The Contract (The Contract 1)

She was at the office every day without fail—never late. She rarely left the office unless it was to do an errand for me or scuttle to the break room to eat one of her ridiculous brought-from-home sandwiches since I forbade her to eat at her desk. She kept my calendar and contacts in precise order, my files done in the exact color-coding I liked, and screened my calls, making sure my many exes didn’t bother me. Through the grapevine, I knew everyone liked her, she never forgot anyone’s birthday, and made the most delicious cookies, which she shared on occasion. She was fucking perfection.

I couldn’t stand her.

She was everything I despised in a woman. Small and delicate, with dark hair and blue eyes, she dressed in simple suits and skirts—neat, tidy, and completely dowdy. Her hair was always twisted into a knot, she wore no jewelry, and from what I observed, no makeup. She had zero appeal and not enough self-respect to do anything about it. Meek and timid, she was easy to roll over. She never stuck up for herself, took whatever I dished out at her, and never responded negatively. I liked my women strong and vibrant—not a doormat like Miss Elliott.

However, I was stuck with her.

“Fine. Don’t make it a habit, Miss Elliott.”

For a second, I thought I saw her eyes flare, but she simply nodded. “I’ll pick up your jacket and leave it in your closet. Your two o’clock teleconference is set and you have a three-thirty in the boardroom.” She indicated the files on the corner of my desk. “Your notes are all there.”

“My expenses?”

“I’ll finish them and leave for your signature.”

“All right. You can go.”

She paused at the door. “Have a good evening, Mr. VanRyan.”

I didn’t bother to reply.RICHARD

BRIAN SIPPED HIS RYE, REGARDING me over the edge of the glass. “I agree that must burn, Richard. But what do you want me to do about it?”

“I want another job. That’s what you do. Find me one.”

He laughed dryly, setting down his glass. “We’ve had this discussion already. With your credentials, I can get you any job you want—except here. There’re two major players in Victoria, and you work for one of them. If you’re finally ready to move, give me the word. I’ll have offers for you in any major city you want to consider. Toronto is booming.”

I huffed in annoyance. “I don’t want to move. I like Victoria.”

“Is there something holding you here?”

I drummed my fingers on the table as I pondered his question. I had no idea why I refused to move. I liked the city. I liked its proximity to the water, the restaurants and theatres, the bustle of a big town in a small city and especially the climate. There was something else—something I couldn’t put my finger on that held me here. I knew I could relocate; in fact, it was undoubtedly the best thing to do, but that wasn’t what I wanted.

“No, nothing tangible. I want to stay here. Why can’t I get a job at The Gavin Group? They’d be fucking lucky to have me. My portfolio speaks for itself.”

Brian cleared his throat, tapping his glass with his manicured fingernail. “As does your personality.”

“Blunt and in charge works in the advertising industry, Brian.”

“That’s not exactly what I’m referring to, Richard.”

“What exactly are you fucking referring to then?”

Brian signaled for more drinks, and sat back, adjusting his tie before he spoke. “Your reputation and name speak for themselves. You know you’re known as ‘The Dick’ in many circles.” He lifted one shoulder. “For obvious reasons.”

I shrugged. I didn’t care what people called me.

“The Gavin Group is a family-run company. Unlike Anderson, they operate the company on two fundamental principles: family and integrity. They’re extremely particular when it comes to their client base.”

I snorted. Anderson Inc. would work for anyone. As long as there was money to make, they’d create a campaign—no matter how distasteful it was to some consumers. I knew this, and I didn’t care much one way or another. I knew The Gavin Group was far more discriminating in regards to clients, but I could work within those boundaries. David hated The Gavin Group—to leave Anderson Inc. and work there would piss him off so thoroughly he’d offer me a partnership to come back. He might even offer it on the spot when he discovered I was leaving. I had to make this happen.

“I can hold back and work within their parameters.”

“It’s not only that.”

I waited until the waiter withdrew after delivering our fresh drinks. I studied Brian briefly. His bald head gleamed under the lights, and his light blue eyes twinkled. He was relaxed and at ease with himself, not at all worried over my dilemma. He stretched his long legs, leisurely crossed them, swinging one as he picked up his glass.