Free Work for Hire by Margo Karasek

wear four-inch stilettos.
    “And I just want you to know that you can always come to me for help. I still live in the Lamont house, so you will see me quite often.”
    I sat back, rendered speechless by this tidbit.
    “In fact, Mr. Lamont wanted me to make sure you understood the children’s special needs before you started. You see, Gemma is like her mother. She’s not really academic. So just make sure she passes all her classes. But Xander … he’s different. He’s extremely bright, like Mr. Lamont. He needs to do well in school. Stephen insists. Unfortunately, Xander is also very lazy and might prove to be a challenge. You will have to figure out how to get him to do his work. Oh, and here’s Stephen,” she said, capping this last bit of information with a sharp nod.
    She got out of her chair, and I turned my head to see a slender, middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair. He wore a tweed suit and red bowtie, along with cognac Lattanzi shoes and purple socks. His clothes looked expensive, but his physique was otherwise unimpressive; he barely topped five feet seven inches, and sported a weak chin. Frankly, his entire body looked weak. With his tortoiseshell frames on, he resembled more a pampered British scholar than a Wall Street tycoon. I couldn’t envision him with the glamorous—and tall—Monique.
    “Ladies,” he said as he approached the club chairs, “is everything going well?”
    I got out of my seat. Unlike his stature, Mr. Lamont’s voice was powerful. I could easily imagine the strong baritone riveting an entire boardroom of listeners.
    “Very,” Lisa chirped, and she leaned her standing body in his direction, cleavage in full view. “We have covered everything you mentioned.”
    “Good.”
    Mr. Lamont walked away from Lisa, stepped around the desk and sat in the executive chair. Lisa and I remained standing.
    “Well, then,” he said, reclining the chair, hooking his hands on the back of his head, and eyeing me from underneath drooping eyelids. “I expect you to commit for at least one year—I haven’t the time or the inclination to look for a replacement mid-semester—and I expect results. Whatever it takes, Miss Reznar. I don’t tolerate failure. And now, if you’ll both excuse me?”
    He pulled a file off his desk and proceeded to read, as if the two of us had already exited.
    My jaw dropped. That’s it? I wanted to yell at him. That is my entire meeting with you? For this … two minutes … I’ve been dragged halfway across Manhattan? For this I potentially jeopardized my Constitutional Law grade?
    I turned on my heel and stomped out of the room. Lisa scurried after me. She closed the door and grabbed hold of my arm.
    “Tekla,” she said swiftly. “Congratulations! Mr. Lamont really liked you. So don’t do anything stupid,” she warned, gauging my reaction accurately. “He’s a really busy man.”
    She led me past the startled receptionist— yeah, look your fill, honey —towards the elevators, where she finally let go of me.
    “Well, here you go.” Lisa smiled. “Best of luck with everything.” She turned to walk back to the office but paused mid-stride, and turned back to again face me. “Oh, and Tekla, let me give you some friendly advice, just between the two of us.”
    I tipped my head to the side. What could chirpy Lisa possibly advise me about that she hadn’t already?
    “Watch out for Julian.”
    I held back a gasp.
    “He’s Monique’s special pet. Women seem to go crazy for him, though I don’t know why. Personally, I wouldn’t date him even if he asked.”
    He probably never did, and the oversight still stings, right, Lisa?
    “The man’s trouble, and you’re just his type. Physically, that is. So you might get more than you bargain for if you play with that guy.”
    “Thanks,” I scoffed before I got into the elevator. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
    Her warning fled my mind completely when I glanced at my watch. 4:45 p.m.
    I had