Looking through her file, I am impressed with the determination that propelled her from the mailroom. A marriage certificate is the last thing in the file, Natalie is exceptionally thorough with this one. Felix Maine, she kept her last name. Interesting. Until I see a picture of her badge clipped to the file. She is young. Her eyes defiant, her chin is up, yet there’s a vulnerability to her she can’t hide. She has a heart-shaped face, a small chin with rounded cheeks. Her large blue eyes are a surprise considering her mousy brown hair. Too bad, she was perfect until I saw her picture. "How old is she?"

"Thirty-one."

The vulnerability is real. I dismiss her. She’s too soft to endure my temper and demanding nature. Before the first week was over, I would have her in tears. I shake my head, putting her at the bottom. “Next."

Natalie is staring at me in surprise, “Sir—”

I shake my head. I do not explain my decisions. “Next.”

Her mouth thin, she nods. "Her name is Katherine White, a graduate of Duke. At fifty-seven with a long career as a secretary to a CFA, she knows her stuff. For seven years she ran the office on her own."

Her file is boring. "What do her references say?"

Natalie sighs, I look up. She looks tired, excellent. I want proof she is working her ass off on this. Today she is in full makeup. Usually, she doesn’t bother. Her hair is in the thin braids she gets every few months. I prefer her hair natural and would like to say so. However, one thing I have learned is to never have an opinion on a woman's hair. Her eyes do not meet mine. Fuck. "She can be seen as rough but—"

She goes to the bottom of the pile. "Next."

I open the file as Natalie starts talking. “Anna Temple, a graduate of Barnard—"

“Jesus, Natalie. Class of nineteen sixty-four? How is she not already dead?” I fling the file at her in annoyance. Then open the next one.

She thinks I miss her flipping me off, I see it. I choose to let it go. "Harry Blaine he's a recent grad of Wharton for his masters, undergraduate from Northwestern. He's been interning over at the commodities building. He has positive remarks from pretty much everyone."

Scanning the file, he has a weak showing in math. How the fuck can you go into the financial industry with a weak showing in math? Then I see it on his transcript. A notation so small if you blink you’ll miss it. It means his professor thinks one of his papers was plagiarized only could not verify it, so the student redid it with a reduced grade.

I flick the file off my desk. “This is bullshit, Natalie.” She flinches as I raise my voice, frustration rising within me. “None of these people are what I’m looking for.”