Page 1 of Objection
1
Posey
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”
The entire law office went quiet as the conversation within the conference room grew loud enough to be heard in the bullpen where we all sat.
You could hear a pin drop. I rolled my eyes. I had called this from a mile away.
“OH, NO! I’LL TELL YOU EXACTLY WHERE YOU CAN SHOVE YOUR MEASLY PAY RAISE!” Mr. Wellington’s voice carried far with agitation and audacity. Their voices dropped into tersely murmured words that none of us could make out.
Soren Wellington was currently being considered for partner. Or had been considered, if the sounds from the conference room were anything to go by. Looks like I would be winning the bet. Us paralegals had placed a little wager on who would be named partner. Mr. Wellington, while being one of the younger attorneys in our office, should have been a shoe-in.
He was easily the hardest working attorney here, but the big wigs in our office didn’t care much about that. That’s why I had placed my bets on Graham Dalton. He was old, stuffy, and lazy as all get out. But, he was the same age as the partners and seemed to fit in. Graham had spent most of his life working in store management and had only taken the bar five years ago.
Wellington had seniority, but he was the young, pretty boy of the office. Dalton was the favorite, old and lazy just like the partners. It was a no brainer.
One glance towards Mr. Dalton’s office showed the smug man leaning against the door frame sipping a glass of what looked to be good whiskey or scotch. Asshole. Smug, smarmy asshole. As much as I had called this outcome, it didn’t make it right. But who was I to complain? It was a good job with benefits. Rare to find these days.
The conference room door slammed open, and Mr. Wellington stormed out, making it only halfway down the hall towards his office before calling out, “IN CASE IT WASN’T PERFECTLY FUCKING CLEAR, I QUIT!”
Wow, well, that escalated way more than I had thought. I didn’t pay attention to the way his dark blue eyes flashed with anger, or how his body seemed tense and firm. I most definitely didn’t pay attention to the way his ass looked in that suit. My favorite suit. The navy one, that seemed to match his eyes perfectly, with the crisp white oxford beneath it.
I shook the daydream from my head, keeping my eyes firmly affixed on my computer and put myself back to work.
I had worked for Farley, Cooper, & Upton for five years now. It wasn’t the best job in the world, especially working for old white men, but it paid decently and had enough benefits that I didn’t go into crazy medical debt just trying to survive. Such was the life of a middle-class twenty-something. I wasn’t about to screw up a good job and benefits over something as nearly unavoidable as working for dumb men.
After Mr. Wellington’s departure, the office erupted into the most awkward moment I could remember. The partners came out of the conference to announce to all of us that Mr. Dalton was now a partner. No one even mentioned Mr. Wellington's abrupt and dramatic departure until the very end of the day, when Jack Farley, the head honcho himself, pulled me aside and asked me to wrap up Mr. Wellington’s case files and deliver them to him immediately. Great, literally as I was on my way out of the door. I had my coat in hand, my purse on my shoulder, and Mr. Farley could easily see that my computer was already turned off.
Not like that mattered.
With a resigned sigh, I turned my computer back on and, with an apologetic look from Sandra, dove into the case files. I compiled a list of every case he was heading, their statuses, and work needed. I had half a mind to include the name of which associate attorney should take over, but decided that Jack wouldn’t appreciate that as much as he should. I emailed the spreadsheet, printing a copy to place on Jack’s desk, because the older the attorney, the more love for paper copies, before finally heading home — two hours later than planned.
All thanks to a rich, snobby, young, sexy attorney who justhadto quit today. No amount of sex appeal could forgive that.
Not that it mattered. I was very happy with my life. I had a good job, a stable boyfriend, and I was happy.
Boyfriend. Shit, David was going to be pissed.
* * *
SOREN
My knuckles groanedin blissful pain against the black synthetic leather of the punching bag, the chains tinkling with the force of my blow as the bag moved marginally. I had the bag affixed to both the ceiling and the floor, giving me additional resistance. I grounded my feet, using the strength of my entire body to propel my fist forward into the sand filled bag time and time again, my core clenched tight, my muscles activated and burning.
It would be better if I were flogging one of my submissives, but in the middle of the afternoon, this would have to suffice. Plus, that wasn’t the way to go about Domination. That was a good way to get your ass kicked out of the community. No using submissives to take out your anger. And I was fucking angry.
I was driven. I had worked hard to build myself into an incredible lawyer with a work ethic that rivaled anyone I came across. Everything in my life was handled the same: with order and precise, cutting determination. It served me well. Working for Jack Farley should have been my ticket. I had done it all according to plan. I finished law school at the top of my class, worked for two years with a prestigious Judge, took an associate’s position with Jack’s office and I worked. I worked hard, and I worked long hours. I had put in the time. There wasn’t a case I turned down.
Then along comes Dalton. Old, lazy Graham Dalton. The man had been hired a few years ago and was nothing more than a worthless pile of garbage. He didn’t understand law, barely passed the bar and was notorious in the office for pushing his work off to the last minute or worse, off on someone else. Sure, I couldn’t really talk about being notorious in the office. I was not easy to work with. I gave excellence, and I demanded the same from each and every person I worked with. Hell, over half the paralegals didn’t want to work with me. I knew it; they knew it. I didn’t take any offense to it, honestly. I wanted things done a certain way, and I needed to know the work would get done fast. Thank God for Ms. Adams.
Posey Adams was one of the mid-level paralegals at the firm, and, regardless of how much grief I gave her, she was one of the best the firm had. Jack should have promoted her years ago, but he kept her where she was. That was the main difference between me and Ms. Adams. Where I was hardworking, she matched me tit for tat. When ambition came into play, she slid off the rails. She did not seem to fight for her own worth. It didn’t really matter to me, just something I had noticed.
All of this didn’t matter now. Now, what mattered was where to go next. I could find a job at a new firm, though quitting a job never looked exactly good on a resume. I was still cringing at that decision. I had better control than that. My knuckles pounded against the punching back again once, twice, three times in rapid succession. I reveled in the ache my body felt. I would do better.
Going to another firm wouldn’t solve my issue. It wouldn’t fix the trajectory I was supposed to be on right now. There was truly only one real solution. Start my own firm. It was a ballsy move, but I was nothing if not innovative, and ballsy. I rested, catching my breath as I let my fingertips run over the letters on my chest. Laurel. She would tell me to just do it. To stop worrying about all the tiny little details and jump headfirst into the fray.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I finished up my workout, feeling deliciously sore and achy, and hit the showers. I had a business to build, and I didn’t want to waste another minute of time dicking around.
