"You were always ambitious, but you're lazy. It takes a lot more than tail wagging and ass-kissing to get where you want to be in life. If they instructed you to bring those files for me to review, that tells me there's no credit to give. I've been brought back for a reason." The insults scald my throat, and my stomach rolls with self-disgust.
That was cold, even for the Prada Princess. I don't dare look at Miller for fear of facing his disappointment.
"You are a royal bitch." Lena drops the files, papers fanning across the desk.
"Hmm, so I've heard. Leave them and I'll send word when I'm ready to go over them with you."
"I suppose sleeping with Brock didn't hurt your climb up the ladder."
"My relationship with Brock was over a long time ago. Not that it's any of your business. If you think sleeping with him furthered my career, maybe you should have tried it."
Pain and rejection slash across her features, and I know I've hit an already severed nerve. She went after Brock and he dismissed her, prodding her to the judge.
She came in here ready for a fight and ready to unleash her resentment, but in this moment, she's wounded and struggling. Out of nowhere, it hits me; this may be a far stretch but I take my chance.
"This will all be over soon and I'll be gone. But in the future, if you want to get my attention, contact me directly and say what you want to say. Don't send me cryptic messages from an untraceable phone number with indolent threats."
The tension in the room ricochets up to top-notch. Miller's growl rumbles from his chest.
"I don't know what you're talking about." The slight tremble in her denial confirms my guess.
"You can go now," I dismiss her, dropping my attention to the papers strewn on the desk.
As soon as the door shuts with force, I allow my knees to give out and sink into the chair. Both men remain quiet, staring at me, and I breathe in and out until the waves of nausea pass.
"That was unpleasant," I whisper, swallowing the emotions clogged in my throat.
Silence.
"No quick wit or inappropriate comment from you?" I direct the question to Scottie.
He shakes his head. "The intuition part of my brain is in awe. How the hell did you figure all that out? I was in the same room and didn't pick up on it."
"You're missing the gender perception. Lena was ambitious, and though she was overlooked a lot, she was never bitter. Disappointed, yes, but not bitter. She may have been promoted to associate, but it didn't come without a price. As a woman, I saw the betrayal in her. She did what they asked, and even through that, they don't trust her expertise. Me being here proves it. She has no credibility."
"And the text?" Miller inquires.
"That was a pure hunch and a risk. Knowing I was right about her sleeping with the judge to win over favoritism, and knowing Brock rejected her, gave me an edge. She surged in here with a mission to prove she deserved proper recognition and respect. I threw her off her game with the touch of compassion about the judge. She pretended to ignore you both, but there was a moment when she glanced at Miller. She knew who he was to me and she knew why I left."
Scottie lets out a low whistle, massaging the back of his neck. "We've been in these offices less than half an hour, and I'm ready to wash the stench off."
"It's weird being back here. The desk looks like it did when I left, except it's been cleaned. This is even my old laptop." My eyes fall to the computer that has a distinguishable scratch across the top.
"Princess," Miller crouches next to me. "You okay?"
"Yes, but years of closing off my heart and emotions are overwhelming me."
"That's because you finally flushed that out of your system."
I look him over, the polished loafers, impeccable navy suit undeniably custom made for his body, the starched cream oxford open at the neck that fits him like a glove, showing off his physique. His blue eyes, the cleanly shaved face, his messy-yet-sexy hair.
The good, the bad, the ugly… This man is mine.
I scrape my fingertips along the soft skin of his jaw. "I want the scruff back."
"It'll grow."
"I love you. Thank you for being here."
His eyes light up, dancing with humor. "How bad did that hurt?"
"The words are an incinerating inferno in my throat."
"Good." He leans in but is stopped when Scottie steps between us.
"Any reason your ass is in my face?"
"Yes, you both need to focus! There's work to do. By the way, my ass is a work of art."
My head snaps up to find a very serious Scottie invested in his tablet.
I lean back, covering my mouth, and try to stifle my laugh.
"Nothing funny here, Ashlyn," Miller grumbles, standing to full height and scowling.
"Yes, nothing funnier than Scottie stopping you for a kiss with his ass." I giggle.
"Dior Diva, I need focus." Scottie sends me a no-nonsense glare. "According to my network, this place is imploding. Three wives have shown, storming into offices and demanding divorces. This shit is streaming everywhere. Bitches are vicious, videos included." He turns the screen to face me.
The video playing is grainy, faces blurred out, and the audio is nothing, but it's clear to see a woman tearing into the man. I recognize this as taking place down the hall in one of the corner offices.
"He's a partner in the firm, he's a jerk, and he's been sleeping with two of the junior associates for the last year."
"Well, that makes sense why these two profiles have been going at it in the message room." Scottie pulls the tablet back and scrolls, turning it back to me.
Another video, taken from an odd angle but easy to interpret what's happening.
