“If you can’t handle it, you can just turn in your resignation.”
I want to strangle him. I do, really.
“This is a career, not ajob. If you want ajob, you go elsewhere. And since this is a career, you put in the hours necessary. Understood?” he says, addressing me like I’m intellectually challenged.
“Yes,” I say with a fake smile. The only consolation here is that I get paid overtime. Actually, that may work out pretty nicely. I might even have some money left to save at the end of the month.
“Then get back to work. I’m not paying you to stand there like a tree.”
Chapter Thirty
Grant
I roll out of bed at four, then let out a yawn. I was up until midnight working. Every associate did too, because we’re that busy these days. As for Aspen…
Well, she stayed until midnight too. To be honest, there isn’t much for assistants to do that late, but I made her write fifty additional memos. They are pointless tasks because Renée already did them before she quit.
But Aspen doesn’t need to know that. And I like telling her she did everything wrong. Her eyes flashed murder, and I’m just dying for her to do something to get herself justifiably terminated. Or make her so mad she throws her resignation in my face.
I also enjoyed watching her march out of my office, while steam was coming out of her ears. When she’s mad, there’s an extra swing to her hips.
Not that I’m attracted to her, of course. I donotwant to fuck her. Once was enough.
You did her more than once,a little voice whispers.
Stop being so technical.
I don’t know why she’s trying to continue her employment at GrantEm, but I’m not letting her get whatever she wants out of the firm. Most importantly, I’m not letting her near Emmett, especially after she spoke so admiringly about him. I don’t need her wrecking his marriage. He’s happy with Amy, and I’m not letting some gold-digging bitch ruin it. Little Monique won’t grow up in a broken home.
I brush my teeth and put on a running shirt, shorts and shoes. Aspen should be here soon.
Ding-dong.
There she is. Four thirty a.m. on the dot.
I look at the intercom. She’s in a car. It looks like a piece of junk…
Wait, is that the same one she had in college? It can’t be. There’s no way that thing would still be running.
Do not think about college.I buzz her in and watch her disappear into the well-lit driveway and the landscape. I hope she sees the enormous garden and the lavish mansion—all the marble and stone and crystal. I want her to weep and gnash her teeth that this could’ve been hers if only she hadn’t betrayed me.
She knocks on the door. I let her into the glitzy foyer. It has a soaring cathedral ceiling and a giant chandelier made with Swedish crystal. Three François originals stand in the small nooks forobjets d’art. Every inch of my home drips with wealth. Even Huxley admires it, and he doesn’t impress easily. He’s asked to host a few events here, but I’ve always turned him down. I don’t like having people over. Other than my brothers—and staff—nobody’s seen the inside.
Aspen is in a loose T-shirt and denim shorts. Her feet are encased in walking shoes that aren’t ideal for running.
Well, she should’ve dressed better, I tell myself, although technically it isn’t her fault, since I didn’t tell her exactly what we’d be doing.
She glances around a bit, and I let her soak it all in.
Finally, she looks at me. “So where is everyone?”
Her eyes betray nothing. She might as well be in a typical middle-class home for all the reaction she has. And it’sveryannoying. She should be impressed. She should be sorry as hell. As a matter of fact, sheshouldbe so regretful that she’s tearing up. “This is everyone. You and me. The team.”
“Are you kidding?”
I hold her eyes. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“Did you ask your other assistants to do this, too? The one who was with you before me?” Her tone says no wonder Renée quit.
