’Cause I could really use a friend in this city, and I was about to blow any chances of having one.

“Actually, I don’t think I can do that,” I answered softly, barely able to meet her gaze.

“What? Go out to lunch? Sure you can!” she replied with a touch of humor in her singsong voice.

“No—I mean, yes, I can gladly meet you for lunch. I’d be grateful for your friendship. But, the gossip part, I’m afraid I’m just not that type of person.”

Her smile fell slightly. “You remember the part about him being a jerk, right?”

I nodded, still trying to match her confidence, but it was damn hard with her hovering over my desk.

“Yes, I do. And I appreciate the warning. But I work for this man even if it’s just temporarily. Whatever goes on in this office is confidential. I can’t break that trust. It’s not how I was raised.”

She shifted, straightening to her full height. “Well, if that’s what you believe, I offer you my sincerest wishes for finding someone, anyone, in this city who holds that same belief. Soon, you’ll discover, this is a much different world you’re living in, Cara Hamilton, and when you do, you’ll wish you had a friend like me.”

And, with that pleasant closing remark, she disappeared through the door she had come through, her slender hips swaying back and forth with haste, as I tried to calm my ragged nerves.

Looking at the door, still firmly shut, I wondered, What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Chapter Seven

Not how I was raised?

Who the hell was this naive woman? And why the hell was I pressed against my door, listening to the petty conversations of my assistant, rather than working?

Because she was distracting—that was why.

I’d never paid much attention to my assistants before now. Bethany had been working for me for a couple of years, and before that, I honestly couldn’t remember.

Jude had always been friendly and personal with his assistants, and my father had been courteous enough to give bonuses and extra days off to his assistants.

But, then again, that was them.

And this was me.

If I couldn’t get physical with a woman and we weren’t making a business deal, what was the point in talking? This would be considered a sexist comment if I didn’t also hold the same policy for men—minus the getting physical part.

I just wasn’t much of a social person.

Growing up, I’d always been more introverted than anything. I’d sit on the sidelines of my own birthday parties, watching everyone have a better time than me, wondering how long until I could leave.