Working Stiff:Casimir (Runaway Billionaires #1)(45)

He jerked backward like she had punched him.

She said, "Now pick up those notes, and let's get to that DiCaprio meeting."

She flounced out of the office.

That's right. She damn well flounced.





AMSBERG V. ARBEITMAN





Outside the door of the conference room where the DiCaprio people were  waiting, Rox paused just in case Cash needed a pep talk or to process  what she had said and damn well meant, but he smiled at her while he  held the door for her, just like normal. They walked in together,  wearing their bitch faces.

Inside, senior partner Valerie Arbeitman was already sitting at the conference table, a tablet and notepad in front of her.

Valerie asked, "What are you two doing here?"

Rox stopped, and Cash stiffened beside her. "We're here for the contract discussion. What are you doing here?"

"When you weren't back from your car accident, I took my clients back."

"This case was shuffled to us when you had your stroke."

"You didn't call in to say that you were coming back today, anyway."

"Rox notified people, and I haven't missed a meeting."

Rox nodded, confirming that she had notified them. Rox never missed  confirming meetings. Missed meetings were horrendously expensive.

Cash said, "I've teleconferenced or moved them, but I've never left  people waiting. We've prepared for this meeting for weeks. We're ready."

"I'm ready," Val said.

"Are you?" Cash's voice dropped. "Are you ready to explain what all of the clauses mean, even Section Twelve point Six?"

Rox stared at the computer in her arms. That section dealt with  DiCaprio's compensation, and the studio had slipped in that he would get  a percentage of the net profits from the film, where they had already  negotiated for the gross profits. With all the deductions and  depreciations that studios can claim, movies never, ever make net  profits. They were trying to screw him out of millions with that one  word.

"Of course," Valerie said, her magenta lips pursing.

Cash turned to the legal team sitting on the other side of the table. "Is it on the agenda?"

The lawyer in the middle picked up a piece of paper. Not a brown hair on  her sleek, short hair waved as she bent and examined the paper. "No.  It's not."

"The studio changed his compensation to net profits," Cash said.

The other lawyers gasped and bobbled in their chairs. Rox tried not to smile at their reaction.

"You still want her to advise you?" Cash asked them.

They fidgeted. Rox stepped back and grabbed the door's handle.

"We could hold the meeting with both of you," the lawyer in the middle said.

Valerie stood and swept her tablet and paper into her hands. "You take this meeting. I'll see you later."

Rox opened the door for her. Valerie's hands were full, and it seemed like a slight courtesy to allow her to save some face.

Cash leaned toward Valerie as she passed him. "We've read all your  contracts. There are a lot of clauses you have missed that we need to  discuss."

Valerie stalked out, silent rage pouring out of her.

He smiled at the lawyers on the other side of the table. "Ladies, may I  present my associate, Roxanne Neil. We may now proceed with the  meeting."

Cash pulled out a chair for Rox, as usual. She sat and handed out the agenda.

"Net profits?" the lead lawyer asked Rox.

"Oh, yes," Rox told her, "and there's a lot more than that to discuss."





THREE YEARS





Rox stood in her office, leaning on her desk and breathing after finishing the DiCaprio meeting.

The three ashen-faced lawyers had left the conference room quickly after  the meeting wrapped up and didn't even glance at Valerie's closed  office door as they hurried through the office.                       
       
           



       

Rox had fled, too. After her temper tantrum with Cash before the meeting, she hadn't wanted to deal with him.

They had never had a fight with each other in the three years that they  had been working together. Sure, they mutually and cooperatively shouted  about contracts. That was part of the scene and the game.

But actually fight with each other? They hadn't had to. Nothing mattered enough. They were just colleagues and buddies.

He had never been able to hurt her before.

Rox wished her cats were hiding under her desk. Cuddling something furry would be calming right now.

A knock rattled her door. Cash peeked through the window that cut the  wall beside the door. His chin was lowered, and his green eyes serious.

Rox nodded to him.

He opened the door and leaned into her office. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah. Come on in."

He stepped through her door and closed it behind himself. "You were right. You belonged in that meeting."

She nodded. "This is weird. I don't like fighting with you."

"I don't like it either."

"So let's stop. Let's just, don't."

He nodded and walked around her desk. "You were right about another  thing, too. You are my paralegal first. I need you to work with me.  Whatever happens, I don't want you to resign your position."

"I don't want to quit. I love my job. Are we going to be able to travel together after this?"

"We've been friends for three years. Surely, we can figure it out." He  looked down, staring at his shoes. "Is this just a superficial affair  for you?"

"It never is, with me. And it sure isn't now, especially because it's  you. That's why I made up the whole Grant thing. I've always known that  I'm the one who's going to end up with a broken heart."

"But what if you don't?" he asked.

"Right. Maybe I won't." Her flat voice sounded sarcastic, which she hadn't meant. She couldn't even look up from her hands.

Soft footsteps padded on the carpet. He stood beside her, and he lifted  her hand off the desk and held it in his warm, strong fingers. She let  him hold onto her hand, but she still couldn't look at him. Foreboding  ran through her, darkening every outcome she could think of.

Cash lifted her hand. His soft lips just brushed her fingertips. He said, "Maybe I'll be the one with a broken heart."

Her gulping laugh sounded more like a sob, and she covered her mouth with her other hand.

He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her to him. "No matter what  happens, we will be friends afterward. You can't go through all the  things that we have together and not remain friends. You've helped me  escape from the Russian prostitute delivered to my room, and I've  cock-blocked Italians with eight hands who were accosting you. We'll  always have that, and we had that first. I owe you greatly for getting  us out of that traffic situation in Argentina."

"I just unbuttoned my blouse a little and flirted with the soldier," she demurred.

"I would probably still be in prison down there."

"Yeah, and I've heard that their prisons suck. They don't even have WiFi."

"Indeed. And that time in Egypt, when you wore hijab and sneaked in to  talk to opposing counsel's mother and told her that she could meet  Harrison Ford if the deal went through? We would have never finished  that negotiation without her demanding that her son arrange for her to  meet Harrison."

"Yeah, that was fun. She was so excited when she was on the set that day."

"And that other time when we were in New Jersey and took a wrong turn in Camden."

"You wanted to pull over and ask somebody for directions because we  couldn't get a cell phone signal to use the GPS. Those guys were drug  dealers. You're so naive."

He stroked her hair. "I think I owe my life to you on more than one occasion. That time in Hong Kong?"

"I had to undo three buttons to get you away from those guys. Maybe Arthur was right and you do need security."

He chuckled, and his deep laugh reverberated through his chest under her  cheek. "We will always be friends, and I need you as my paralegal. Are  we clear?"

"Yeah," she said, and she felt a little stupid. "You probably would actually die without me to bail you out of trouble."

He stroked her hair and down her back to her waist, and his arms tightened around her. "I think I would."





AMSBERG V. ARBEITMAN, ROUND TWO





Casimir leaned against the closed door to his office, his arms crossed  tightly over his chest. The afternoon sun was dipping toward the western  horizon near the corner of the windows, and the glass darkened to  compensate for the glare.                       
       
           



       

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

When Rox finally left Grant-or whatever the hell had happened when Grant  had ceased to exist-Casimir was supposed to swoop in and make Rox smile  again. He was supposed to show her the wonderful life that she could  have with a man who valued her. They were supposed to travel and have  adventures and laugh together.