Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 52699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
I picked up my briefcase and shook his hand, feeling an instant jolt of electricity shooting through my veins.
He let out a low groan, confirming that he’d felt it, too.
“It was interesting to meet you, Miss Tanner,” he said, still holding my hand. “I wasn’t kidding about the payment plan. You can mail me your ideas and a respectable timeline.”
“Likewise, Mr…I didn’t catch your name, actually.”
“You won’t need it.” He let go of my hand and opened the door. “Goodbye, Miss Tanner.”
MOTIVE (N.)
THE PROBABLE REASON A PERSON COMMITTED A CRIME, SUCH AS JEALOUSY, GREED, REVENGE OR PART OF A THEFT
DAMIEN
Itossed Miss Tanner’s application into the trash.
Even if she weren’t a massive fraud, I wouldn’t dare hire her to work here; I’d only managed to ask four genuine questions during her interview because I was far too aroused and distracted by her presence.
Each time she sipped from her cup, and any time her cheeks flushed red from a lie, I’d envisioned pulling her up by her hair and screwing her against the windows.
I’m voting hell no.
Approaching the conference room, I adjusted my tie before opening the door.
“Good morning.” I extended my hand to a woman in a cream-colored suit. “I’m Damien Carter.”
“I know who you are.” She smiled. “I’m Winter Matthews. I requested you specifically.”
“How can I help you, Miss Matthews?”
“Someone plagiarized my work and is making millions from it, so I want to sue them into oblivion.”
Intrigued, I motioned for her to take a seat.
I took a pen from my jacket.
“I’ll need some proof, but tell me a bit more about your stolen work.”
“Gladly. Do you know what it’s like to see the words you’ve poured your blood, sweat, and tears into, under someone else’s name?” Her voice cracked. “It’s like a soul invasion.”
I handed her a Kleenex.
“While the thief is garnering attention, new followers, and awards, I’m—” She sniffled. “I’m languishing in the background.”
“Well, we have a dedicated team that handles copyright infringement,” I said. “I’ll make sure they take your case seriously.”
“Good, because this thieving ass bitch needs to go down.” Her eyes suddenly went wide, and her tone completely shifted.
“Here’s your proof.” She slid her phone to me. “I need to see her in an orange prison jumpsuit, and I want every dime she’s ever received from my words.”
“Wait a second.” I glanced at her screen. “Did you tap something by accident? This looks like someone’s personal X or Twitter account.”
“Haven’t you been listening?” She scoffed. “She stole my tweets! She copied and pasted them word for word, line for line, emoji for emoji.”
I set down the phone.
“I tweeted ‘On my grind, walking under the clouds of focus in my mind’ on October thirteenth and I got three likes. This imposter writes the same thing two weeks later and she got two and a half million likes.”
I blinked.
“If you scroll down to a week after that blatant act of plagiarism, I said, ‘Can’t relate to the fakeness. I’m way too real,’ and I got twenty-eight likes and five comments. She added a heart emoji to those exact words—my exact words—and she got her biggest tweet of all time? Of all time!”
I stood up from the table. “Make sure to stop by reception on your way out to get your parking validated.”
“I’m giving you the case of the century on a silver platter, Mr. Carter,” she said. “If people can plagiarize tweets, what’s next? Books?”
“You honestly believe no one has ever plagiarized a book before?”
“I’m thinking of all the authors you’ll save if you take on my case.” The crazed look in her eyes was scaring the hell out of me. “We need to sue this lady so deep into hell that people will google the word ‘the’ before using it.”
I stepped out of the room as she continued to rage, debating whether to call my contact at the psych department.
Luckily for her, Jessica messaged me about returning to the interview room.
When I stepped inside, Andrew was staring straight ahead and looking as dejected as I felt.
“Was your first interview that bad?” I sat next to him.
“‘Bad’ would’ve been acceptable,” he said. “I believe we’re going about this process all wrong. Maybe we should fire everyone in Human Resources and make the new team put up with this.”
“You’d have to fire Jessica to make that possible.”
He looked like he was considering the idea, but I knew that would never happen.
Batshit crazy or not, she was as much a part of this firm as we were.
Before I could tell him about my disaster of an “emergency client,” the next applicant—a grey-suited guy from Yale—walked into the room.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hardman,” I said. “Welcome to the firm. I’m Damien Carter and this is Andrew Hamilton.”
“We’re so thrilled to meet you.” Andrew didn’t try to sound convincing. “Why should we consider you to work at our firm?”