“I’m a private company,” I said. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I’ve been on your side for years, and you know it.” He crossed his arms. “You also know that returning to this city means a lot more scrutiny—given the way you left—and I’m trying to prevent you from stepping into a shit storm.”
“I own plenty of umbrellas.”
“Harrison…”
“Damien…” I shook my head. “What happened to ‘the law is meant to be bent until it’s damn near broken’? Isn’t that your motto?”
“It is, and I still stand by it.” He picked up a briefcase and opened it. Then he took out a thick packet and slid it across my desk.
“I didn’t say you had to actually honor the lunch breaks,” he said. “You just need to make sure that your inhumane and medieval policy is never printed or in writing.”
“I see…”
“You’re welcome for intercepting all the new employee contracts and taking out those sue-worthy clauses. Feel free to thank me at any time.”
“You didn’t do it for free.”
“I wouldn’t be your favorite lawyer if I did.” He smiled. “I’ll call Peter tonight with my additional edits.”
“Peter quit on me last month,” I said. “I’m sure his attorney will be contacting you soon.”
“About what?”
I said nothing. He’d receive the details soon enough.
“You should look into programming a robot for your next assistant,” he said. “Or better yet, just hire five assistants and let them split the work.”
“I tried that before, remember?” I shuddered at the memory.
“Oh, right.” He shook his head. “Well, maybe just try to be a little less like Satan and a lot more like a human being this time around.”
I rolled my eyes. “My newest one is a woman named Andrea Stone. I’ll have her contact you.”
“I’m serious about being nice.” He locked his briefcase. “It goes a long way with making people like you.”
“How wouldyouknow anything about that?”
“Good point.” He laughed as he left my office.
I clicked his meeting as complete in my phone and glanced over the upcoming time slots.
9:20 meetingwith the merch director.
9:50 sessionwith the finance manager.
It meant over an hour until I saw Miss Stone again, and I wasn’t sure if tracking that was a good or a bad thing.
EIGHT (B)
HARRISON
At eleven o’clock on the dot, Miss Stone returned to my office in an emerald green dress that made focusing nearly impossible.
With flushed pink cheeks, she stood in the doorway, glancing between me and Aaron—who’d overstayed his welcome by ten minutes.
“If you’re going to commission new designer-level uniforms, I just think you need to consider whether that’ll have a real effect on sales, you know?” he asked. “It sounds nicer and the designs look wonderful, but…”
