“I knew I forgot to lay salt outside my door this morning.”
A scowl forms on his face. “You also forgot to let the bird out of the nest it’s made in your hair.”
“At least I have hair. You know there are clinics that specialize in hair growth, right?” I run the oval tip of my manicured nail along my hairline.
“Funny. Not all of us are making junior partner salary and have thousands to burn.”
I jut my bottom lip out. “I think you’ve had enough time to sit and marinate in your jealousy, Spencer. You need to move on, sweetie.”
“I’ll move on when you admit that I should have been the one to get it!”
“You have bigger problems to worry about than a promotion. Speaking of, did you forget your lifted soles this morning? You’re looking a bit . . . short today.”
He curls his lip at me when he sneers, “You’re such a bitch, Aubrey.”
“What about it?”
Looking back at my computer, I continue drafting my email and wait for him to turn away and leave. The click-clack of my custom pink keyboard fills the office as I wait, eyeing the time on the corner of my screen. Two minutes pass before I hear him scuff his glossy shoes across the floor and clear his throat.
“There’s a rumour going around the office.”
I exhale slowly, jaw cramping. “And what is that?”
“That you walked out on a date the other night. Word has it that the guy spent an hour after your disappearance cursing your name at the bar.”
“And that matters, why? Jealous I could get a date in the first place, while you remain alone? What are they calling it now? The male loneliness epidemic?”
I keep my expression blank as I think back to whether or not I had recognized anyone from the office at the restaurant. Nobody comes to mind, but then again, I wasn’t paying much attention to anything around me.
“You know the annual charity gala is coming up, don’t you? Surely, Rowena has been on your ass about making sure you’re ready to represent the firm as the newest junior partner,” he says, a sick sense of humour growing in his tone.
I’ve attended several of these galas, but yes, this one is different, I’ll give him that. Last year, I wasn’t a junior partner. When I introduced myself to clients and met new faces who haven’t ever needed our legal help before, it was as a senior associate. There’s more pressure on me this year. I couldn’t be more aware of that.
“I’m still not understanding how this has anything to do with my dating life. Are you looking for some sort of advice from me regarding yours, Spencer?”
“No!” he barks, his nose crinkling. “I’m trying to tell you that it may look better if you weren’t about to make your partnership debut with such a . . . disappointing reputation. Nobody likes a successful woman who’s the centre of workplace drama.”
That grabs my attention. Slowly, I slide my eyes from the computer and stab them into Spencer. He’s far too proud of himself right now, and that just won’t do. I straighten in my chair and wet my lips.
“You’re right about one thing.Nobodylikes a success womanat. All. And that’s exactly why I’m a junior partner and you’re not. I’ve worked ten times as hard to get here as you have, and I’m not going to stop. Not now, or later, when you’re introducing yourself as a lawyer at Aldridge, Clarke, Shaw, andMerrick. Getused to being beneath me, Spencer. It’s the only time you’ll get the chance.”
His face deepens in colour, painting him a concerning shade of red as he jabs his hands into his pockets and leans forward on his toes. “Don’t deflect with your feminist bullshit. You’re a walking red flag, Aubrey, and it won’t be long before everyone else here finally sees that. Your dating life is only the first sign of how unbearable you truly are to those you spend time with.”
“Your choice of insults is boring. I’ve heard them all before.”
They still fucking burn, though. Yet I don’t let him see the effect they have on me, refusing to give him any sort of reaction. He’ll only feed on it like a parasite.
“It would be a real shame if those rumours continued to be fed. Imagine the looks you’ll get when one of your bitter dates shows up here and makes a scene? Or, even worse, appears at the gala. Since you don’t have a boyfriend, I imagine that it would be hard for our highest-paying clients not to grow a bit . . . embarrassed by the drama you bring?—”
“Who said I don’t have a boyfriend?”
Fuck.
Spencer pauses, letting my interruption sink in. His response is exactly what I expect it to be.
“Then who was the man pitching a fit the other night? Reed told me explicitly that she heard him claim a date ditched him.”
Reed, huh? I file that for later, needing to focus on not currently screwing myself even harder. Quick on my feet, I manage an excuse fast enough to play it off as the truth.
