"Ms Miller, I'd very much like you to reconsider," Michael said, leaning even closer as I forced my fingers to type something. Anything.
I resisted the magnetic pull of his eyes and kept my eyes glued to the screen.
"And I'd very much like you to leave," I replied. "I have work to do."
"You don't want to do this kind of work. I know you."
A flare of anger burst through my self-control and I turned to face Michael.
"You do not know me," I hissed. Then after a moment, looking him up and down, I added, "And I most certainly do not know you."
I was surprised that this almost seemed to sting Michael, as if I'd let loose an errant arrow and somehow found the one weak spot in the belly of the dragon.
Michael quickly gathered himself together, stood to his full height, squared his shoulders, and cleared his throat as he adjusted the knot of his silk tie. I returned to my work but couldn't stop myself from glancing at what he was doing out of the corner of my eye.
I scoffed when he pulled his wallet from his back pocket.
"Really?" I laughed. "You're really going to try to buy me off?"
Michael remained silent as he slowly and methodically pulled hundred after hundred out of the billfold of his wallet. Mr Pinkman watched with growing curiosity, licking his lips like the crisp bills were crisp slices of bacon. I rolled my eyes as the hundreds kept coming, one after the other.
"There is no amount that you could pay me that would make me come back and work for you," I said. "You're wasting your time."
Michael hesitated, glanced at the small stack in his hands, and then licked his thumb before pulling out even more. It had to be several thousand. And Michael just kept going.
"I'm not taking that," I said as Michael finally finished and still without a word, tucked his wallet back into the pocket of his expensive slacks. "Michael, I am not taking that."
"I'm not giving it to you," he said, not even bothering to look in my direction.
I had just enough time to frown at him in confusion before Michael turned to face Mr Pinkman, spread out the bills alluringly, and waved them in front of his face as if ringing a dinner bell.
"Fire her," he said, as if commanding a dog to sit in order to receive his treat.
"Excuse me?" I blurted out, absolutely incredulous of Michael's nerve. "Mr Pinkman just hired me, there is no way in hell that he is—"
My sentence cut off abruptly when my boss suddenly reached out and snatched the money from Michael's hand. He turned to me and said, "You're fired," before scurrying off to his desk like a rat racing toward his dark, dank hole in the wall.
My chair fell behind me as I shoved myself to my feet and slammed my hands on the desk.
"You can't do that," I protested. "That's illegal."
Michael slipped his hands nonchalantly into his pockets as he turned toward me.
"That's illegal," I repeated, seeing red around the edges of my vision as my fingers tightened into fists.
"Oh, very," Michael said, nodding casually, his voice lacking any trace of emotion. "It's practically the definition of illegal."
I opened my mouth to argue before his words sank in along with the surprising realisation that he was agreeing with me. Michael sat calmly on the edge of my desk and crossed his leg, speaking as he inspected his cuticles.
"You could definitely go hire a lawyer, pay the retainer, pay the fees, spend your time and effort. You most certainly have a very strong case," he said, frowning at a hangnail before continuing as I stood in stunned silence. "But the thing is you don't get to be perhaps the best corporate attorney in the world without learning how crippling a pile of paperwork can be."
I started to sink slowly back into my desk chair.
"I, and the multi-national, multi-billion-dollar law firm behind me, will file so much paperwork to delay your case that you'll blow through your life savings in a week."
My shoulders slumped as I realised he had me beat. This Michael really was different; he was ruthless, he was uncaring, he was wicked. Michael glanced back at me over his shoulder.
"So you could go down that path of crippling debt and creditors chasing after you all hours of the day, or you could come back and work for me," he said as if we were in a boardroom and we were negotiating. "Come back and work for me for double whatever your salary was."
I wished my eyes hadn't widened in surprise the way they did when Michael added this last little juicy caveat. But I wished most of all that he hadn't seen it. I didn't want him to know that I was strapped for cash. I didn't want him to know that he had that power over me. I didn't want him to know that I was the mouse in the cat's flashing claws and there was no escape now.
I looked across the messy office toward Mr Pinkman, who was counting his newly acquired cash, spreading it across his desk, bill by bill, as if he planned on stripping naked and rolling around in it. As far as he was concerned, I no longer existed; he'd find the next mildly attractive, financially struggling woman to prey on without much trouble. There was no job here. If I refused Michael's offer
