A judgment of guilt against a criminal defendant.
Andrew
“Mr. Hamilton?” Aubrey set my coffee down on my desk two weeks later. I’d personally insisted that she work as my intern, even though looking at her made me angry.
I’d made a point not to say too much around her, to refrain from staring at her too long, and I couldn’t help being crueler than ever—dismissive even. I made her responsible for my daily coffee, demanded that she re-do every assignment at least three times, and whenever she asked for my help, I answered her with a detached “Figure it out yourself.”
She never seemed upset or offended by my harshness, which made me even angrier. I’d thought that by having her work for me and seeing her crack under pressure that my attraction to her would fade, but it only intensified each time I saw her face.
Especially today.
As I pulled my coffee closer, I noticed that her ni**les were poking through her thin, beige dress, and it was so tight that I could see the imprint of lace panties.
Fuck...
“Mr. Hamilton?” she asked again.
“Yes, Miss Everhart?”
“I have an important rehearsal for a ballet I’m a part of, so I was wondering...” She looked absolutely nervous. “Can I go home early today?”
“No.”
She sighed. “I really need to be at this rehearsal...It’s at the Grand Hall.”
“So?”
“So,” she said, clearing her throat, “with all due respect, Mr. Hamilton, this is a pretty big deal for me. The Grand Hall is usually reserved for performances, so for them to open it and let us use it for a rehearsal is—”
I wasn’t listening, and as much as I wanted to look at my work again and make it clear that she was being ignored, I couldn’t. I was too busy staring at the contours of her mouth.
“That’s a fact.” She was still talking for some reason. “I think I’ve made very valid points, and since I’m not asking for too much, you should agree to let me go.”
“Get back to work, Miss Everhart.”
“Mr. Hamilton, please—”
“Get. Back. To. Work.” I glared at her, daring her to let another word slip out of her seductive mouth. “I don’t care about your personal life. I pay you for twenty five hours a week, so you’ll work twenty five hours a week, and you’ll work them when I say you’ll work them. So, get back to your cubicle.”
She stared at me for a few seconds, and I couldn’t help but notice tears welling in her eyes.
“You can take that box of Kleenex with you on your way out,” I said.
Shaking her head, she stepped back and headed for the door. “I’m going to ask Mr. Bach if I can leave early. No disrespect to you.”
“Excuse me?” I stood up. “What did you just say?”
She continued to walk toward the door, the sound of her heels clicking faster and faster. Before she could turn the knob, I spun her around and slammed my hand against the door.
“I’m not a fan of insubordination, Miss Everhart.”
“You won’t have to worry about that anymore.” Her face was red, twisted in anger. ““I’m going to ask Mr. Bach to move me with someone else because I refuse to work with you anymore.”
“Good luck with that. No one else wanted you. Only me.”
“I highly doubt that.” She tried to move away, but I grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head.
“I was the best interviewee and you f**king know it.” She hissed. “And since we both know that’s a fact, I don’t have to put up with your shit anymore.” She looked as if she wanted to spit in my face. “You are a cruel, cold, and condescending ass**le, and I haven’t learned shit from you; I doubt I ever will.”