Page 21 of Mr. July

“Chase,” she panted as if she’d just run a 5k.

“Where’s the presentation?” My voice was curt, clipped. I felt her gaze on me through my glass office wall, but I refused to meet it.

“I-I…”

“Lauren?” Her name was a bullet firing from my mouth.

“I spilled the coffee I brought you on it. I blotted everything…”

“And this was?”

“An hour ago.”

“You didn’t think to tell me? Clear out your desk. I’ll contact your temp agency. Your services are no longer required.”

“Please—” I hung up on her plea. I didn’t have time for it. Instead, I went to my inbox where I had emailed her everything, opened the file and hit print. I’d make the copies myself. My notes, however, were gone. From now on, I’d have to screen shot copies of my own notes. Lauren was my second PA this year. It’s become a running joke in the office that I can’t keep one long. Hence, the need to use a temp agency. I stormed past her desk on my way to the copy room where the industrial printing was collating and stapling my copies. “Chase! Please!”

I felt her hand on my forearm. Looking down at her five brightly painted nails, I growled. “It’s Mr. Carmichael. Please remove your hand from my arm.” I took my copies striding out past her tear-streaked face.

Ten minutes late, I strode into the boardroom. As I sank down into my seat, I whiffed the scent of her perfume on my pressed white shirt. “Carmichael,” the CEO addressed me.

“Sorry, I’m late. I had to let my PA go.”

“Another one?” This time the CFO snorted, lifting his brows. There were a few ways I could play this. I was the newest senior level guy, beating out coworkers with more tenure. More than confident, I deserved it, while knowing there were others who had it out for me. I gave a wolfish grin, “You know how it is. Have to be careful in the workplace. It’s not my fault they all get crushes. Highly inappropriate, and I would never do anything to risk the firm’s reputation.”

They ate it up. Grinned like motherfuckers. “I envy you Carmichael. What I wouldn’t give to be in my prime again.” Fincham, one of the other senior partners, laughed. He was in his fifties, overweight with thinning hair.

Ignoring his comment, I passed out the presentations, the paper still warm from the copy machine. I cleared my throat, rolled up my sleeves and got to work like a boss.

At the end of my workday, I took the elevator down to the parking garage stopping short at the sight of Lauren loitering by my car. I waited to approach until more people came down. I didn’t know what she was up to, but I wouldn’t be cornered without witnesses. I called out to her while still twenty feet away.

“Mr. Carmichael. I’m so sorry. Please give me another chance.”

I shook my head. “Sorry, I can’t. If you had just told me immediately, and re-did the presentations, I would have had time to re-do my notes. By panicking you showed me you can’t be trusted. And I don’t expect PA’s to fetch me coffee.”

“I thought I’d save you a trip. I was just trying to be helpful.” I bite my tongue. Sure, she was, like the time, I had asked her to take some files down the hall. She pretended to trip, intentionally dropping everything, just so she could get on her knees, raising her backside overly high, probably hoping I’d enjoy the view. If I was Hunter, I would’ve had her naked on day two. But I wasn’t Hunter. I was a new partner and determined to act like one.

“I should’ve fired you weeks ago.” I muttered under my breath.

“I really need work. Please just give me one more chance?” She licked her pouty lips. She was a looker. Even if her makeup was a bit strong. Her breasts were round and full, hips just wide enough to be curvy while her frame was still slender. My dick didn’t even twitch. Maybe Hunter was right. Maybe something was wrong with me. My libido was missing in action. “You want me, don’t you? Is that it? I tempt you so much you had to fire me?”

“I’ll call the agency. I’m sure you’ll find work. Excuse, me.” I clicked the unlock button on my Tesla, hoping she wouldn’t try to climb in. Hours later, while looking over contracts in bed, I took a break to check my social media. I had one new follower on Instagram. Lauren Newell. I also had a new private message. It was her, in the same red shoes she had worn to work and nothing else. I whistled. She was a looker. My cock finally stirred. I deleted her message blocked her, then changed all my social media account’s privacy settings. I leaned back against the headboard. I really needed to get laid. I logged into the dating app… clicking through a few profiles. Settling on one, I clicked in, asking her for drinks on Wednesday. I didn’t waste time, just asked her to read my bio and where to meet.

She responded in less than an hour. Grinning, as we exchanged flirty messages, then pictures…I forgot all about my former PA’s body as I checked out pictures of my date’s bare legs from mid-thigh down. She was also in bed doing work… we already had a lot in common. Then I emailed the temp agency, requesting a new PA. Since PA’s have been revolving doors in my office, I decided to make a list of traits I was looking for: responsible, seasoned, punctual, preferably married. Wait no, I should scratch that out. An unhappily married PA might harass me. Satisfied with my short list I hit send.

Eight

My eyes narrowed as I scanned the documents on my desk, “And there it is. You mothers.” Hidden under a sub clause of a sub clause were two sentences that would screw my firm over if they signed. It stated if the fund doesn’t perform at a twenty-percent yield—the money managing firm would get a pay back of original funds.

Fuck no.

That’s not how this worked.

I reached for my highlighter, grasping air.

It was gone.

I opened my drawers. None.

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