complete today.

With nothing else to do and because I’ve been desperately wanting to do it since I left his office this afternoon, I spend the rest of my night educating myself on Hudson’s pharmaceutical merger. I happened to know the answers to his questions today, but if he invites me in on another phone call tomorrow, I want to be sure I know my stuff.

Chapter Eight

Scarlett

I think, though I can’t be certain, that Kendra has shifted my desk so it’s pressed farther into the corner of the office. I don’t remember hitting my head on this plant yesterday, but now every time I swivel in my chair, the fronds tickle my hair.

After an hour of dealing with it, I groan and shoot to my feet. My first attempt to move my desk is an utter failure. On the second try, I put some real muscle behind it and manage to shift it a few inches, creating a screech so loud every person across the city just winced and covered their ears.

“You mind?” Kendra snaps.

She has her headphones on while she works. She’s not on a call or anything though, so…I ignore her and push my desk another few inches. Better. I’ll no longer have to sit beneath a leafy canopy, at least.

“God you’re insufferable.”

“Me?” I snap, whirling around to face her.

She rolls her eyes.

I cross my arms and stand up tall; suddenly I’m over it. “Did you move my desk?”

“No. I didn’t move your desk.” Her mocking tone makes it clear she thinks I’m nuts.

God, have I lost it? With a heavy sigh, I try for a different tactic. “You know we don’t have to keep doing this. It’s day three—surely you’re starting to get tired.”

“Tired? Of what?” she asks, pretending to be stupid now that I’m actually calling her out on her rude behavior.

I don’t even keep the sarcasm out of my tone when I reply, “What’s your goal exactly? To make me suffer?”

She looks at her computer. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not that different than you. We could be friends, you know.”

Her mouth thins with disgust at the idea. “I’m all tapped out on friends at the moment.”

Fine.

I go around my desk and take my seat. I’m about to refocus my attention on a contract when she speaks up again. Her tone isn’t nasty, but it’s still harsh. “For the record, you are different from me and my friends. Most of us don’t have daddy dearest as a safety net. We have hundreds of thousands in student loans to pay back, a career on the line. We’ve worked to get here.”

My jaw tightens in annoyance. “I earned my place here. Same as you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure.”

“I scored a 169 on my LSAT.”

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