Harry P.O.V
The hard stomps of my boss' heels echo off the walls of the law firm, she makes herself known in the most nerve-racking way. It reminds me of that immediate panic I'd get when hearing keys or heels coming down the hall at school. You knew, when you weren't supposed to be doing something but you still somehow ended up there. That's the exact way everyone feels who works with Ms. Peach when those elevator doors ding.
My coworkers all scramble to make themselves presentable, collecting the stacks of evidence we dug up for the trail. These last few days have been tortious. She's been over-working us, sporadically allowing breaks, expecting us to stay unethical hours at the office, and trying any tactic to get things moving quicker. She's been rather emotional over this case and has taken it out on everyone in the firm.
Law school had taken a big portion of my sanity years ago, and it feels like she picked up on that and is breathing down my back more than the rest of the team. she sees how desperate I am to be second chair and dangles it in my face to get at me. I'm the first one in the office and the last one to lock up. Everyone knows I deserve it. I work hard, I never complain and she's no fucking picnic. Her assistants quit every week, and she picks me to take the load off her back every time.
The majority of my coworkers won't even try to work with her. They would much rather be with anyone else in the firm. How I see it, if you want to be the best you have to learn from the best. Ms. Peach is just that, my best option.
Ana is one of a kind. She's what everyone wants. A way out. A second chance. An opportunity.
She's smart, callous, and determined. The first woman to rank in the top three for best lawyer in the Continental U.S.
An elite. In more ways than one.
At least I think.
With every click of her heels, my mind slips further into panic mode, trying to decipher in the way she walks if she's in one of her moods or not. The food I just scarfed down, threatens its way back up my esophagus. I swallow harshly leaning back in my chair, debating on if I should attempt to run through the tempered glass window and plummet to my eighty-seven-story death.
"I just finished up with Mrs. Stein," Ms. Peach barely walks into the room, wasting no time to start working. "We are missing something, I can't put my finger on it! I looked over every file trying to come up with something that isn't right but goddamn, this case is fucking me right now." Her raunchy statement goes under the radar. Everyone is so used to her, they barely flinch. "The maid, the doorman, his wife, the daughter, his estranged son, along with the death certificate of the estranged son's mother. Every single fucking witness statement!" Peach thrashes her briefcase out in front of her, struggling to get her arm out of the sleeve of her pea coat. She rambles on like she's the only one in the room. Her eyebrows crease and her anxious lip biting begins.
It's safe to say that although I am very much afraid of my boss, I am also extremely turned on whenever she yells. Since the start of my career at Bruiser Law & Co, she's had me pitched in my slacks. Even after years of seeing how wicked she is, it did nothing to hinder my attraction for her. Her temper is what fuels my interest. I'm constantly wondering if she's just as temperamental in bed as she is in the office. Whether her tongue is as witty when she's tied up and pinned to the bed. Fantasies flash in my mind every day since working with her, I'm not happy about it one bit. I want to hate her. She makes my life hell. The drop of her suitcase snaps me back to reality.
"We have the murder weapon, two prints. His wife's and the maid. How can I miss som-" she pauses and looks around the room, quickly becoming irritated. "Why haven't any of you figured this out yet!?"
