Page 4 of The Substitute
Her smile vanishes, leaving a blank, confused expression on her face.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Did I mention that she’s entitled? Add spoiled to that.
“I’d be happy to escort you home to make sure you get there safely since you’ve had a few drinks.”
“But you don’t want to fuck me once we get there?”
I glance around and notice that the people at several tables close to ours heard the remark.
Of course, she said it so loudly it wouldn’t surprise me if they’d heard her out on the street.
“No, I don’t.”
She scoffs and drains her martini glass. “Why?”
“MJ, let’s not make this uncomfortable—”
“Oh, no. Let’s.” Her smile turns snide and mean. “Why in the world wouldn’t you want a piece of this? I would rock your world and have you begging for more. Your dick doesn’t know what it’s missing.”
My dick is thanking me for taking mercy on it right now.
I lean in so the tables around us can’t hear, and with a low, hard voice, say, “Because I’m not interested in women who have so little self-respect they would ask their father to lure me to a restaurant under the guise of a business meeting, and then basically throw themselves at me as soon as we’re alone. It’s not sexy, it’s not flattering, and it makes you look desperate.”
Her mouth gapes, but I simply shake my head and lean back in my chair.
“Do you wish to have an escort home or not?”
“Fuck you,” she says and flags down the waitress. “I’ll have another one of these.”
“Charming. I’ll leave you to your dinner, then.”
“You son of a bitch,” she growls, glaring at me. “I’ll make sure my father fires you.”
“I’ve already drafted my resignation,” I reply. When she gasps in surprise, I stand and stride away from the table and out the door into the wet, rainy Seattle air. “Bloody hell.”
* * * *
I’ve been in my office since six this morning. It’s just before eight when I hear the outer door open. I stand from my desk, cross through the open door separating my office from the reception area and see a woman standing just inside.
She has dirty-blond hair swept back into a low ponytail at her nape. She’s wearing minimal makeup and clothes that are almost too casual for the office setting. They don’t fit her well or flatter her curvy frame in any way.
But when she sees me, she smiles brightly.
“Hi, I’m Maya Sterling,” she says, crossing to shake my hand. Her grip is firm and confident, and her eyes never leave mine as she introduces herself.
So far, so good.
“Derek Langley.”
“I figured,” she replies with a grin. “It’s interesting how this practice is set up, with everyone having their own separate offices. It makes it feel like you’re a private practice.”
I narrow my eyes, surprised. “Do you have a background in law?”
“My brother does,” she says with a shrug. “Anyway, I’m your sub.”
And just like that, this woman manages to do what the one from Friday night couldn’t in a million years. She’s the opposite of MJ. Almost…guileless.