P.S. You're Intolerable (The Harder They Fall, #3)(2)

“You’re going to let a spill stop you from interviewing?”

“I’m not exactly presenting my best foot.” I crossed my arms over my chest, hoping to hide my bra. “I don’t think anyone would give me a job looking like I had a battle with a coffee monster and lost.”

His mouth, inordinately plush for a man with such razor-sharp features, silently formed the words, “Coffee monster.”

“What’s your name?”

I almost said Kit, but my nickname wasn’t very professional. “Catherine Warner.”

“Don’t you want the job, Catherine?” My name rolled off his tongue like honey. It had been so long since anyone had called me anything other than Kit. It was strange hearing my given name from this man.

“Of course. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

He nodded precisely. “Then you should find a way to make it happen. If you give up this easily, you wouldn’t be a good fit for this company.” He gave me a long look as if assessing me. I couldn’t tell if he found me wanting or not. Maybe he hadn’t decided. “If you find a way to make yourself presentable in the next ten minutes, you’ll still have the interview. I’ll let security know to allow you up to the executive floor.”

With Army-like precision, he turned with a click of his heels and strode off.

It took until he disappeared around the corner for me to really wrap my head around what had just happened.

I hadn’t known who I’d be interviewing to work for. Since there was no way I would have convinced myself to come here if I had, that was a good thing. Working directly for the CEO of Levy Development was so far above my paygrade.

But Elliot Levy was personally giving me a chance. The head of this company had challenged me to problem solve. I was here now. How could I not at least try?

I stood there for a solid minute, too stunned to take action.

Then I had nine minutes. Just nine minutes to possibly change the course of my life.



I walked into my house and slammed the door shut behind me hard enough for the bare walls to rattle and the fine layer of dust coating just about everything to take flight. My hand pressed against my racing heart, and I took a deep breath.

It was over. I’d survived.

Liam sauntered out of what was supposed to be a kitchen but was more of a storage room slash disaster zone. His grin faltered at the sight of me sliding down the door, and he hurried over, catching me before I could fall on my butt.

“Come here, Kit. You look all tuckered out.”

I let him lead me to the most uncomfortable couch known to man and gingerly lowered myself onto it. I’d been poked by a spring one too many times to be anything but careful when sitting on the death trap.

It was temporary.

All of this was.

I kept reminding myself that.

Liam took my hands, rubbing them between his. “How did it go?”

“Like cherry bombs in a middle school toilet. Sounds fun until someone loses an eye.” Liam gave me a look that said he didn’t get it, so I gave him more details. “It began with me spilling coffee all over the CEO’s shoes.”

He winced, hissing air between his clenched teeth. “Babe, we talked about coffee. You said you were going to cut it out.”

Liam’s Australian accent normally amused me, but his admonishment was grating. He’d wanted me to cut out coffee. My doctor had assured me a cup a day was safe and Google had confirmed it.

“I know, and believe me, I will now. I just needed—” I shook my head. There was no need to justify myself. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and the coffee was beside the point. “Well, he gave me ten minutes to get it together and make myself presentable. I made it to his office in nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds.”

“His office?” Liam’s blond brows popped.

“Yes. The position is Elliot Levy’s executive assistant.”

His mouth stretched into a wide grin. “Shit, babe. That’s golden. How did the interview go?”

I swallowed hard. “After the scene in the lobby, it went shockingly well.”

Elliot Levy had been nearly impossible to read. Only the slight raise of his brow and a barely perceptible twitch of his mouth had told me he’d been at least a little impressed by the outfit I’d put together with the help of the security guards and the lost and found box.

Liam clapped his hands together. “All right. The compensation package has to be huge for that position.”

I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Of course that was his first thought. Money was all Liam talked about these days. He had valid reasons for being distracted by it, sure—the house renovations being the biggest drain at the moment—but I was tired of the topic.

I was just plain tired.

At nine weeks pregnant, it was to be expected, but sometimes, exhaustion hit me like a sledgehammer out of the blue, and with it came extreme grumpiness.

I had to be careful not to take it out on Liam. It wasn’t his fault the one time we slept together resulted in the little life growing inside me.

Okay, it was half his fault.

To say this baby had been unexpected would have been the understatement of the century. I was only twenty-five, far from settled, and Liam and I were friends and travel buddies—nothing more. Not exactly the stable environment a child deserved.