“It’s too bad none of the degree holders could satisfy your brother. He seems like a sharp guy. It’s really unfortunate that he’s married.”
Grant scowls. “What does that mean?”
I infuse enough sugar into my voice to cause diabetes. “I’m just saying it must’ve broken alotof female hearts. A sweet man with discerning taste and intelligence? Really rare. One of a kind, really. I certainly never thought such a life form existed until last Wednesday. And to discover that he’s related toyou? It was like finding teeth in a hen.”
He snorts a laugh, but his eyes remain cold. “You think you’re so clever.”
“IknowI am.”
“Then why don’t you join me for a team-building event and wow me with your cleverness?”
What’s his plan? Make me scrub toilets with a tiny, toddler-sized toothbrush? He should know better than to expect me to give in.
I paste on my bring-it-on smile. “I’d be happy to.”
He gives me an address. “Be there by four thirty—”
“No problem.”
“—a.m.”
I start. “What?”
He smirks. “I thought clever people would know such a simple thing.”
Dickhead. “You want me to be there by four thirty in the morning?”
“That’s whata.m. means.”
This has to be some kind of hazing. “Is this part of my job?”
“Of course.”
“Do all assistants do this?”
“Mine does. If you don’t like it, you can simply quit. Nobody’s stopping you.”
I see what this is about. He doesn’t even want me collecting unemployment. What an ass. He hasn’t changed. Not even a little. “I’ll be there. So what are we doing for team building?”
“Dress comfortably,” he says cryptically.
He won’t give me any further information, so I redo all my memosagain, since he doesn’t like any of them. Eventually he instructs me to send the first version of each memo to the relevant company director and partner. My blood boils, but I control my temper. It’s just the first day. I knew he was going to be an ass.
When it’s five, I straighten my desk and check off all my to-dos for the day. Zack wants to buy me a drink to celebrate my first day after work, and I’m meeting him at the bar where we both work.
I head over to Grant’s office. “Do you have any last-minute tasks for me before I head out?”
He looks up from his desk and gives me a blank look. But it doesn’t fool me. I can see his mind whirring. “It’s not even six.”
“Emmett said assistants work forty hours a week.”
Grant scoffs. “Nobody on my team works forty hours. What do you think this is?”
What is he? Stupid? “A full-time job? So that means forty hours?”
“No. You work as long as necessary, until I say I’m satisfied.”
“You gotta be kidding me.”
