by Monroe, Max
Not to mention, keep me entertained.
Ruby is more than just easy on the eyes. She’s smart, sarcastic as hell, and I’m finding that I actually enjoy her company.
Plus, I haven’t had a real chase in a while, and I’m surprised to find I miss it. Women throwing themselves at me is great, but it feels nice to have to dust off some old skills a little bit.
The anticipation is likely to make the fucking that much better, too.
Thoughts of Ruby make me think of my promises to Ruby, namely talking to her professors.
Once I sit down at my desk, I type out a quick email to Hullum, Shank, Koontz, and Marisol—all of Ruby’s current professors—and let them know she’s my new intern. I also assure them that whatever lectures she misses, I’ll review with her personally.
All four of her professors were my third-year professors and, once I graduated from law school, have become esteemed colleagues. They’ll trust my judgment on this, I’m certain. Plus, it’s not completely unheard of to focus your third year of law on practical credit, and I’m nothing if not the most practical credit of all.
And I’d really prefer Ruby have very little to focus on other than me.
After I hit send on the email, I take out a pen and a pad and get to work poring over the files I got from my fourth fucking visit to the law library yesterday. There are a couple statutes on the tax penalties Hugh Gorman is facing but not much documentation of a defense ever successfully using them.
If I’m going to make a case for a deferred sentence in lieu of a penalty payment, I’m going to have to find a basis.
Head down and focused, I make my way through half the file by the time seven rolls around.
The cleaning staff comes through and empties my trash cans, but I don’t pay much attention, and neither do they. They’re pretty used to working around me at this point, as I don’t keep what most would consider normal hours in the slightest.
When the clock on my desk chimes to announce the eight o’clock hour, I get up to pour another cup of coffee and look out the window.
Unfortunately, the absolute first thing I spot down on the sidewalk is Hillary making her way into the building.
What the fuck?
I speed walk back to my desk, grab the phone off the hook, and dial Liz’s number. After three quick rings, it rolls straight to voice mail.
I slam the receiver down on the base and pick up my cell phone instead. If she’s too relaxed to answer my call, I’ll use some texts to tense her up.
Me: What the hell, Liz? I thought you said you got someone new?
When she doesn’t respond immediately, I send several more messages, demon-style.
Me: HELLO. Liz, someone has to answer for this. I know you’re busy staring at your new cherub, but I’m not going to stop until you take responsibility.
Me: This is the work of Satan, Liz. Siccing this woman on me again. After the way I’ve treated you, too.
Me: Hey, you know what, maybe I’ll just send her on an errand to your house. Tell her to show up and ring the doorbell repeatedly, make a fucking remix with it. Seems like a simple enough task, even for her…
Me: Probably really good in a house with a newborn, too. Hell, maybe Hell-ary can kill two birds with one stone and post selfies of her and your little bambino on her Instagram. A cute baby beside a pair of fake tits and overly glossed lips probably brings in killer likes and comments…
Eventually, my annoy-her-until-she-responds plan works.
Liz: FINE. GOD, I HATE YOU.
I grin and type out a response.
Me: That’s a really strange way to say you love me, Liz. Really strange. I’ll log it for further study at a later date. But for right now, why don’t you just answer my question—what the fuck?
This time, she does me the courtesy of answering immediately.
Liz: You were being an asshole. I lied. I didn’t call the temp agency.
Me: WHY THE HELL NOT?
Liz: Because I’m on maternity leave! Call them yourself if you’re that miserable.
Wait…what?
Me: I can just call them?
Liz: Jesus.
Me: Fine. Whatever. I found someone else on my own anyway.
Liz: Let me guess…pretty, young, perky breasts.
Me: What’s your point, Liz? She just so happens to be really smart.
Liz: Right.
Her snap judgment of Ruby kind of fucking irks me.
I mean, I might have some ulterior motives of my own when it comes to her, but goddamn, she’s not just a pair of perky tits. She is incredibly driven and smart. And the complete opposite of what Liz is assuming, for fuck’s sake.
But, with Hell-ary heading my way, I don’t have time to set my lazy, on-maternity-leave-for-what-feels-like-for-fucking-ever assistant straight.
Me: Whatever. Go hang out with your baby. I bet he doesn’t even say anything interesting.
Liz: Don’t mind if I do. Don’t bother me again until January.
I’m tempted to type another pointless message back, but when I hear noise outside my office, I’m reminded of what I need to do right the fuck now.
Oh, Hell-ary no.
I don’t hesitate to storm out of my office in a rush, the words already on my lips.
“You’re fired!” I say, just as Ruby looks up from the assistant desk and scowls.
“Well, that didn’t last long.”
Despite the tense situation I’ve just created with my big fat mouth, I can’t stop my eyes from flitting between her very perky tits that are hidden beneath a soft pink sweater and her gorgeous face and the fact that Ruby is running on zero sleep and could literally be the next model for Cover Girl.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
“I guess I’ll not unpack my stuff and head home.”
Her words snap me back to reality. Shit.
“Wait…what? No, Jesus. I thought you were someone else. You weren’t supposed to be here until ten thirty.”
“I got done recording early. I thought you’d want me to come in,” she remarks. “I’ll just go.”
“No, no!” I cry, reaching out and grabbing her by the elbow. “I thought you were someone else.”
“Well, that’s great. Already mistaking me for other women.”
“No,” I say again, trying desperately to climb out of this hole. The next time I see Liz, I’m confiscating her damn shovel. “Hillary, a temp who’s been working here the last few days, was on her way in. I just assumed that whoever was out here was her.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Young? Stilettos? Shiny, red lips? Miniskirt?”
I nod.
“She got off the elevator, saw me at the desk, and then turned around and left.”
“She didn’t say anything? Ask you anything?”
“Nope.”
“Wow.” I laugh more to myself than to her. “Okay. Well, firing her turned out to be easier than I thought.”
Ruby rolls her eyes.
“I wasn’t trying to fire you,” I say again. “I swear. And it’s great that you came in early. We’re swamped, and you have to get the lay of the land.”
“Okay. What do you need me to do?”
“Right now?” I wince. “Well…I really need some coffee.”
She nods. “Then I’ll get you coffee.”
I feel my eyebrows reach my forehead. “Really?”
“I’m working for you, Caplin. Not dating you.”
“In that case, you should know…”
“Yeah?”
“Everyone calls me Cap. The only person who still uses Caplin is my mother, and she’s…well, she’s something else.”
“Okay, Cap,” she says, rolling my name around on her tongue. Instantly, I fixate on the way her pretty, pink mouth moves, and I can’t help but imagine her rolling something else around on that tongue of hers.
She raises her eyebrows when I stare at her a little too long.
“So…where’s the kitchen?”
&nb
sp; I nod toward the opposite direction of her desk. “Down the hall and to the left.”
She turns on her heel to head there, but when I clear my throat, she turns back. “What now, Cap?”
That spark of feistiness makes me grin. “The kitchen is there, but it doesn’t have any coffee. I ran out.”
The radius of her eyes lessens. “So…”
“So, you either have to go to the store or a coffee shop, but I suggest the store. I go through about twenty pots a day.”
She purses her lips. “Right.”
“You can have some for yourself too.”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
“That’s weird, but okay.” I shrug and slide my hands into the pockets of my slacks. “Obviously, I’m not here to judge. Get yourself some hot chocolate, then.”
I dig in my right pocket for some money and reach out to tuck it into her hand. “And grab anything else you want to have around here. We get busy.” I shrug. “It’s always good to have anything you might want on hand.”
She smirks, a hand settling onto her hip, and from what little I know about her, I expect the result of such a pose will be interesting.
“I’d love to have a million dollars around here,” she remarks, proving me right. Ruby Rockford is one hell of an interesting woman.
What she doesn’t understand yet, though, is that I’m an equally interesting man.
“National Savings Bank on the corner of Wall Street and Broadway. Account number 5673908. They can call me for approval.”
She widens her eyes briefly before narrowing them dramatically as she shakes her head and turns for the elevator. She only makes one comment, and it’s in the form of a single word tossed over her shoulder. “Funny.”
“Funny, all right,” I mumble softly to myself as the doors close across her beautiful face.
I gave her the real account number.
Ruby
Two hours into working for Caplin Hawkins—or Cap, as he prefers to be called—and I’ve experienced the following: an accidental firing, an apology for the accidental firing, and somehow, within an hour of starting my new job, I got roped into a trip to the store to buy him coffee and snacks.
Obviously, it’s been nothing short of interesting.
As I head back into the office building, I pray to God the rest of my first day will go a lot smoother. But the instant I step off the elevator with a bag full of groceries in hand, my ears are graced with the sounds of a phone ringing. My new office phone ringing, that is.
Shit.
I run for the assistant’s desk and pick up the call as quickly as possible.
I’m a little out of breath and the greeting could use some work, but at least I answer the phone.
“Cap…Mr. Cap…I mean, Mr. Caplin Hawkins’s office. How may I be of service?”
Gah, I’m an idiot.
“I have Kline Brooks calling,” the efficient voice says in my ear, her assistant experience clearly on an expert level. To be fair, though, just last night, I had no idea I’d be doing this job. And I’ve also had next to no sleep.
Fortunately, I’ve read enough papers to know the name Kline Brooks, the famous billionaire mogul who started that dating app called TapNext, so I know this is a call I’m supposed to forward right into Cap’s office.
“One moment, please.”
I pull the receiver away from my ear, glance down at the phone, and…screech to a halt.
Jee-sus. What is this thing, the motherboard for the Starship Atlantis?
I scramble to find the button to the intercom or the call transfer—freaking anything related to my objective in a sea of overzealous options—and come up blank.
In a panic, I drop the phone to the tabletop, jump up from the desk, and push open Cap’s door without knocking.
He looks up from his monstrous workstation—mahogany base and filigree accents and just about everything you’d expect from a motherclucking billionaire—a pair of reading glasses perched on his perfect nose. “Yes?”
“There’s a call for you from Kline Brooks, but I have no idea how to switch it to your phone.”
He glances quickly at his phone on the desktop, just to see for himself that I really don’t know what I’m doing.
It’s like men need to be the ones to be right, even when we’re saying we’re not right. They want to prove we’re right just to prove we’re wrong. It’s very complex, and I don’t think I’ll ever understand it, but it’s happened to me too many times to ignore it.
But there are no blinking lights or beckoning calls, just as I knew there wouldn’t be. I haven’t had enough time to get my spaceship pilot’s license.
In a rush, he shoves back from his desk and makes the brisk walk to me and out the door.
I follow like a puppy and kind of hover over his shoulder as he picks up the phone from my desk, turns around, and puts it to my ear. I’m shaking my head, which should make my ear a difficult target, but somehow, it doesn’t deter him.
With him holding it, the proximity between us is…disconcerting, to say the least. As much as I’m a fish out of water with the phone call, taking the phone and holding it for myself seems like the best option possible.
“Uh, Mr. Brooks?” I finally ask as I take the receiver into my own hand.
Cap nods with a smile and a laugh and then sits down in my chair as Kline Brooks answers in my ear. “Yes?”
“I have…uh…I have Mr. Hawkins for you.”
“Thank you…”
“Ruby,” I supply when it’s clear he’s searching for my name. I never would have thought someone as successful as Kline Brooks was the kind of guy to worry about calling an assistant by name, but I guess that only proves you can’t assume things about people because they have a different life than you do.
Cap reaches up and takes the phone from me, putting it to his own ear nonchalantly. “Yeah. Liz’s out on maternity leave. Yeah, yeah. I know.” He pauses and laughs. “Oh God. Don’t you start too. You’re all a bunch of hogtied pricks.”
He puts his feet up on my desk and really relaxes, and I stand back in his doorway, unsure what to do with myself. My hands are like those robots that wander the grocery store aimlessly looking for spills. He laughs again, but thankfully, it’s not at me. He’s facing the other direction.
“Yeah, I’ll be there tonight. No, I know. For fuck’s sake, I told you I would, didn’t I? I’ve got three contracts in front of yours. It’ll be done tomorrow.”
He takes his feet off the desk and sits up straight before grabbing the small mirror someone else must have left behind on the desktop surface and angling it toward me.
Ah hell.
Immediately, I cease all robot-hand activity. Unfortunately, though, due to their locations at the time of eye contact, I have to settle for crossing my arms over my chest like I’m preparing to go down a water slide. I try to smile anyway, and Cap swivels around in the chair to face me.
“Because I’m fucking popular, Kline. I’m not sure why no one seems to understand that.”
Cap snorts, eyes still on me, and I do everything in my power to avoid meeting his gaze.
I glance to the right and down and up and to the left and back again as he continues to stare at me. But finally, I allow myself a small sliver of uncomfortable eye contact as he starts to speak again.
“I’m charming. I’m so goddamn charming, they’re thinking of replacing that leprechaun on the cereal box with me.”
I roll my eyes. Lord Almighty, could his ego be any bigger?
Cap notices my gesture and smiles.
“Fine. I’ll talk to you later.” He pauses and reaches out to me, taking me by the wrist. I startle and try to back away, but he holds on anyway, gently uncrossing my right arm and settling it by my side. I watch, transfixed then, as he leaves that one and does the same thing with my left.
That’s it, though. Verbally, he doesn’t acknowledge my awkwardness at all.
“Yes,” he groans before winking at me
. “I’ll call you as soon as it’s done. Love you too. Kisses.”
I jerk my head back as he barks a laugh. “I know you didn’t say it, but your never-ending affection for me is always implied, sweetheart.”
He hangs up the phone with a chuckle, no other words spoken, and takes a sudden step toward me. I flatten myself against his doorjamb at the unexpected motion.
His lip indents a little as he bites it on a smirk, and he stops so close to me that I can feel the heat of his minty breath on my face.
“Just push the hold button to hold the call,” he teases. “And then hit the intercom on the bottom right to tell me what line.”
Being this up close and personal with him has me noticing things I definitely shouldn’t be noticing. Like, his eyes sparkle as if they’re lined with glitter. And the way he smells, fresh and masculine, tempts me to lean forward and bury my nose in the collar of his shirt.
Dear God, Ruby. Don’t do that.
I’m overwhelmed and “Huh?” is the only thing I can manage as I struggle to form full thoughts.
“Transferring calls to me,” he explains, and his smirk curves into a smile and makes my chest inflate like a damn balloon. “It’s pretty simple, but I can show you if you need.”
I shake my head immediately. No, no. I don’t need any more close contact right now, thank you very much. “No, that’s all right. I’ll get it. I was just under the gun with him on the line.”
“Of course.”
“I’m good now.”
His responding smile is damn near blinding, and thankfully, he backs away just enough that my lungs start to function again.
“All right, then. I’ll be in my office.”
I force a half smile to my lips and nod.
He steps inside his office, and I move back over to my desk to gather my wits, just as the phone starts ringing…again.