Heather must be dabbling in the office dating pool. I can understand. She’s young and pretty, if not for the sourpuss face.
“Speaking of happily married…” Malory continues. “This new project is a quick turnaround, which means late nights.” Her tone turns curious, “Do you think Gabriel is going to give you a hard time?”
I lean my head against the back of the chair and stare up at the ceiling. “I think he only wanted me to stay home instead of returning to work so he felt less guilty about all the hours he spends away from home.” As soon as the words pour out of my mouth, I instantly regret them. The last thing Malory wants to hear is my tales of a suburban housewife. She must think I’m pathetic. Mental note: keep your mouth shut.
“Do you still have sex?”
My body swings forward and my feet land on the floor. “That’s a little intimate.”
“Well…?” She raises a brow, enticing me to indulge.
Just like old times, I take the bait, even though it makes me entirely uncomfortable. “Yes and no. We do, but it’s not the same. I can’t explain it.”
“What did you expect? You’re married and have a kid already. You’re the oldest twenty-eight-year-old I know. That’s why we get along so well.”
I agree. Malory, on the other hand, is the youngest thirty-three-year-old I know.
Malory takes my cell phone off my desk and looks at my home screen. It’s a picture of Gabriel and Jackson looking into the camera with their matching navy blues and wavy dark hair.
“One thing’s for sure. You’re married to one hot guy. Seriously, the man just gets better looking with age. I’d be hitting that every night.”
Malory always makes comments like that about Gabriel. I forgot how much it irritated me.
“So who is this Asher guy I have to meet with?” I say, changing the topic abruptly.
She lets out an exasperated breath. “Don’t let Erik hear you say that.”
I close my eyes in embarrassment and sit up from my desk. When I open them, I see Malory still seated before me with her legs crossed and a wicked grin across her face.
“Alexander Asher is, number one, your boss,” she says condescendingly.
“I knew that.” The girl has to give me some credit.
“He is Edward Asher’s grandson and is gearing up to take over the family dynasty.”
I roll my eyes at the thought of having to meet with a spoiled brat who’s taking over his Granddaddy’s business. I can’t stand entitled people. New York is filled with enough socialites and wannabes already. I don’t need to work with one.
Malory points her finger at me as I turn on my new computer and wait for it to load. “Don’t roll your eyes. Alexander Asher is on track to become one of the most successful men in the country. And he’s smart. He bought Erik’s company and knew enough to keep Erik as an asset. He is also becoming quite the philanthropist.”
I’ll give him credit for the charity. The rest I’m a bit wary of. “So I’m meeting with a ten-year-old who made a few bucks playing Monopoly with the family trust fund?”
Malory returns my eye roll. Apparently, I’m amusing.
“I still can’t believe they gave you your own office,” Gabriel says, exiting our master bathroom, wearing baby-blue pajama bottoms and a white undershirt. I take a moment to look him over. With his dark features and piercing eyes, he is one of those guys who gets better with age. A Clooney, if you will.
When Gabriel and I met, he was an athletic twenty-one-year-old with boyish charm and a matching exterior. He used to wear jeans, funny T-shirts, and baseball caps. His hair was longer and fell slightly into his eyes. He used to brush it off his forehead when it got in the way or he was frustrated.
Ten years later, he’s filled out quite well, thanks to running and pushups in the park. Gabriel doesn’t believe in spending money on a gym when Mother Nature has everything you need. The T-shirts and jeans come out sporadically, but his usual attire is a suit for work and pants and a polo shirt on the weekends. His hair is cut much shorter and it suits him.
He walks over to the bed and I have to remind myself what we were talking about.
Oh, my office. Yes, that beautiful, white space that’s all mine.
“It’s small, but it has an awesome view.” I shake my head, still in disbelief that I can see the Empire State Building.
“So what are you working on?” Gabriel pulls back the duvet and climbs into bed.
“A benefit concert at Lincoln Center.” I grab the remote and switch on the TV. There is never anything good on this late at night, but I turn it on anyway.
“Who is the concert for?” Gabriel asks, lifting his iPad from the nightstand.
“Some children’s charity. The company was assigned to put together this major televised concert event that will raise money for music programs.” I search through the channels, pausing on an old Cary Grant film.
“Like a telethon?” he asks, typing in the web address for CNN.
I snort. “Yeah, kinda… but a thousand times more posh and without Jerry Lewis. Do you understand how much money this could bring in for music programs?”
“And the revenue your company can draw…?” he asks with his eyes focused on the tablet.
“No, Gabriel, this is all for charity. We’re not making any money.”
“Who do you think pays your salary?” Gabriel puts the iPad on his lap and looks over at me. “I bet ten cents to every dollar goes to charity and your company pockets the rest. No one does anything for free,” he says matter-of-fact.
“Gabriel.” My voice is stern. He knows I don’t want to hear anything negative about my job.
“Kat…” He is patronizing me. “I’m a lawyer. Trust me. Your company is making bank on this.”
I know he’s right, but it bothers me he’s such a realist. Gabriel is a tax fraud defense attorney. And I’m not talking about people who forgot to pay their taxes last year and are being hit up by the IRS. Gabriel represents high-profile clients who hide more money from the United States Government than you and I will probably make in a lifetime… combined.
Gabriel continues. “What else did you expect working for a company run by Alexander Asher?”
How does he know who Alexander Asher is?
“You know who my new boss is?”
“Uh, yeah. Did you expect me not to?”
“Well, kind of.” I’m too embarrassed to say I don’t know who he is.
“The Asher family is synonymous with grandiosity, consumption, and gluttony. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m doing some tax litigation for them down the road.”
Just what I need, to be out of a job as soon as I found a new one. “Doesn’t matter. I have a meeting with the man on Friday, but other than that, he doesn’t bother with the company.” I turn my attention back to the TV. Why can’t all men be as debonair as Cary Grant?
“It sounds very exciting.” Gabriel rubs his hands over his eyes. “More so than what I have going on. I have miles of paperwork to go over. Tax fraud. Why would anyone commit it? I’ll never understand.” When his eyes are thoroughly rubbed, he lifts the iPad off his lap and goes back to reading.
The frustration in his voice, mixed with despair, causes me to look over at him. The poor guy works too hard. “You don’t sound too sure about this one.”
“This guy is paying a lot of money to stay out of prison. I’ll get a good deal, but it’s going to take a lot of work.” Gabriel looks up at me with his cobalt eyes. “Kat, you have to see what this guy wrote off. He owes the government three million dollars in back taxes.”
I nearly choke on my words. “Three million!”
“This case is going to be the death of me. And he recently bought into some lucrative businesses, so if he goes down, a lot of people will lose their jobs.” Gabriel runs his fingers through his dark hair. “I’ll be working some late hours in the weeks ahead. I hope Jack won’t suffer because if it.” He looks concerned, his eyes tired.