Me: I don't know what you mean by that. Just act like a normal human being. Steven knows we are friends through Aubrey and Jax.
Jett: What else does Stevie know?
Me: Can you stop calling him that?
Jett: I don’t know. Can you stop calling him Steven?
Me: That’s his name.
Jett: No one goes by that name. It’s pretentious.
Me: I am going back to work.
Jett: Your work will include me tomorrow.
Me: Goodbye, Jett.
Jett: See you tomorrow. Wear something for me to stare at.
I turnedon my out of office auto-reply and googled scrubbing my message history.
God, the man was infuriating. He couldn’t separate a damn personal encounter from a business one to save his life. And wasn’t that the problem with him? He was so far up his business’s ass, he couldn’t enjoy life.
The rest of the day, I stomped through every one of my tasks, including choosing an outfit for the meeting the next day. I didn’t do it for Jett. I did it for Steven and our company. I had to represent. I also wanted to look nice enough that Steven noticed.
The next morning, I slipped into the Fendi bodycon dress with long sleeves and a high neckline. The dark-beige logos against the black jacquard of the dress complimented my skin tone, and it fit like a glove, hugging my curves.
My mother, ever the crazy driven businesswoman and a micromanager, had climbed her way to the top of the fashion business. I learned a sharp sense of style growing up and had a closet full of wonderful clothes. I also knew how to pull off a risqué dress and still appear professional. I tied my hair back in a tight bun and stepped into my stilettos. This outfit would not only make people gawk, it would make them see how lethal a lawyer I was.
At work, our legal team buzzed about before the meeting. Mark, one of the senior attorneys, told us all, “We need to be fully prepared to negotiate if necessary and know our number.”
My face scrunched in confusion. "Steven said he doesn't want to sell. Why should we prepare to negotiate?"
Mark smiled but looked down his nose at us. "Steve wouldn't be going to this meeting if he didn't want to sell."
“That's not true,” I blurted. A couple of senior attorneys looked over at me. Their faces wrinkled in either question or distaste. Most of us junior associates stayed quiet except to ask questions. I cleared my throat. “I just find it hard to believe that Steven would hand all his loyal employees over to that unscrupulous shark for any number.”
Mark chuckled. Then the chuckle grew to a full belly laugh. And while I stared at him holding his gut in, I had to school my face into a neutral expression so he wouldn’t see my disgust. Mark reminded me of the terrible cliché of a dirty old uncle who was always side-eyeing you. He’d lost most of his gray hair but was holding onto the last few strands with a death grip. And the looks he shot my way always made me feel grimy, like I needed a shower.
He nudged John, another senior attorney, in the side. Those two always looked at me like a piece of meat they wanted to devour in private but a weed in their manicured lawn in public. Most days, I understood. I was the upstart blonde they dreaded would take their place next to Steven. I didn’t outrank them, but they knew I climbed a different ladder. I could have the lowest LSAT in the state and they believed Steven would promote me over them.
Maybe they were right.
Maybe Steven was only dragging me along to these important meetings because of the attraction we had toward one another.
But I wasn’t dumb. My LSAT results had been one question shy of a perfect score.
They could laugh all they wanted. I might not have earned my place at the table yet, but I was damn capable of getting there. I pushed a few stray hairs behind my ear. “We’ll see.”
I was sure of Steven’s resolve, sure of his righteousness, and knew when he’d said he wanted the best for the company, he’d meant it.
Mark, John, Steven, and a few others piled into an SUV that took us over to Stonewood Enterprises.
The building stood taller than those around it and looked like it curved into the sky. The architectural design allowed for it to be constructed in a way where the windows looked like a wave bent up above the city. It was a physical representation of the Stonewoods’ dominion of the business world. Jett and his father had a strong handle on every big company in the city and were large contenders nationally. They dabbled in software, applications, stocks, just about everything that could make money.
The Wall Street Journalclaimed that Jett stepping into his father’s shoes some years back had driven the company to greater success. He was solely responsible for some of the biggest—and riskiest—investments the company made.
“Steve, what’s our number?” Mark asked boldly, interrupting everyone’s small talk.