“Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?”

“I didn’t want to burst your cohab bubble.”

Payton’s sigh was audible over the phone as I tugged on tights. “Of course I’ll be a reference.”

“Great. Because I already included you.”

“What are you applying to?”

“Assistant jobs. Bartending. The post office.”

“The post office? Come on. That’s not you.”

“I don’t have a fancy degree like you, Payton. My options are limited. But I have an interview in thirty minutes.”

“And you’re preparing?”

“Trying to decide what the line is between cleavage and Nipplegate. Yes.” I unbuttoned another button. The pink of my bra peeked out.

An hour later, I shifted on my bar stool as a guy looked over my resume. Then my outfit.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

“You look older.”

“Super.”

“Nah, I mean. You’ve got the look.”

“To be clear, these—” I cupped my tits and his eyes widened “—are for display only. Not for sale. To you or the customers.”

He lifted his hands. “Fair enough. The college kids will still love you. You got references?”

“I hostessed here before starting my last job.” I scrawled a name on the paper and he frowned.

“They’ve been out of business for two years. Anyone else?”

I slid over Payton’s extension. “Yeah. I worked for her until recently.”

“Aright. We’ll give a call over and get back to you.”

* * *

A few people looked over my cubicle wall as I packed up my desk. I flashed a bland smile. For some reason I couldn’t tell people I’d been fired.

The call came through just as I finished packing my desk and my spider plant, Trevor. (Because all living things deserve names.)

“Charlie. It’s Evan, from this morning. Listen, I shouldn’t be telling you this. But you seem like you need the work, so…there’s no way I can hire you based on the reference I got. You might want to change that before you apply anywhere else.”

I stumbled down the hall—cursing as my pink Louboutins sank into the wet patch of carpet—and into Payton’s office.

“Hey. Did you get a call for a reference?”

Her brows drew together. “Nope.” She hit a few buttons on her work phone. “Weird. Maybe messages are still going to switchboard since I was away last week.”

“Then who the hell would they have gone to…?”

Storm clouds gathered over my head.

Second rule of survival: Never underestimate your opponent.

I strode down the hall, fists clenched at my sides. I might not’ve looked like a warrior in the sleeveless, low-cut silk blouse and tight pencil skirt, but I was ready for battle.

“What did you say to them?”

I addressed the question to the slice of head visible over the top of the computer screen in Avery’s office.

Today’s suit was blue, shades darker than his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d guess he’d saved up all his irritation to unload it on me in a single glare.

“You must be here to return your employee ID.”

I ignored his outstretched hand. “I interviewed for a job this morning. How did you get hold of them?”

“Presumably they called HR. HR put them through to me.”

I crossed to his desk, shifting over it. “Do you seriously think I’m bad at my job?”

His gaze hardened. “They asked if you were an exemplary employee. I said you were disloyal and difficult.”

“I left sticky notes on your client files. Saved social media profiles, favorite restaurants, anniversaries. I know their kids’ names, their kids’ dogs’ names, and their kids’ dogs’ fleas’ names. And difficult? Let’s talk about difficult. You don’t follow any rules except your own. Any schedule except the one in your head. And you don’t listen to anyone.”

“Compromise is for the weak.”

“Compromise is for human beings.”

Before he could answer, we were interrupted by a redhead storming in the door.

“Mr. Banks?” Mallory something-or-other. In communications. I shifted back to let her into Avery’s line of fire. “A member of the gala team just quit.”

Avery met Mallory’s sharp gaze. “And you’re here because?”

“Redpath’s office said that as the lead on the corporate banking image project, you’re also the new go-to on the annual gala. HR told me to talk to you about getting more help.”

The fundraiser showed off the bank in front of clients, prospective clients, and as many old, rich men as we could find. I’d never been but knew it was a big deal.

This year probably mattered more than most.

I knew the look Avery sent her. It was the you can fuck right off look, but he couldn’t say that. Not when this was his responsibility.

“What kind of help do you need?” Avery said finally.

“Logistics. Working with the band, the venue. Checking client lists…we’re behind on ticket sales with all this bad press from Hollister. We’re undersold by fifty percent with barely two weeks to go. It’s a disaster. Redpath’s going to murder us.”

I tried to look contrite. “That’s unfortunate. Best of luck to you both.”

Two heads swiveled toward me. It was like they’d forgotten I was there.

His gaze narrowed. “Mallory? Give me five minutes.”

I didn’t like the sound of Avery’s voice, even before Mallory left. He rose from his chair and started his laps along the windows of his office.

He stopped his pacing to rub a hand over the back of his neck.

“I have a call in to the head of HR, but apparently I won’t have a new assistant for a few weeks.”

My incredulous laugh earned me a glare.

“They’ll probably send some moron who can’t tie her own shoes,” he went on.

“I thought that was me.”

“I said you were disloyal and difficult. I never said you were stupid.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush.”

Avery leaned back against his desk, his gaze narrowing. “You really want to pour cheap beer for leering frat boys at some college bar?”

“Let’s see…spending my shifts running at the whim of men who have zero respect for me and what I do—or bartending. I’ll take bartending.”

His face went slack in surprise. “That’s what you think it’s like to work here.”

I met his gaze head-on. He studied me, and I wished to hell I knew what was going on behind the purse of his mouth. The drawn eyebrows. The gaze that suddenly looked less angry than uncertain.

Fuck it. Not my problem anymore.

Avery reached for the notepad on the corner of his desk before I could turn away. He scratched something on the top sheet of paper and held it out. I read his strong, forceful handwriting.

Charlotte has been an important member of Alliance’s administrative team. I have been satisfied with her services during her tenure.

My heart kicked in my chest. “What is this?”

“Your reference. And it’ll be coming from a director once I land that promotion.”

“Wait. They’re promoting you to director?”

“It’s not official. But Jamie’s on leave,” he said, referencing his and Payton’s boss. “He’s given notice that he’s retiring early. And they’re looking for his replacement. If I can impress Redpath, the job is mine. My performance review’s happening days after the gala.”

“Why would he pick you?”

“I have a new idea that will change how we bank. Put data at our fingertips that will make us more efficient.”

“Wasn’t that Hollister’s problem? It was too accessible.”

Avery frowned. “That’s above your paygrade. What matters is that with my reference you can work anywhere in the city. If you do something for me. I need this gala to succeed. And I need time to land this promotion. I can’t do that if I’m buried in paperwork.”

I counted in my head. “So you want me to keep doing my job for another month.”

“Not the way you’ve been doing it. For the next month, you will be a model assistant. The only words I want to hear from your lips are ‘yes’ and ‘how fast?’ And if I so much as smell the whiff of another prank…”

“I’m fired. I get it.”

“No. It’ll be way worse than that.” The intensity of his expression made me shiver. “Do we have a deal?”

The list of things I’d rather do than be at this man’s mercy was a million miles long. Now that he knew what I’d done to him, he’d make my life hell.

Still, based on the initial job-scoping I’d done the night before, I knew it’d be hard to get a new job without a solid reference. Plus the gap would be hell on my finances.

It was only a few weeks. I could keep my head down. Avoid him, probably. He’d be so busy with real work I might never see him.

Looking into his cool eyes, I knew that particular wish wasn’t likely to come true.

“Fine.”

Avery reached for the phone on his desk, a grim smile on his face as he hit a button.

“Mallory, I have someone for your project team. Yes. She’ll do anything.”