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I’m dressed in my best suit, bought off the rack at a major retailor fat store. One of the few roommates who was nice had helped me shop for it. She assured me the suit, black with a white shell camisole underneath the jacket, looks good on me. I remember her sighing while saying I had such a pretty face. The words ‘if only you lost weight’ clear enough they could be heard without being said. I’ve heard the words often enough that I simply take them for the compliment they are, ignoring the rest.
With a heart shaped face, high round cheek bones, wide plump lips, and a short pert nose, surrounded by brown hair with natural red and gold highlights, I believe the pretty face comment. However, at only five foot four, it isn’t easy to find clothes that fit someone short and fat. Even though five foot four is supposed to be out of petite, it was too short for average, and all my pants have to be hemmed.
Waiting at a big name coffee shop across from the huge building where Ethan Bishop’s office is housed, I glance at the clock again. I don’t want to be late, even though I’ve been having doubts again about wanting the job—especially when Amelia gave me the interview time as seven in the evening. Sure that I heard her wrong, I asked if I had. No, she assured me, it wasn’t uncommon for Ethan to still be in the office at seven. In fact, he was usually there from eight in the morning until eight in the evening, six days a week. He only took Sunday off because no one else was in the office.
Fifteen minutes before the time I’m due, I head across the street. There is a huge foyer with a long security desk. I give my name, and receive a temporary badge before the woman calls up to the desk of the office to let them know I’m on my way up. I’m directed to the twenty-fifth floor, the elevator for it is on the left. She warns me it’s after six so I need to swipe the badge before the elevator will move. There are six different elevators, two of them only go up to the twelfth floor.
When the elevator opens, the foyer is still brightly lit, everything gleams in light wood and chrome. There is a person at a long reception desk where there are three monitors and two empty chairs beside the man. Even though he’s obviously a receptionist, he is still in a suit that probably cost more than mine. Barely looking my way, he points to the left. “Mr. Bishop’s office is all the way down the hall. His office door will be open, his secretary left thirty minutes ago.”
Slowly making my way down the long hall, I’m surprised to see there are still many people here. Most of the offices on the right are glass fronted, with their doors also in glass. On the left half of the long hallway is an open area of half cubicles, the rest of the hall are offices with glass fronts and doors like those on the right. When I get to the end of the hall, I stop short when I realize how big Ethan Bishop’s office is. Holy crap, my apartment could fit in it. There is a desk to the left that is likely where his secretary sits. The glass door is open, I have all of three seconds to take him in before he looks up.
I’m in deep shit—the man is beyond gorgeous. The pictures of him in the paper haven’t done him justice. His face is all hard lines, a broad forehead, heavily lined above a straight nose, with sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine, not sitting behind a desk. Holy fuck, the suit he’s wearing is crisp, beautifully tailored and far from hiding his body it’s obvious he has the kind of hard, thick muscles you see on an athlete, not a lawyer. Thick inky black hair streaked with silver have my hands itching to run my hands through it. When he looks up, our eyes meet, his black eyes are sharp on me. Yet, he says nothing for what feels like forever.
“Ms. Messina, come in, have a seat.” Sitting back in his chair, his manner is relaxed.
The hair on the back of my neck goes up. After years of growing up with two reserved brothers and a dominating father who ruled his household with an iron fist, I’ve learned the hard way how to read people. I’m not fooled by his relaxed posture, he’s angry. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
Offering my hand for a handshake, I’m proud it’s straight, he stares at me for a moment before giving in, shaking my hand. Now I’m fucked up beyond all recognition. Electricity, sharp and biting, travels from my hand up my spine. Nearly yanking my hand from his, my legs give out as I plop down into the chair. Jaw hard, I take a deep breath and slam the door shut on what just happened. It doesn’t matter if I’m attracted to him, as far as he’s concerned I’m invisible. At my size men like him look through women like me.
“I didn’t have much choice.”
A nod is all I allow myself, biting my tongue.
“Amelia tells me you’re perfect for the job. Tell me, how perfect are you for the job? Did Amelia even tell you all your responsibilities?”
“While she gave me some details, she didn’t tell me everything, no. I met with Cora today. We went over her day, then her week. Perfection, like many things, is in the eye of the beholder. Am I capable of doing everything Cora does? Yes. Cooking, cleaning, running errands, and ensuring your day runs efficiently without any disruption is something I will be able to do.” Picking a spot on his dark blue silk tie, I’m proud my voice is strong. I know I can do this. Basically, the man wanted a wife without having one. From grinding and making his coffee, to going shopping for him, to ordering new suits and shirts, and keeping his home clean. It wouldn’t be difficult. They were all the things I watched my mother do for my father. While his schedule is the one thing that might take some getting used to, I know I can manage it.
“Not my day, my life. Right now, there is a cleaning service that comes in to deep clean the things I viewed as too hard for Cora’s age three times a week. When you start, they stop coming. While technically you’ll have Sunday off, if I call, you answer.”
“When you say jump, I say how high?” No fucking way. I bite my tongue until I taste blood. My eyes go down to my hands in my lap.
“Exactly. Not only are you intelligent, but you have a smart mouth: telling a mother if she hadn’t wanted her daughter to get measles than she should have gotten the immunization. But because she didn’t, now she’s put other children as well as her daughter in danger. Then there was the doctor you worked for, who, when he said you couldn’t have the day off, you told him either he gave you the day off or you were going to report his ass for writing OxyContin scripts to men who looked like drug dealers.
Your last boss is saying you owe him for the suit you ruined by upending his coffee in his lap. But maybe it was a good thing he didn’t drink it, as one of your former colleagues said you were constantly threatening to put a sleep aid in your boss’s coffee. Something about how he might call you fat, but he still grabbed your ass and rubbed his hard tiny penis against your ass.” He’s daring me to refute what he said, only I can’t, so I don’t say anything.
“Interesting, now you don’t have anything to say. Baby sister Amelia is going to be disappointed you couldn’t even make it through the interview.”
This motherfucker. Looking up, I see a smug grin on his face. Since I wasn’t getting the job, the least I can do is tell him what I really think of him. “Baby sister stopped being a baby a long time ago, you need to stop treating her like one. I get you’re protective of her. In the real world, god knows she needs it, but she is a good damned lawyer in her own right. If you are going to play the benevolent older brother by putting her as an associate on cases with you, then let her handle them as you would any other associate, instead of coming in at the end and making her look like she doesn’t know what she’s doing. If you don’t, then very soon Amelia is going to go to another firm, where she’s treated like anyone else, not a baby. When that happens, it won’t be long before the resentment will set in on both sides.
“You might be rich, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat people as if they are less than you. She said you were an asshole, I think she’s being kind. I might not have graduated from Harvard, but someone with even a below average IQ could do what you need them to do. Refusing five people your sister picked for you shows you’re just being a toddler having a temper tantrum. What the fuck ever, get over it, that’s life.” I get up to leave.
“Sit.” One word, but holy shit, the violence contained in it makes ice run down my spine. My legs give out on me.
“Explain about Amelia leaving—now.”
“Basically, what I said. She has considered leaving and going to another firm where she’s not the baby sister to anyone. You have four times named her as your associate on cases, had her do all the work, and then twice you didn’t even have her go to the client meeting. Once, you had her sit out a deposition when any other associate would have been there. Her complaint is you treat her like your personal paralegal.” My throat is so tight my words are almost a whisper.
He’s shaking his head, opening his mouth as if to defend himself, only to cover his hand with his mouth. It’s obvious he had no idea Amelia felt the way she did, and the idea of her leaving is upsetting. “When was the last time she said anything about leaving?”
“The last time she got really upset was almost three months ago. An athlete contract negotiation, Singer, I think.”
Closing his eyes, he shakes his head. “I wasn’t trying to make you apologize for what you said. I wanted you to own it. I appreciate a straight talker, someone not afraid to say what they’re thinking, exactly when they’re thinking it. I’m not a mind reader, and I don’t play games. If I’ve upset you, say it right then and tell me why. I don’t promise it won’t happen again, but at least I’ll know what the hell is going on. I’ll see you tomorrow at six o’clock in the morning.”
I’m dismissed, with the job. Before he changes his mind, I speed walk my ass from the room.