Scott Stone paced his office like a caged tiger, his ruined shirt discarded in the trash bin. He was now wearing a spare black silk shirt from his private dressing room, but the sting of Edna Rivers' words still felt like a physical burn on his skin.
"Being a jerk is permanent."
The audacity. The sheer, unmitigated gall of a girl who earned in a year what he spent on a watch.
"Is it done?" Scott barked as his legal counsel, Arthur, stepped into the office. "Is she gone? I want her security badge deactivated and her final check mailed. I don't want to see her face on this block ever again."
Arthur, a man who had served the Stone family for thirty years, didn't look up from his tablet. He cleared his throat, a sound that usually preceded bad news. "There's a slight complication, Scott."
Scott stopped pacing. He leaned over his mahogany desk, his knuckles turning white. "I don't pay you for complications, Arthur. I pay you for erasers. Erase her."
"I can't," Arthur said simply. "Do you remember the 'Legacy Diversity Initiative' your father signed into the corporate bylaws five years ago? The one meant to protect the company from wrongful termination lawsuits during the restructuring?"
Scott felt a cold pit form in his stomach. "Vaguely. What does that have to do with a girl who can't hold a coffee tray?"
"Edna Rivers wasn't hired as a standard temp, Scott. She's the top candidate from the 'Founders Scholarship' program. According to the contract you signed last quarter, scholarship hires have a mandatory ninety-day 'protected status' period. Unless she commits a felony on camera, you cannot fire her without triggering a massive external audit of your labor practices. Especially not for... spilling a beverage."
Scott slammed his fist onto the desk. The heavy glass rattled. "You're telling me I'm stuck with her? For three months?"
"Eighty-two days, to be exact," Arthur corrected. "And if you harass her into quitting, she can sue for constructive discharge. With the merger pending, the last thing we need is a headline about 'Billionaire Bully Fires Scholarship Student Over Latte.'"
Scott turned to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the city he thought he conquered. He could see Edna standing on the sidewalk sixty floors below, her small figure looking defiant even from this height. She was hailing a cab, likely thinking she was defeated.
A slow, dark smile spread across Scott's face. It wasn't a kind smile.
"Fine," Scott whispered. "If I can't fire her, I'll make her wish I had. If she's a 'protected' scholar, let's see how much scholarship she can handle."
He buzzed his desk intercom. "Send Edna Rivers back up to the 60th floor. And cancel my lunch. Miss Rivers has a lot of filing to do."
Ten Minutes Later
The elevator doors opened, and Edna stepped out. She looked pale, her eyes slightly red, but her chin was held high. She expected security to escort her out. Instead, she found Scott Stone waiting for her in the hallway, his arms crossed over his chest.
The black shirt made him look even more dangerous—less like a CEO and more like a villain from a dark romance.
"I thought I was fired," Edna said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.
"You were," Scott said, stepping closer until he was deep in her personal space. He smelled like expensive sandalwood and cold fury. "But it turns out the law is on your side for the next eighty-two days. You're a 'protected' asset, Edna."
Edna blinked, confused. "So... I still have my job?"
"Oh, you have much more than a job," Scott hissed, leaning down so his lips were inches from her ear. "You have my undivided attention. Since you're so worried about me being a 'jerk,' I've decided to live up to the reputation. You aren't a coffee girl anymore. You're my new personal research assistant. You will be in this office before I arrive, and you will leave after I do. You will handle every tedious, grueling, soul-crushing task I can find."
He pulled back, his eyes searching hers for a sign of breaking. "Do you want to quit now, Edna? Save us both the trouble?"
Edna felt the challenge like a spark to dry wood. He wanted her to run. He wanted her to cry and crawl away so he could win.
She took a step toward him, closing the small gap he'd left between them. "Eighty-two days, Mr. Stone?"
"Eighty-two," he growled.
"Fine," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper that mimicked his. "I hope you're ready, Scott. Because I don't break easy. And I've dealt with much scarier things than a man in an expensive shirt."
For a second, the air between them didn't feel like hate. It felt like electricity—hot, sudden, and terrifying. Scott's eyes dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before he caught himself.
"Get to work," he snapped, turning his back on her. "There's a mountain of data on my desk. Start with the 2018 audits. And Edna?"
She paused at the door. "Yes?"
"Don't bring me coffee. I don't think your nerves can handle it."
Edna smiled—a small, secret thing. "Actually, Scott? I think it's your nerves we should be worried about."