At 7:30 pm, the office was quiet; the last of employees – save Heather and Samuel – had cleared out over an hour ago and the cleaning staff would not be in until after ten. Two and a half more hours, Heather thought, should be enough time for Samuel to finish his briefing for Friday and Heather to go through the last of the surrendered documentation from opposing counsel to find anything last minute that might clench the case.
Heather shifted the Chinese delivery box in her arms as the elevator door opened. She had come down, answering the summons from the security desk, when the food arrived. Heather was getting used to the idea of considering herself more business partner to than employee of Samuel. She was not just a secretary. She had to be more than that, even though she was not a paralegal. He depended on her to proof-read and ensure correspondence was in compliance. That proved especially challenging, and today, Heather tore up a letter as she stood in front of Samuel’s desk to demonstrate to him that edit notes were less recommendation and more fix-this.
She stepped onto the elevator. She had not meant to be a bitch, but it was the third draft of the same letter, and the same problematic passage was there. Samuel was a good lawyer, but he had to be careful how he presented his expectations to a new client when those expectations were of the outcome of a case the client had not even been interviewed about yet. Samuel had, at least, been a good sport about it and made the corrections she suggested.
Heather wondered, as the elevator doors began to close, if her experiences at Haven helped her be more firm with Samuel. She thought about her first day on the job, and would never have imagined ripping up a draft letter without getting reprimanded or fired.
“Please hold the elevator!” A woman’s voice floated to her just before the doors met.
Heather twisted around and pressed the door open button with her elbow. Someone – Heather assumed the woman who the request came from – stepped onto the elevator with a quick thank you. Heather stood up and suddenly had to catch the box of food. For a moment, her hands had stopped working. Sandy hair, loose tonight, framed a milky complexion, curvaceous lips, and bright blue eyes that looked at Heather with desire, curiosity, and a little hint of amusement.
“Mia.” Heather gripped the corners of the box firmly and watched Mia select the floor Heather needed, but no other. “What brings you here tonight?”
Buy now on Amazon.