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  Her eyes were the size of the cinnamon buns in the bakery down the street.

  By the time I started for the door, most of the room had cleared. She fell into step next to me. “Are you worried about all that stuff? It did sound like a state of emergency.”

  “Everything’s an emergency. Printer toner gets two bucks more expensive. Someone forgets to refill the stash of coffee filters in the kitchen. Walgreens runs out of that hair wax the associates like.” I paused at her cubicle, leaning over the top and ignoring the flow of traffic behind us. “You want staying power? You become a cat, New Girl. I have nine lives. Arrogant dicks come and go. What stays the same is me, because I’m a survivor.

  “Alliance might look like any other bank. But it has its own culture and subculture, a set of rules that aren't written in any book. Like high school. Or Wentworth. If Redpath is anything like Hollister, he won’t bother to learn anyone’s name. Next are the VPs. They’re almost as AWOL. The men who really run the ship are the directors. And I mean the ‘men.’ Of the twelve directors, two are chicks. Of the ten left, most of them are dicks. Yes, that includes your boss—who’s my boss’s uncle.”

  “Thanks for the orientation,” she said, blinking.

  “Sure. And hey. No matter what they say to you? Keep your chin up.”

  I’d been trying to tip the balance in this place, but I was starting to think it might take more than my working life to make a dent in the ceiling.

  (Not including the leaky skylight. Squish, squish.)

  I left Rose at her desk and walked the perimeter of the hive, the set of a dozenish cubicles that took up the open space on our floor. A few people glanced up and nodded to me.

  I picked up my mail at the mailbox in the corner of the office. A bunch of inter-office memos.

  Plus a pale blue envelope.

  My heart stopped as I stared at the delicate paper. I didn’t need to open it or look at the return address to know what it was.

  I blew out a long breath, willing my stomach to settle.

  I’ll deal with this later.

  When I rounded the corner of my cubicle, my chair was already occupied.

  Long, muscled legs extended in front of him. His hands were clasped loosely at his front. Hard, cold eyes glinted like diamonds out of a razor-sharp face.

  Avery Banks might be built like an athlete, but if I learned he played a team sport, I’d die of shock. He’s the Yoko of our entire office.

  “This seat taken? Don’t let me interrupt.”

  “Don’t even think about walking away.”

  I set the stack of mail on the desk in front of him.

  He rose, stepping closer to tower over me even in my heels. The sharp expression on his face was different from the one he’d had in the conference room because it was leveled at me. The look of disdain was for my benefit alone.

  “You were late for this department’s first interaction with our new CEO.”

  “I made it in time for your remarks. Which was my top priority.”

  The sincere-o-meter in my head lit up like Boston Harbor on the Fourth of July, but a muscle in his right-angle jaw ticked.

  “Avery.” Both our heads snapped around as Redpath approached.

  My boss straightened automatically. “Sir.”

  “I enjoyed our meeting. Wish I could’ve stayed. Look forward to seeing your progress and continuing to talk about that opportunity at your performance review next month.”

  “Of course.”

  Redpath smiled, nodding to Avery and me before turning to leave.

  “Why are you staring at my nose?” Avery demanded when Redpath had gone.

  “I thought there was something on it...” I couldn’t resist reaching toward Avery’s face, but he swatted my finger out of the air.

  The noise in his throat was more of a growl than a word. “My office. Now.”

  I liked the growl, I decided as I followed him toward his office, my four-inch heels letting me keep up.

  I pulled the door shut after me and watched him cross to his chair.

  Here’s the thing. As much as Avery and I get along like red wine and Tide-to-Go? Working for this man didn’t one hundred percent suck.

  Avery Banks was the hottest piece of ass to ever walk the halls of this hundred-year-old building.

  But he was also not entirely without positive attributes. He went after what he wanted, even if he did it in the wrong way. When you talked to him, his attention was so intense, like he wanted to soak up every word and every scrap of body language from your conversation that might help him. Plus his mind worked at light speed. It wasn’t always clear what it was working on, but you could tell it was working on something.

  Still, he might as well have had “not my type” tattooed over every inch of his muscled body. If there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it was condescension. No—narrow mindedness. Or maybe a painfully lacking sense of humor.

  If it wasn’t for The Tie, I’d have written him off entirely.

  The purple one that was more like lavender. It shouldn’t have looked good on a man, but it made him look like a prince. When he kept his mouth shut for more than two seconds, I started to imagine he was misunderstood, not an asshole.

  The Tie nearly always came with the grey suit. Together, it was a cannon to the lady parts.

  Thank God I’d never seen him in black tie. Avery in a tux might have made me melt from hotness overload. But I’d run out of the room first, because damn if I’d ever give him the satisfaction.

  He wasn’t wearing The Tie today. This one was coral, which still gave him serious style points. It also made his eyes look wicked blue.

  “Do you know why you’re here?”

  His voice jolted me back to the present. I bit my lip. “Trying to decide what to get Redpath for his birthday? I hear he loves Castle and long walks on the beach.”

  Avery’s eyes flashed. “This is not about Redpath. It’s about you.”

  He steepled his hands in front of him.

  “I know what you’ve been doing, Charlotte. And you are in a shit ton of trouble.”

  3

  Dirty Things in the Guest Bathroom

  “Elvis.”

  Avery said the word under his breath, but it reverberated in my brain.

  I cleared my throat. “Elvis?”

  My boss shifted over his desk, braced on his arms like a predator cornering its prey. Avery’s office was big enough to fit a desk, couch and chair, and a coffee table, but it suddenly felt smaller.

  “Do you know what happened when I went on that business trip to Memphis last week?”

  I lifted a shoulder.

  “I asked you to order me appropriate clothes. Do you know what showed up.”

  He clicked on his phone, stretching out an arm to show a picture.

  I squinted to make out the outfit in the photo.

  Just like I would if I didn’t know it was an Elvis costume, complete with rhinestone collar.

  “Vintage,” I offered.

  “That is not my suit. You know what kind of suits I wear.” The rage in his voice had me biting my cheek.

  So here’s the thing. You might call my little jokes ‘pranks’. But they don’t hurt anyone, really. They’re intended to help level the playing field.

  Karma isn’t fast enough so I step in.

  “When I asked for something regionally appropriate, I meant nubuck shoes,” he went on. “Not rhinestones.”

  I swallowed the hiccup of laughter.

  “If this was the only time, I might’ve thought it was a mistake. But there have been others.” Avery ticked off his fingers as he rounded the desk. “The catered roast beef luncheon for my meeting last month that ended up being vegan delight.”

  “The new corporate environmental policy. Soy has lower carbon emissions than beef.”

  “The time you booked me to speak about fiscal reform to the Girl Scouts of America.”

  “You always say this country is still recovering
from the financial crisis. I figured it’s never too early for an education.”

  Avery shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants like he was going to strangle me if he didn’t.

  He started down the row of windows that lined the back of his office. His strides were measured, but tension emanated from every inch of him.

  “If I wasn’t so sure it was sabotage, I’d call it incompetence,” Avery tossed over his shoulder.

  This is it. My chance.

  “Maybe this is a fit issue. Things haven’t been easy the past few months. You’re under all this pressure with Hollister’s arrest. I could go back to working for Payton.”

  I used to split my time amongst three associates, including Avery and my friend Payton. Six weeks ago Avery had stopped by my cubicle to notify me that I had three days to offload the rest of my assignments because I was working for him. Full-time.

  That was it. No asking if that was what I wanted.

  I’d called HR, who’d told me the decision had been made and I had no choice in the matter.

  If I’d been acting out more since…could you blame me?

  “Your job is to assist me. Not to advise me. Not to impose your skewed sense of the world on this place,” he bit out.

  Avery stopped in front of me, his hard chest inches away.

  “There are two ways to accomplish anything, Charlotte. The easy way or the hard way.”

  Images of the nearly two years I’d known him replayed in my mind’s eye. His refusal to fill out any paperwork, but explosions if the rest of us didn’t file his expense claims alphabetically. His denial of my last two vacation requests—even though he’d spent both weeks away on business trips and barely checked in.

  Most days I could put up with the condescending tone. The derisive looks.

  This was not most days.

  I met his angry gaze. “I thought it was your way or your way.”

  Avery’s nostrils flared.

  I’d seen him lose his cool, but something told me there was another level. As much as I prided myself on taking any shit these guys dished out, I wasn’t eager to see Avery unleashed.

  But instead of yelling, his voice dropped.

  “Let’s talk about your way, Charlotte. You drift around this place like everything is a joke instead of a billion dollar business. You’re a rebel without a cause. The only thing you create is chaos. I thought it was a power trip. It’s not. It’s a goddamned cry for help.”

  I blinked.

  Well, that was…personal.

  I forced myself to meet his steely gaze, despite the feeling I’d been sucker punched. It was doubly hard given our closeness and the fact that I could smell his cologne, subtle—unlike the man—with each breath.

  “If you knew I was such a screw-up, Mr. Banks, why did you have me assigned to you in the first place?”

  It was his turn to look taken aback.

  “It was an error in judgment. I’m rectifying that now.” He rounded the desk and took a seat in his chair. “You’re fired.”

  Blood drained from my face. “What did you say?”

  “I’m in line for the biggest promotion of my life. You are a threat to that. Now,” he bit out, checking his watch, “you have twenty-four hours to put my files in order and pack up your things. Take so much as a stapler and HR will tackle you on the sidewalk.”

  I tried to ignore the painful pit forming in my stomach.

  He turned back to his computer, and I willed my feet to carry me out the door.

  “Two more G&Ts. Heavy on the G.”

  The bartender disappeared to fix our drinks.

  Rose shook her head. “You’re like the liquid assistant. Do you do this every week?”

  “I’m celebrating.”

  Every Thursday, a bunch of Alliance-rs vacated the premises at five pm like clockwork, bound for the bar down the street.

  Back when I’d started working there, the only social events were the holiday Christmas party and the impromptu drinking that broke out after end-of-fiscal announcements and when bonuses were handed out. Within a month, I’d realized everyone needed to blow off more steam. So I’d organized the weekly social that meant Alliance took over Throwdown Thursdays at Tilt. Though anyone was welcome, the crowd steered toward young associates, admins, and anybody looking to drink and flirt and burn off some energy. The hierarchy fell away, the layers melted by a common language—bitching and alcohol.

  “Charlie!” A brunette with a Mila Kunis vibe wove her way through the bodies and up to the bar, wedging in between us. “Sorry I’m late. This client was calling all afternoon, then there was an accident on the bridge. My air conditioning broke and now I’m dripping.”

  Nothing about her look, from the sleek ponytail down her back to her silk tank and pencil skirt, said she was dripping. But Payton, who’d once been an assistant like me and was now rocking it as an associate, had always possessed an eye for the details.

  I signaled to the bartender, who started mixing up a third drink next to the two half-finished ones.

  “How was the anniversary trip?”

  “Great. I can’t believe it’s been a year. We went to Max’s parents in Florida, then spent a few days to ourselves. Disney World,” she confessed.

  “Cartoons and screaming toddlers. Sounds romantic.”

  “Max loves that kind of thing. I guess it’s the bigger-than-life part.”

  I envisioned the cool tech CEO Payton had met through work, complete with the glower and the eyebrow piercing.

  “This practice for when you’re having your own little hellions?”

  She laughed. “Hardly. Max and his parents are more like you and your parents than me and my mom. So it’s hard for him to picture passing that on. But, we are moving in together.”

  “Shit. That’s great.”

  “You think so?” Her rosy face warmed me, her full lips pulling up at the corners. “I mean, you know he moves fast as the line at Macy’s on Black Friday.”

  “He’s divorced. Comes with the territory.”

  “God, I needed the good news with all this Alliance drama.” She glanced toward the TV in the corner of the bar. “I’m glad they’ve finally stopped running that feed of Hollister in handcuffs. I’m having to talk clients down on an hourly basis. Anyway, what’s new with you?”

  I’d been looking forward to unloading on my friend. But as I stared at her expression, I changed my mind.

  “Nothing can top that.”

  Payton realized Rose was there for the first time when the bartender set three drinks in front of us. “I’m sorry, the heat has me sweating like a dog and my brain’s turned to mush. I’m Payton. And I swear I’m not a huge bitch.”

  “Rose.” Rose leaned over, her dark hair swaying in a curtain over her shoulder. “I’m a temp. I’m filling in for Armand Banks’ assistant starting this week.”

  We both made faces.

  “Can I trade my Banks for that one?” she said. I followed her gaze down the bar to where Avery sat with a couple of colleagues. “What does he like?” Rose asked, her voice dreamy.

  I sucked the pick in my drink. “Pocket squares. Linen. Sadism. Other people’s pain makes him stronger.”

  Payton snorted. “It’s true. My new assistant, Emma, covered for Charlie when she was out sick one day. Avery rented a car for a business trip, refused insurance, scratched the thing, then yelled at her because he had to pay for it.”

  Rose’s face clouded. “So why does everyone make like he’s some kind of god?”

  “Because he is.” Payton took a sip of her drink. “Alliance upped the performance standards for all associates last year—basically doubled the amount of new business we’re supposed to bring in. Ended up laying off three people because of it.”

  “He made the cut,” Rose decided.

  “Two times over. And argued the company should raise the standards again.” Payton shook her head. Disgust and admiration.

  “How does he do it?”

 
“No one really knows. I always figured he had a lot of connections, with his uncle and having gone to law school. But I don’t think that explains all of it. Charlie?”

  I shrugged. “The man’s a shark. Lately he’s been spending a lot of time working on some kind of program he says is going to ‘fundamentally transform client relationship management.’” I used air quotes.

  “New lead generation?” Payton asked, curious.

  I took in Rose’s blank stare. “Leads are potential clients the associates can follow up with to try and get their business.” Payton nodded in agreement. “And I don’t know if it’s leads.” I try to tune him out when he whips out the soapbox. “But apparently he’s designing it himself.”

  Rose sighed. “He’s smart and gorgeous.” Payton and I stared at her, and she blushed. “Come on, I can’t be the only one to think that. I was watching him in that meeting today. He’s that rare kind of guy you can bring home to meet your parents. Then while they’re downstairs congratulating each other for raising such a responsible child, you’re doing dirty things with him in the guest bathroom. He’s not married, is he?” she went on, oblivious to the fact that both Payton and I were staring at her.

  I shook it off, stirring my drink. “Nope.”

  “Can I talk to him?” Rose breathed.

  “Knock yourself out. But don’t blame me when he bites your head off.”

  She grinned, spinning on her heel and trotting down the bar.

  I craned my neck to watch for the inevitable crash and burn. As much as I was in a bitchy mood, I still felt responsible for her.

  “She’s sweet,” Payton offered.

  “Yes. And her lifelong dream is to work at Alliance. Can you believe it?”

  “I think she wants to be you.”

  “She’s welcome to it,” I muttered into my drink.

  “Admit it,” Payton goaded. “You would miss Avery’s attention if he turned it on Rose.”

  “What? Not even.”

  “Come on. You’re the only one he gives the time of day to. Hell, you’re the only one he looks at for longer than two seconds.”

  “I’m his assistant.”