I gave her a blank stare. We went through this shit every other day. If she wasn’t blatantly flirting with me, she was attempting (and failing) to make me jealous by pretending to talk to numerous men on the phone.

“The call from Rush better be on my line when it’s time,” I said. “And you’re lucky that your work is beyond reproach, Cynthia. Otherwise, I’d be forced to—”

“Punish me?” She smiled. “Can you tell me how you would do it?”

Jesus Christ. I walked away and shut the door to my office. She was the youngest receptionist in my company, and she was also the best. If she had a business degree or any law experience, I might’ve given her a try at being my executive assistant.

Then again, with her flirting becoming more reckless and blatant by the day, keeping her at a distance was probably best for the long term.

I took a seat at my desk and realized that there was no Colombian coffee waiting for me. No written notes about the meetings I needed to attend. No emails about why. In other words, my assistant was bullshitting, again.

Sighing, I opened my email to ask when I could expect my coffee and notes to arrive, but an email from my chief attorney appeared onscreen.

Subject: Your Newest Assistant Is in My Office (Again)

Preston,

Please get here. Now.

George Tanner

Chief Attorney, Parker International

This email from George came like clockwork every other Friday, and the only thing that changed was which “new assistant” he was referring to. I’d gone through so many, that I called them all Taylor, since they never seemed to last long enough for me to learn their real names.

I walked to his office and spotted my latest Taylor sitting on the sofa. Dressed in a baggy blue suit that belonged in the nearest trash can, his eyes were red and puffy, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.

“Tell Mr. Parker what you just told me,” George said, handing him a Kleenex. “Go on.”

The latest Taylor looked up at me and let out a long breath. “Mr. Parker, I am overworked and overwhelmed with everything I’m required to do for you, sir. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and I feel like this job is consuming my life.”

“You just started working here two weeks ago.”

“Let him finish, Preston,” George warned, then muttered under his breath, “We don’t need any trouble with Human Resources, do we?”

“I’m just—” Taylor sniffled. “I’m just trying so damn hard to make you happy and it’s never enough. My phone rings constantly, my email inbox is never under five hundred messages, and I don’t think you know my real name.”

I didn’t make a move to act like I did.

He wiped his face on his sleeve. “My girlfriend has to come home and listen to me cry about this job every night.”

“You still have a girlfriend after crying every night?”