His Temporary Assistant

Nope.

Now I just wondered how much shit I had to shovel to make him break. I really wanted to see him break.

Preston’s door crashed open, bouncing off the hinges. “What is going on out here?”

I took a leisurely step back and readjusted my purse on my shoulder. “I was just quitting.”

“What? Why?” Preston crossed the room. “You can’t. I need you this week.”

“You’ll make do.” His father smoothed a hand down his tie, as if I was some lint to be brushed away.

Preston raked his fingers through his hair. “I will not. We had an agreement.”

“Things change. I don’t like the atmosphere.”

That was an understatement.

Preston turned to his father. “Having this sort of conversation in the foyer is a bad idea. What if I had a client in my office?” He glanced from me to his father and back again. “And you are late, Miss Moon.”

“Even later now that Pops decided to give me a dressing down.”

Crimson was heading toward five-alarm-fire red. Now the flush was overtaking his cheeks too. “I—Preston, you need to take care of this immediately. This…this woman is not fit for this law firm.”

“Ah, but it’s okay for you to be the oldest cliché in the book? That’s fine. Again, I don’t need to be here. I was doing Preston and April a favor.”

“She’s the one in the wrong here. I will not stand for this.” Isaac turned on his heel and started across the room.

“Dad? Please stop. We need to discuss this. You can’t talk to my employee like that.”

“Me? She’s the one who verbally accosted me. Twice!”

“I feel like I verbally accosted him more than that.” I crossed my arms. “He will not belittle my accomplishments.”

PMS adjusted his tie, then smoothed it down much as his father had before dipping his hand into his pocket. “First of all, Miss Moon is not your employee to fire. You have your own admin to take care of your,” hello, pregnant pause, “personal business. You both need to calm down and think rationally.”

“Calm down?” My purse slid down my arm to thud onto the floor beside me. “I didn’t start it. I realize I’m late, and I apologize.”

Huh, who knew I had an apology in me right then? The things you learn.

“I was working—yes, working,” I added with a sneer when Isaac gave me a withering glance. “I have a business of my own.”

“And what is it that you do?” Isaac crossed his arms.

My smile was slow and wide. “I’m a professional tarot card reader and artist.”

Isaac’s gaze slid down my dress and crystals then drifted over my handmade bag. “I see.” Disdain dripped from his voice.

I tipped my head, my dark hair tumbling forward as I picked up the chunky amethyst that was hiding inside my dress and pulled it out. “Oh, and I’m a witch.”

Sort of. More of a kitchen witch, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Dear God. This is who you hire?” Issac glared at his son. “Are you insane?”

To Preston’s credit, he didn’t break his father’s stare. “Dad, you cannot judge anyone for their religion or their profession. You should know better. That is not what this law firm is about.”

My eyebrows rose. Did Preston just defend me?

Whatever. Too little, too late. Working here was obviously a mistake.