Shoving that all aside for the moment, I focused on my lunch and making the most of the rest of the week. If Mr. Chamberlain accepted my two-week notice, maybe I’d have more time, but I didn’t see that happening.
On the plus side, all the people who were still angry about being looked over for my position would have another shot. Although, if Mr. Chamberlain had looked them over once before, I didn’t think they had a good chance a second time, or thinking of all the secretaries I’d heard Mr. Chamberlain had been through in the last few months, a fifth or sixth time.
A lot of people at the law firm coveted my position. Being Mr. Chamberlain’s secretary would have given many of them a leg up in the game. While it would have been a demotion in some cases, it would have given them access to one of the partners at the prestigious law firm. It would have allowed them to prove themselves to Mr. Chamberlain and make or break their career.
And then there were some, I thought as I took another bite of my soup and watched Chrissy Matheson walk confidently off the elevator and toward Mr. Chamberlain’s office without dignifying me with a glance, that wanted it for other reasons.
I might not have made friends in the office, but I’d still managed to hear most of the gossip. I was slight, and people tended to overlook my presence.
The tall, blue-eyed, bottle-dyed blonde was more than jealous of my position. She wanted Mr. Chamberlain for herself. When I’d heard it straight from her mouth what she’d do once becoming his secretary, I’d had to force down the ball of anxiety and jealousy that had formed in my gut.
It wasn’t that she had real feelings for him or respected him as a person. Oh no, Chrissy Matheson didn’t let a little thing like feelings get in the way of her ambition. No, she wanted my job to get close to him and snag his attention by any means necessary. She wanted to insinuate herself into his life and his bed, get his ring on her finger, and her name on the sign out front.
That I was the one sitting outside his office, making his coffee, and running his errands aggravated her to no end. I was a thorn in her side, and she wasn’t shy in letting me know it. Of course, I wouldn’t be here much longer. I was going to have to find some way of letting Mr. Chamberlain now about her scheming before I left.
Placing my spoon on the edge of my plate, I calmly stood and intercepted her. “Excuse me, can I help you?”
“Oh,” she said in her fake, syrupy-sweet voice as she came to a stop, unwilling to plow right into me. “I didn’t see you there.”
I gave her my customary blank face, disinclined to play her little game. I waited for her to answer me.
“Right.” She adjusted the hem of her blazer over her skirt and drew back her shoulders with puffed-up confidence. “I have a meeting with Nolan.”
And there it was, the number one thing I disliked about her. She called him by his first name as if she had some right to claim it. I refused to let her know how much I despised her use of his name in such a cavalier manner because if she knew, she would only go out of her way to use it all the time. I ignored the small voice that told me I wouldn’t have to worry about her for much longer.
“You’re not on Mr. Chamberlain’s schedule,” I said without checking, having memorized his calendar for the entire week.
Stalker. Cough. Stalker.
She laughed, waving her hand dismissively. “Oh, he’ll want to see me.”
I ignored her. “I can schedule you for an appointment next week,” I lied. The only way I was putting her name on his schedule was if she had a legitimate reason to meet with him or if he asked me personally. Otherwise, there was no way in hell I was letting her into his office so she could interrupt his day with her flirting. “What was the reason for your appointment? So I can make a note of it in his schedule.”
She huffed, obviously unable to come up with a reason on the spot. Chrissy wasn’t involved with any of Mr. Chamberlain’s cases. She was a low-level paralegal who barely had a reason to be on the upper floor as it was.
“This is ridiculous.” She took a step toward me as if to intimidate me. Little did she know, I’d faced more intimidating submissives when compared to her. “Who’s going to stop me from just going in? You?”
“No,” I said, refusing to be bullied by her. “If you want to barge into Mr. Chamberlain’s office after I have advised against it, I won’t stop you. But you’ll have to be the one to explain to Mr. Chamberlain why you are in his office interrupting him and his work. And I can assure you, if you think to engage in idle chitchat with him, he will not be pleased. He’s not one for mindless banter,” I said, having no idea if that was the truth or not. For all I knew, at work, he was a focus-driven machine, but outside, he was a notorious gossip. I mean, it didn’t sound right, but what did I really know about the man?
I mean, I was a straight-laced, professional secretary by day and a lace-wearing, servant boy who liked to prance around half-naked while serving drinks at a BDSM club by night. You never really could tell much about a person by looks alone. For all I knew, Mr. Chamberlain was a submissive who liked to get spanked by women in latex while they called him a dirty boy.
Actually, that sounded more believable than him being a gossip did. Many people in high-powered jobs had so much riding on their shoulders, so much stress and control, that BDSM gave them a release, a time and place where all their worries disappeared. Did I want Mr. Chamberlain to be submissive? Fuck. No. Would I understand it if he was? 100%.
“Fine,” she said, realizing I wasn’t going to budge. Turning on her heel, she walked back to the elevators that would take her back down and stabbed the button with a long nail. I waited until the doors closed on her sullen glower before returning to my desk and my lunch.
Naturally, the second I took a large bite of my roast beef sandwich, the door behind me opened. I thought about swallowing my bite whole and then immediately pictured Mr. Chamberlain performing the Heimlich maneuver as I choked. It wasn’t a pretty sight, to be sure. Chewing as fast as I could, I looked over my shoulder and gave him an apologetic look.
Seeing my wooden tray and my empty dishes in his hands, I briefly wondered who would look after him once I was gone. Not my business, I said to myself as I stood and approached him, reaching for the tray. “Let me take that for you, Mr. Chamberlain.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up the tiniest bit. It was as close to a smile as I’d ever seen him make. “How many times will I have to tell you to call me Nolan?”
I smiled, relaxing and falling into the little inside joke that had formed between us even if he didn’t know the real reason I refused to call him by name. “At least once more, Mr. Chamberlain.”
I held his empty tray in my hands and took a moment to study his features once more. He was all sharp angles and harsh lines. His cheekbones were high and slashed across his face, much like his mouth. His cold, gray eyes and short, black hair only served to add to his austere appearance. I focused on the little brown freckle that graced the side of his jaw. I found my eyes returning to it often, finding the small flaw endearing. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to kiss it.
Giving myself a mental slap, I turned and placed his tray on my desk. I’d return it to the break room as soon as I finished my lunch.
“I wanted to thank you again for bringing me lunch. It was delicious.”