His smug smile, wider than Texas where he waltzed in from, is one I want to wipe right off his devilish face.
“Why Miss Alcott, you seem to be getting worked up over nothing, whereby putting your panties in a twist. I guess your father sees something in me you apparently don’t.”
It stings. Dad didn’t give the position to me. I completed my bachelor’s degree nine months ago, and I’m currently in graduate school—hoping to be the biggest asset to this firm. I thought after obtaining my degree and working here full-time, as opposed to the part-time work I had done here since high school, he’d entrust me with this project. After all, I’m the reason we got the damn thing!
I’m not even touching the panty-twisting comment.
“Maybe he wanted to challenge you because you’re not pulling your weight around here. And what better way than to make you prove yourself.” I throw the pathetic gibe his way.
It sounds like a lame excuse even to my own ears, and he won’t even rise to the occasion, I bet; my dad would never—ever—do that. You acquire a lead position on the contract if you’re qualified—plain and simple. It’s hard for me to accept this, hence the need to take it out on Jamison and bite his head off.
“El, in the six months I’ve been employed here, I’ve more than proven myself. You just can’t handle the truth, nor can you handle the fact that you’re not in charge—especially not in charge of me. You like control, and it scares you not to have it. Maybe you need to loosen up.”
He gives me a knowing look, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s hinting at my twisted panties again. The nerve! He’s such a jackass.
I swear he hears my inner rant because his brows lift in question, and he’s goading me further. Even with me knowing what he’s doing, I have enough restraint to not give in and make an ass of myself like he so easily does. He’s a bastard. Why can’t my father see it?
“I don’t need to loosen anything,” I huff.
When he laughs, I want to take the staple remover sitting innocently on his desk and jab him with it. Jamison’s thirty-year-old age and experience has nothing on my young twenty-two. I’ve been groomed for this job since birth when Dad started the business.
We do it all at this firm. Cybersecurity, programming and decoding, web design and development, and the list of information technology offerings goes on. We’re a multi-faceted IT unit, equipped to meet any and all needs in the field. Our firm is in high demand because we’re the best and have a long list of high-profile clientele. If you’re an employee here, you’re a team player and produce top-notch work.
My father—Alexander Alcott III—must’ve lost his mind, not only in hiring this tool, but also with awarding him a career-changing project. Working closely with the military is something I’ve always wanted to do. Our company has managed plenty of projects for government agencies, but operating on a military installation is something exciting; normally we do things in-house, utilizing remote access. This particular hybrid venture entails our team conducting the scope of work on the military base itself.
My interest and desire for this project has nothing to do with the men in uniform and everything to do with delving into a different source of cyber activity. Although, looking at the men in uniform is a bonus—as a young woman, I can appreciate those I come in contact with. For me, though, work always comes first, and men come last—or not at all, since I don’t date.
If I didn’t loathe working alongside Jamison so much, I might even go as far as to say he’s handsome. Dark hair, dark eyes, a scruff-lined jaw, tall with a muscular build, and a chiseled nose and chin. But his womanizing ways, cockiness, and general know-it-all attitude make him unappealing, to say the least.
“James, just look over the damn terms and make sure you know it frontwards and backwards—I already do. And if…no, when you fail, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces and represent Alcott. Good luck, rookie, you’re gonna need it.”
Spinning on my knock-off designer heels with the faux red lining under the shoe—I don’t need the real-deal footwear—I exit his office without a second glance. He hates when I refer to him as a rookie. He may not deserve that distinction considering he’s been working full-time in the industry longer than me, but he’s still a rookie in my eyes when it comes to doing things the Alcott Way.
Making my way down the hall to get to my office, I’m anxious to devour a much-needed cup of coffee. Rebecca—the company flirt, or I like to think of her as the female version of James—passes by me, grazing my shoulder unapologetically. Her long chestnut-brown hair caresses her shoulders in silky waves, and her lashes are coated with more mascara than what could possibly fit in a brand-new tube of the product. She’s one of our secretaries who floats around the office wherever her services may be needed. I have no use for her skills and prefer Deb, the much more mature receptionist we also have on staff.
“Needed somewhere, Rebecca?” I ask her with sarcasm in my tone as I turn toward her.
“Always, El. I do my job thoroughly, in case you didn’t notice.”
Ha, I bet!
As I’m rolling my eyes at her, she proceeds to smooth her silky hair in response and continues on her quest. Rebecca’s fuchsia lipstick looks freshly applied, and she smirks at me over her shoulder before heading toward James’s door. I knew it!
There’s no doubt they’re going to be in there flirting and practically fucking just through the art of conversation—him doing what he does best. Work is not on his mind, and this is what I was fearful of when Dad made the choice on this project. His behaviors are worrisome. This is a prestigious firm. People are beating down the door to get in here. Maybe my dad took pity on James, and he’s more or less his pet project or charity case of some sort. Whatever the circumstance, I can’t imagine he’ll last much longer here. I’ll see to it.
It’s disgraceful the way he shamelessly flirts with all the girls—employees and clients alike. I’ve mentioned it to Dad, and he says it’s harmless, and I’m reading too much into it. I’ve checked with HR, and they haven’t received any complaints. Having no problem confronting James, I asked him about it a few months back. He told me, “What can I say? I’m a charming guy. What you misconstrue as flirting, Miss Alcott, I just call being personable. You should try it sometime.”
He’s a real piece of work and makes my blood boil. My dad has told me on several occasions to concentrate on my work and stop worrying about what James is doing or not doing—it’s easier said than done. I feel like the man’s babysitter. Of course, he does get his work done, and the projects are always completed by the deadline, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still need to be watched.
He thinks he’s got it all figured out—me included. He doesn’t know me, and he won’t ever get the chance to.
2
Jamison
She’s positively infuriating. She’s irritating. And if she wasn’t so damn beautiful, I couldn’t for the life of me understand how any man would ever want to be near her, let alone date her. That Elodie is something else!