“Well, I think this position is a lot better suited over research aide,” I rebutted, my cheeks flaming angrily. I got that I wasn’t Jacob Whitmore, but her stank attitude was rubbing me all sorts of wrong. “Is there something I could do for you?”
She gave me a smile so frigid that I literally shivered. “Actually, yes. I have some paperwork for you to sign.”
I followed her back to the main executive lobby, holding my tongue and trying to remember my whole being respectful and non-confrontational pact I made with myself, but it was hard to swallow Jacob’s secretaries outright disapproval of me. Even as a secretary, she had more social and political capital at Whitmore and Creighton than I did and I needed someone on my side besides the boss if I wanted a pleasant tenure at the company.
I picked at straws, trying to find any common ground that I could stick a white flag on. Her head was bowed as she picked through documents on her desk, a flash of green glittering in her ears.
“Your earrings are so pretty,” I offered with a shaky smile. “Are you a Gemini?”
She didn’t even acknowledge my attempt at a compliment, instead, holding out a manila folder. “If you could just sign on the dotted line, I can process it and you can go to the job you worked so tirelessly for.”
I accepted it with a scowl, not missing the sarcastic tint to her words. I expected paperwork for insurance and benefits. But there was no escaping what I saw with my own two eyes. The documents detailed the forfeiture of my position as Jacob’s personal assistant and a new position as a staff publicist.
My hands, lips, and voice trembled as I read over the bold font over and over again. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“This transfer was approved by Mr. Whitmore, Miss Montgomery. Surely this isn’t news.”
My eyes flashed as I brought them from the paper to her face. “And I’m telling you there’s been a mistake.”
“A mistake?”
Was there an echo in here? “Yes! I didn’t agree on or ask for any new position.”
“Ah,” she said with a slight, crisp nod. “Just the original promotion from research assistant to personal aide to the CEO then.”
I snapped the folder shut and held it back out to her. “I won’t be needing this.”
“I’d suggest holding on to it,” she said with a patronizing smirk. “I think we both know that whatever Jacob wants, Jacob gets.”
The first thought that ran through my head was to rip it up and make it rain all over her smug head, but I just gripped the folder tight and turned on my heels, marching back to my office. I was strapped to a rollercoaster of emotions; careening over fury, dipping into shame, and upside down and disappointed.
I told him how important it was that I work my way toward any other positions. I told him I would never respect myself otherwise and Natasha’s treatment of me was proof positive that my colleagues wouldn’t respect me either. From the contract that changed my life to the paparazzi snapping pictures left and right, I had very little control. But I could put my foot down here. I could control this.
He answered the phone after one ring, his husky voice almost making me forget that I was furious with him. “Miss me already?”
"Jacob we need to talk."
"I agree," he said without missing a beat. "You snuck out of here without a word. After I thought we'd reach an understanding."
"I told you I was going to the office today.”
"And I told you I wanted another day with you." His voice took on a hungry note that made me tingle. "We still have surfaces to christen."
I fell as silent as if he'd just ordered me so, practically salivating at the thought of us laid out on his dining room table.
"I still haven’t shown you the powder rooms or the Persians with your backside written all over them…”
I found my voice, but it was a tiny, hesitant thing. "No, Jacob."
"Stubborn today I see." A chuckle rippled through the speaker and echoed over my body. "I have the perfect cure for that."
"No." I reined in the part of me that ached for him. The part that could just fade into him if he only asked. "I didn't call you to have phone sex or be coerced back to your high rise penthouse of bdsm." When he snickered I added, "Or to not be taken seriously."
"Then why did you call, Miss Montgomery?"
I ignored the way he teasingly said my name and focused on the manila folder in my hand. "Why is your secretary handing me transfer paperwork to sign?"
"It's just a formality really," he said smoothly. "I've already talked with Mrs. Joy and she's prepared an office for you whenever you're ready."
I held the phone away from my ear for a moment. Was this the Twilight Zone? "Maybe you're still jet-lagged, but we've already had this discussion. I don't want you to pull any strings and promote me, Jacob."
I heard him shuffling around, probably pacing back and forth in front of one of his floor to ceiling windows. Throwing daggers toward the Whitmore and Creighton building. "I thought you'd be pleased."
"I never find it pleasing to be completely ignored, Jacob."
"Completely ignored?" His tone hardened to a razor's edge. "I hardly think giving you your dream job qualifies as completely ignoring you."
"I don't need you to give me anything!" I said indignantly. "It's bad enough that I got the fast track on day one, but how can I face them or myself if I know that I only got this because I'm your girlfriend?"
"Okay you need to take a breath and calm down-"
"Do not patronize me," I growled into the receiver. "Don't you dare."
The pause did give me time to draw a ragged breath and exhale but it did no good. With everyone in the world looking at me, judging me and thinking the worse, how could he do something that just validated their suspicions? And after I told him how important it was!
"I'm not signing any paper,” I said acidly. “Unless it's my god damn resignation."
"Is that right?" His voice was tight with anger of his own. "You'll quit because I dared to defy you? Because I did what was best for you?"
"No I'll quit because you don't respect me," I spat. "Because in this building, in my career, I am not your submissive." I shook my head with disgust. Why was I even bothering? "You have a lot of nerve, Jacob Whitmore."
The controlled tone in his voice was fading as his volume increased. "God damn it, Leila why are you fighting me on this? You know you'd be great at it. You'd rather trail around with me writing memos and getting coffee instead of living your dream? Toil in the trenches just so you can say you've earned your stripes?"