The Promotion (Contemporary Reverse Harem 3)

In fact, what a great idea. Keep the dudes happy in the company of a beautiful female, and meetings were always sure to go well.

But my sexy secretary didn’t offer me anything to drink. In fact, she pulled some big black eye glasses off the top of the hair piled on her head and opened the folder she’d had tucked under her arm. Out came a pen from behind her ear, and she took a long look at me.

“I’ve been a fan of your band’s since I was in middle school,” she said.

Shit. Way to make a guy feel ancient.

“That’s very nice of you to say.” Always be polite with the fans. Even if you are paying them.

She flipped through some papers.

“Mr. Darby—I mean, Brade—your case is pretty straightforward. We’ve handled a couple similar ones for other entertainers. The rulings have always been in favor of our clients, so you’re in good hands.”

“Um…excuse me, Marcy, I think you said?”

“Maizy. M-A-I-Z-Y.”

“Ah. Gotcha. Maizy. I believe I had a meeting scheduled with a lawyer-type person. I appreciate your keeping me company, but I don’t really have time to hang out with a secretary. Nothing personal, I hope you understand.”

Huh. Well, I guess she didn’t understand because she gave me the stink-eye of all stink-eyes. I bet if I hadn’t been a client, she would have told me to go fuck myself.

I wouldn’t have minded. I’d been told that before.

She placed her hand flat on the table on top of what I guessed was a folder of my problems and rolled her shoulders a bit. Kind of like she was getting ready for a fight.

Oh, shit. Guess I’d said the wrong thing.

“Look, Marcy—”

“I’m Maizy, sir. Maizy. I’m sorry about the misunderstanding, but I am your legal representative. I work under the supervision of Eva Crabtree, one of the firm’s senior partners. I will be handling your case at the preliminary stages.”

Oh. Shit.

She continued. “You and I will be working closely together, but if you’re not comfortable with the arrangement and would prefer another paralegal, that can be arranged.”

“Oh. Okay, cool, Maizy.” I was sure to say it slowly and carefully. “Let’s do it.”

“You sure?” she asked.

I sat back in my seat and sized her up. I felt bad about insulting her.

“I am very sorry,” I said.

“It’s okay.” The ramrod stiffness holding her up relaxed a bit, and the air in the room flowed again. “Now, shall we get started?”

We went back and forth for about twenty minutes. She asked me a million questions about the complaint I had against the record label, and then we poured over the massive stack of different contracts I had with them.

Shit, why wasn’t my manager handling this for me?

Because he was the one who got me into this situation to begin with. I could strangle the jerk. As it was, I’d avoided his calls and texts for two weeks. That’s how pissed I was with him. I’d talk to him again, eventually, but not until I was damn good and ready.

And I kind of liked knowing he was probably sweating his job. That would teach him to sell me out.

To be honest, legal talk bored me to tears. I mean, didn’t it bore everyone? Except lawyers? And paralegals, I supposed. While Maizy jabbered on concerning some shit I could have cared less about—just get me the results I wanted—I had the chance to admire her.

She was fucking beautiful with her perfect skin and high cheekbones. I loved that she had this mass of sexy blonde hair, but that she had those heavy, dark nerd glasses that were so in vogue.

If anyone had told me a few years ago that hot blondes would someday be wearing those specs, I never would have believed it.