Eric is still standing there open-mouthed when I close the door.
Not a minute later, Ricardo walks in with his brows lifted.
“Your assistant is crying and putting things in a box.”
I sit behind my desk and pick up my pen again. “You know how I feel about incompetence.”
“Yes,” Ricardo says, closing the door behind him. “I do.”
I sign the document in front of me, then set it aside. “Peter Hanley.”
Ricardo’s expression changes immediately.
Ricardo is too subtle for a dramatic reaction, but there is a slight tightening around his mouth, a flicker of disgust in his eyes.
“Yes,” he says. “I’m familiar.”
“Well, he barged into my office not too long ago and complained about his access being revoked.”
Ricardo’s brows go up again. “He barged into your office,” he repeats, slowly.
“Yes. Made himself right at home, then proceeded to complain to me.”
Ricardo is silent for a beat.
Then his mouth curves faintly. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think Hanley had the balls for that.”
“I don’t think it was balls,” I say. “I think it was stupidity.”
“Fair.” He steps farther into the room. “And that explains the assistant crying and packing his desk.”
“Defeats the purpose of an assistant if he's not here to keep unimportant people out of my office.”
Ricardo nods once, accepting that. “What do you want me to do about Hanley? Fire him?”
“One of the drawbacks of legitimate business,” I say, “is that you cannot simply fire someone because he irritates you. We open ourselves up to lawsuits.”
“Ah, yes,” Ricardo says. “Americans do love suing.”
“Unfortunately, he has not done anything to warrant it.”
I look him in the eye.
“So find something,” I say. “I want that man out of my building as soon aslegallypossible.”
Ricardo smirks.
“Done.”
Soon after Ricardo leaves, I sit back down, pull the next document toward me, and make the mistake of believing I might finally get some work done.
The knock comes less than two minutes later.
Two lazy taps followed by the door opening before I answer.
I look up.
Diego walks in.
