He made me miss my fucking plane. I'd been so rattled when I'd arrived at the airport with barely enough time to get through security that I'd gone to the wrong gate. And even better than that, there wasn't another normal flight out until tomorrow afternoon. I was supposed to be back in the office tomorrow, ready to tell Mimi if I was putting in my two week notice or not. I had two options. I could take the redeye that left later that evening or call Mimi and tell her that I'd missed my flight and take an extra day's vacation, which would mean going back to the hotel to see if I could have my room back, or trying to find another one on my own dime. After what I'd said to Mr. Ricci, there was no way he could be serious about me still having the job.

And losing it didn't bother me at all. I didn't want to work with someone who'd told me he valued honesty, then lied about everything. He'd played me, manipulating the situation, trying to provoke whatever response it was his twisted little mind wanted. I still couldn't believe he'd hired Taylor to try to seduce me. I had to give Taylor credit for being convincing, I thought bitterly. I'd really thought he wanted me and finding out that it had all been a lie hurt.

I couldn't work with a person who cared that little about other people's feelings. Most people thought divorce lawyers were vicious, sharks who attacked when they smelled blood in the water. DeVon made us seem like cuddly puppies.

I bought my redeye ticket and went to the bar to wait. I had some time to kill, but I didn't want to risk being late again. Having a couple drinks while I called Carrie to ask her to pick me up sounded like a good idea.

“I thought you'd be in the air now,” Carrie said as soon as she answered.

She sounded out of breath and I wondered if she was busy moving boxes in her new office or if she and Gavin were enjoying their more flexible schedule to have a bit of afternoon fun.

“I missed my flight,” I said. “But I'm catching the redeye home.”

“What's wrong?” Her tone changed immediately. “You sound upset.”

“Pissed about my flight,” I said.

“You didn't get the job.” Carrie wasn't fooled by my explanation.

I sighed and took a sip of the drink I'd ordered. I wanted to down it in one go, but I had some time to kill and if I drank like that the whole time, I'd have to be carried onto the plane.

“No, I got it,” I said. “But I can't work for someone like that. He's a total perv.”

“A perv?” Now Carrie sounded mad as well as concerned and I mentally scolded myself. I should've known better. She was going to think DeVon was like our former client, Howard Weiss, who'd used and abused women before selling them as sex slaves. “What happened?”

“It's not what you think,” I said. “But he's an ass. I'll tell you the whole story when I see you.” And now came the real reason for my call. “Can you pick me up?”

“Sure,” Carrie agreed. “What time will you be in?”

“Three in the morning.”

“Shit,” she grumbled. “Guess it's a good thing I'm my own boss, right? I'll be there.”

“Thanks, Carrie,” I said.

“No problem. I'll see you then.”

We ended the call and I turned to the serious business of drinking and reading a new romance novel I'd downloaded a couple days ago. That, at least, should keep me distracted enough not to get too wasted. I just wanted to take the edge off, not be black-out drunk.

I was pleasantly buzzed by the time I was supposed to board the plane. I could walk without stumbling, speak without slurring my words, but I also wasn't feeling much of the tension from the past few days. Unfortunately, I wasn't relaxed enough to sleep on the plane. Every time I'd close my eyes, I'd get these images. Taylor trying to kiss me. DeVon on the couch in my hotel room, his shirt open enough to expose his six pack. The admiration in Taylor's eyes when he'd seen me in that dress. The heat in DeVon's eyes when he'd stopped me from leaving his office. None of these made for a pleasant flight.

I was exhausted by the time the plane landed and hoped that Carrie wasn't running late. I just wanted to go home and sleep. As soon as I stepped outside, I saw her car and gave a sigh of relief. I tossed my bag in the back and climbed into the passenger's seat. She leaned over to give me a quick hug before speaking.

“Spill.”

I didn't need her to clarify. I knew what she wanted to know. She started to drive and I started to talk. I was tired enough that what little filter I had between my brain and my mouth was gone, so I didn't hold anything back, including every detail of what I'd seen in my hotel room and the whole elaborate interview scheme. It wasn't until she started laughing that I realized how completely insane it all sounded.

“Wow,” she said when I finished. “He's completely crazy.”

I had to laugh at that. She was right.

“But,” she continued. “That probably makes him normal for Hollywood, right? We've all heard the stories.” She grinned at me. “Besides, I thought the crazy was part of the attraction for you.”

I glared at her, but wasn't really annoyed. This is why I needed Carrie. She and I helped each other not to take things so seriously all the time. “Funny,” I said. “You haven't met the guy, though.” I sighed. I had to be honest with her. “It'd be a much easier decision if he wasn't hot as hell. I don't think I can trust myself around him.”

Carrie's smile widened. “I can relate to that.”

I knew she could. For a while, we'd both thought Gavin was bad news and Carrie had been torn between what she'd wanted and what we thought was good for her.

“About the job, though,” she said. “Krissy, you have to follow your gut, but know that an opportunity like this doesn't come around very often. If you give this up because this DeVon guy can be kind of an ass, or because you think he's hot, will you be able to live with that decision?”

I didn't answer. She was right. If the job offer was still on the table, I would've had to consider that, but I doubted Mr. Ricci was going to keep pursuing me. Aside from the number of insults I'd thrown at him, I'd also flown back to New York without giving him an official answer. When I didn't show up later this morning, he'd figure it out.

“Whatever you do, I'll support you,” Carrie said as she pulled up in front of my building.

I nodded, thanked her for the ride and then headed upstairs. I didn't even bother to shower or undress. I kicked off my shoes, dropped my bag next to my bed and flopped down on the bedspread. This time, I didn't have any problem falling asleep.

My alarm woke me far too soon and I was in a daze as I showered and dressed. The apartment was quiet without Carrie there. Her things were all packed and ready to go this weekend, but she stayed with Gavin most nights anyway. She'd promised me this weekend, but a part of me wished she'd have stayed last night. It would've been nice to at least see her while I downed my first cup of coffee and headed out the door.

The caffeine was starting to kick in by the time I reached the coffee shop where I ordered my usual, but with an extra shot of espresso. I was going to be wired, but the alternative was sleepy and that wouldn't do. I had to prove to Mimi that I wanted to be there, even though I'd rather be on the West Coast, working for Mirage.

Mimi was on the phone when I got there so I just waved, then headed for my desk. Leslie and Dena smiled at me as I passed and I knew they'd want the scoop on what had happened, but I didn't want to go over it again just yet. I called out that I'd talk to them at lunch and continued to my desk. Since I'd technically been on vacation, there were memos and files waiting for me regarding cases I was assigned to, so I had plenty to keep me busy. I began to go through them, making a list of who I had to call back in order of importance.

I was in the middle of the list when my phone rang.

“Webster and Steinberg, Krissy Jensen speaking.”

“I thought we'd had an understanding.”

I froze. There was no way in hell that the voice on the other end of my phone was DeVon Ricci.

“You were supposed to be in my office this morning, not back in New York, pissing your life away as a divorce attorney.”

“What do you want?” I kept my voice low, not wanting anyone around me to think that I was talking to a client so rudely.

“I believe I made that quite clear,” he said. “I want you.”

I swallowed hard and shifted in my seat. He shouldn't have been able to make those three words, which were intended professionally, sound so sensual.

“I enjoyed our little games.”

My temper flared. “Games? You think it's funny playing with people like that? I'm not about to work for someone who manipulates people like some sort of demented puppet-master. People aren't toys for your amusement, jackass.”

He was silent for a minute and I thought that maybe I'd gone far enough that he'd back off. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

“How about I sweeten the deal?”

My eyebrows shot up. Was he serious? That's how he responded to me being rude?

“You'll have your own office with your own PA. I'll personally oversee your training and slowly assign clients to you as I see you're ready.”

“Why me?” I asked the question that had been nagging at the back of my mind since I'd gotten the offer. “Why in the world would you make an offer like this to someone like me? I have no experience, no qualifications.”

“You're a Columbia graduate who passed the bar,” he said. “I wouldn't sell yourself short.”

Now he was just making fun of me. “I don't have any experience in your field. The legal department, sure, but not as an agent.”

“You're more than qualified,” he said. “Compared to most agents, you're overqualified. Your contract skills will help you when you're negotiating with clients and production companies. Rather than needing a lawyer to look over everything, you'll be able to do it all on your own.”

Okay, he had a point there, but if that was the case, why didn't he only hire lawyers?

He answered my question without me having to ask it. “That's one reason, but you have other qualities that make you a valuable asset in an agent position. You have people skills and intuition. Those combined with your legal skills are a lethal cocktail.”

I had to admit, I was relieved that he had good reasons to want to hire me, but I was still wary. The perks were appealing, the location ideal and as much as I loved straight law, the position sounded like a lot of fun. I just wasn't sure I could handle having him as my boss. It would've been hard enough if I'd been in the legal department under Mr. Duncan, but now Mr. Ricci was saying he'd be training me directly.

“You have nothing to lose,” he said. “Give it a week and if you don't like it, start looking somewhere else. No hard feelings.”

I closed my eyes. Carrie's advice floated back to me. If I turned him down without at least trying, I'd never be able to stop wondering 'what if.'

“Okay.”

“Excellent.”

I could almost hear the smug smile.

“You start on Monday.”

“Wait, I can't,” I protested. “I have to put in a notice, give Mimi time–”

“I've already taken care of it,” he said. “You'll spend today and tomorrow dividing up your work and getting other associates and paralegals up to speed. I expect to see you in my office at eight a.m. first thing next week.”

“Oh, okay.” I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say to that. “I'll see you then, Mr. Ricci.”

“It's DeVon,” he said before the call ended.

I sat, staring at the phone for almost a full minute. DeVon. What the hell had I gotten myself into?